Rubber City Review

Put New Orleans guitarist Fird “Snooks” Eaglin, Jr. near the top of that long list of the criminally ignored.

Where do you start with this guy? Most accounts begin with the obvious, that he lost his sight before he turned two – the unintended result of an operation for glaucoma and a brain tumor. But that just started him down the same path as Ray Charles, Art Tatum, Arsenio Rodriguez, Stevie Wonder and other brilliant musical innovators to whom blindness seemed like more of an unfair advantage than a handicap. Easy for me to say, right? But someone who plays like this surely has a divine gift that’s rarely offered to the optically endowed: Kiss of Fire

Snooks was a master of the New Orleans tradition, but could play virtually anything that anyone threw at him. He was referred to as “The Human Jukebox,” and reportedly had a repertoire of more than 2,500 songs. And one of the many pleasures of the Snooks “songbook” is hearing his quirky, highly individual take on a wide range of styles – country, blues, rock, jazz, funk… even the occasional surf tune: Profidia

The Flamingoes, with Allen Toussaint at the piano

I suppose you could argue that his musical career started when he won a talent contest in 1947 at the age of 11. Before long, he was gigging with Crescent City legend Allen Toussaint as part of the Flamingoes, which competed with Art Neville’s Hawketts for the crown of best local act in the early ‘50s. He also began recording with local standouts like Sugar Boy Crawford, and you can hear Snooks’ rough and ready guitar on this Mardi Gras classic: Jock-A-Mo/Sugar Boy Crawford

Then Snooks got caught up in the folk music craze of the early ‘60s when he was “discovered” by Dr. Harry Oster, a folklorist from Louisiana State University. Oster recorded Snooks on acoustic guitar playing mostly country blues, with little accompaniment. Sort of like asking Paul Prudhomme to make a grilled cheese sandwich (although I’m sure it would taste great). But these reverently rendered standards – which ended up on the Folkways and Prestige labels – still have their little pleasures. After all, it is Snooks, who also had a wonderfully expressive voice that earned him the title “Little Ray Charles”: Bottle Up and Go

Far more rewarding are the cuts that Snooks recorded with the New Orleans-based Imperial label from 1960 to 1963, mainly because they were produced by Rock Hall of Famer Dave Bartholomew and feature many of the city’s top players, including the amazing James Booker on piano. You can find these sizzling cuts (if you’re lucky) on a 26-track collection called “The Complete Imperial Recordings.” If Snooks had ended his career with these tracks, he’d still be considered one of the city’s greatest talents. Here’s a taste: Is It True

But his best stuff was still down the road, including his legendary sessions in the early ‘70s with Professor Longhair and the Wild Magnolias – musicians who practically define all that’s good and right about New Orleans music.

The Professor Longhair recordings are referred to as “the Lost Sessions,” but we can thank the Rounder label for resurrecting a fine sampling of the smoking-hot tunes that Snooks laid down with the piano master in ’71 and ’72. They were recorded in Baton Rouge, Memphis and Woodstock, NY (somehow, Jerry Wexler of Atlantic Records and Albert Grossman, manager of The Band, got involved at some point), and capture the two giants with a rotating cast of back-up musicians, including a couple of first-rate and flamboyantly named drummers: Joseph “Zigaboo” Modeliste of the Meters and Shiba (Edwin Kimbraugh). This is the real deal – raw, unvarnished, let-it-rip New Orleans soul. I love the way Snooks cranks up his amp as he tears into this solo… give me a slice of that: Cherry Pie/Professor Longhair

And you’d be hard-pressed to find better ambassadors of New Orleans culture than the Wild Magnolias. We’re talking honest-to-god Mardi Gras social club Indians, but with a decidedly modern and funky take on that rich tradition. Basically, their first album was just a cheap excuse to put together an all-star band made up of New Orleans’ finest (sensing a theme here?). The sessions were organized in ’73 by pianist Wilson Turbinton – better known as Willie Tee, responsible for the “Carolina shag” hit Teasin’ You. Throw into that spicy roux Willie’s brother Earl on horns, a mighty rhythm section, Snooks, and the gritty, soulful voice of Big Chief “Bo” Dollis… dat’s some serious gumbo, my friends: Smoke My Peace Pipe (Smoke It Right)/The Wild Magnolias

That very well could’ve been it for Snooks’ recording career… but thankfully, Black Top Records’ label heads Nauman and Hammond Scott stepped in about a dozen years later, brought Snooks back into the studio and introduced him to poor schlubs like, well, me. At the time, I was listening to just about any blues I could get my hands on as I tried to survive the music industry’s most wretched years (Duran Duran, Wang Chung, Crock of Beagles… don’t bring that MTV shit to my doorstep). Now I’ve heard all the criticisms about the Black Top sound – slick, over-produced, occasionally uninspired… all of which, for the most part, are true. But the Scott brothers will always have a special place in my heart for rescuing Snooks and Georgia-by-way-of-Dayton, Ohio bluesman Robert Ward from complete obscurity (maybe even abject poverty). And, like the shrimp my bro’ gets in St. Augustine, it’s very difficult to screw up Snooks and Robert Ward.

I could support this theory with many examples from Snooks’ Black Top years… and I’ll get around to one before we’re through here. But I’ll also point out that Snooks didn’t exactly run away and hide from ’73 to ’85. He usually performed at the annual New Orleans Jazz Fest and held steady gigs in and around the city, either backing up other acts or doing his “human jukebox” thing, following through on a surprising number of requests from the crowd. So you could make the case that his best and nastiest stuff from the Black Top years were his live recordings. Let me enter into the record exhibit A, this blazing set opener from “Black Top Blues-A-Rama, Volume 6″ – recorded live at Tipitina’s in ’89: I Cry, Oh!

God bless the Scotts, the good folks at New Orleans Jazz Fest, and the proprietors of the Mid-City Rock ‘n’ Bowl club for giving Snooks a new lease on life that carried him all the way to his untimely demise in 2009, when he died of a heart attack at the age of 73.

How does one describe his legacy? Probably the most obvious tribute is that no one played like Snooks. He could toy with a delicate melody like Apache, and then flat-out shred. But everything he played had that indelible stamp of New Orleans soul filtered through a skewed, maybe even more than a little dirty, mind (with due respect for his late wife of 36 years, Dee).

By most accounts, he was an irascible, thorny guy who trusted virtually no one. But he sure left us with some awe-inspiring music… I’ll close with this supremely funky number from “Soul’s Edge,” which also features Snooks’ main musical foil during the Black Top years, former Meters bassist George Porter Jr.: Josephine

Snooks Eaglin at the Rock 'n' Bowl

Snooks Eaglin on video… live at the former Lone Star Roadhouse in NYC, with George Porter Jr. and Kenneth Blevins (Sonny Landreth, John Hiatt) on drums. And how do you even begin to describe what he’s doing on guitar? Most of my favorite pickers don’t use picks, but I’ve never seen someone attack a guitar quite like Snooks. It’s like someone pointed a gun to flamenco legend Carlos Montoya’s head and made him play like Hendrix.

Here he’s joined by piano man Jon Cleary on a Crescent City favorite, Red Beans. When Snooks stands up, you’d better watch out…

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.

I have more than 21,000 songs on my iPod. And I wrap tin foil around my head to keep out the gamma rays.

Do you think less of me? I’m referring to the iPod, of course. Normal people would find this to be a symptom of OCD. Audiophiles would scoff at the idea of listening to all this music in a highly compressed electronic format. My brother thinks I should be more selective in terms of what I put on my iPod. But my wife likes the fact that hundreds of CDs, records and tapes are now stashed away in the deep recesses of my basement (where I routinely hunt for liner notes to help me with these posts).

One thing about having this many songs on your iPod is that you can put it on shuffle and still feel that sense of discovery. I mean, how many of those tunes could I actually listen to before I dumped them into my library? It’s like tapping into a radio station programmed by a guy with… well, tin foil wrapped around his head.

And that’s the subject of today’s post. No, not mental illness. I thought I’d put the entire contents of my iPod on shuffle and write about what pops up.

This exercise was not audited by the blog authorities. You only have my word that I didn’t screw with the results. As usual, I was surprised by what the little genie in my iPod chose to play. And, as usual, the results reflect the fact that I am completely out of touch with today’s youth culture (Exhibit A: use of term “youth culture”).

But first, let me point out that I typically don’t put my entire iPod on shuffle. It’s simply too dangerous, especially if I’m driving. I once almost drove into oncoming traffic after Coltrane segued into Coldplay, which I’m sure ended up on my music library by accident.

I prefer using playlists – even if they include several hundred songs – and I’ve got some great ones.  Drinking songs (see “There Stands the Glass“)… pure, unfiltered honky tonk… post-war jump blues and R&B, including some rare reissues that appeared on CD for about five minutes (see “Jumpin’ the Blues“)… choice cuts from the glory years of Blue Note… playlists devoted to other great labels like Stax, Sun, Fania, Riverside…

I even have my own genres – mainly because I don’t like the ones provided by the record companies. For example, I think Freddie King, Link Wray and Lonnie Mack belong in the same category as Dick Dale. So I created the genre “Surf & Beyond.” Django Reinhardt doesn’t really go with my jazz stuff… he has his own genre. The Black Keys’ “Chulahoma,” G. Love’s “Coast to Coast Motel” and John Hammond’s “Wicked Grin”? Dirty Blues. And, as I’ve already pointed out, R&B ain’t Kool & the Gang. It’s Louis Jordan, Wynonie Harris and Big Joe Turner. So take that, Mister Genre-Impaired, Think-Inside-The-Box Record Man!

But back to the grand experiment. The first tune selected by my iPod is… Strollin’ With Bone, from T-Bone Walker’s “Complete Imperial Recordings.” Whew… damn good start! I’ve always been a big fan of T-Bone, and this is one of his best numbers. T-Bone started out as a street dancer, which helps explain his almost percussive attack along with a completely original sense of time and phrasing. And he had a huge influence on virtually every blues guitarist who followed – especially flamethrowers like Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown and Johnny “Guitar” Watson. Strollin’ With Bone/T-Bone Walker

Next up – honky-tonk hero Dwight Yoakam, from his 2005 comeback of sorts, “Blame the Vain.” This isn’t my favorite cut from the album (the title song is one of Dwight’s best). But there’s a lot to like on “Blame.” Dwight’s singing is less affected than on his first recordings. And his new hot-shit guitarist, Keith Gattis, has plenty of opportunities to show off… like this nasty little riff he uses to bring the song back down to the key of E: Intentional Heartache/Dwight Yoakam

Now the iPod genie picks the great Professor Longhair, the King of New Orleans Piano. This is from the 2-CD set “The Mercury Blues ‘n’ Rhythm Story 1945-55: Southwest Blues” – actually one of four releases in a first-rate overview of Mercury’s landmark R&B recordings. I’m not sure if there is such a thing as a bad cut by Longhair. I can highly recommend the nine that show up on the Mercury collection… as well as Rhino Records’ “’Fess: The Professor Longhair Anthology” and especially “House Party New Orleans Style,” which features two of my favorite guitarists of all time – Gatemouth Brown and Snooks Eaglin. Been Fooling Around/Professor Longhair

Here’s a tune written by Johnny Cash but performed by the Louvin Brothers, who showed up in our recent post on harmony singing. You have to wonder what pit of despair Cash stumbled into to write this one: “Lord have mercy on me was the kneeling drunkard’s plea, and as he knelt there on the ground I know that God in heaven looked down… Bring my darling boy to me was his mother’s dying plea, and as he staggered through the gate alas he came just one day too late.” Give me a few minutes to recover… I’ll be right back. Kneeling Drunkard’s Plea/The Louvin Brothers

We stagger from that one to Hearsay by The Soul Children – a vocal quartet, split evenly across gender lines, that recorded for the Stax label in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. Both of the male Soul Children – Norman West and J. Blackfoot – still perform today. This tune sounds oddly reminiscent of Soul Man, which is exactly what Stax songwriters Isaac Hayes and David Porter had in mind… They were hoping to strike gold with a different combination after Sam & Dave slipped away (they remained with Atlantic following a split with Stax in ‘68). You can find Hearsay on a two-disc compilation from 2007 celebrating Stax’s 50^th Anniversary. Hearsay/The Soul Children

From Memphis we head up to Chicago – following the same route that Howlin’ Wolf took from Sun to Chess Records back in 1953. A year later he cut the song Forty-Four, one of many interpretations of a blues standard first recorded by Roosevelt Sykes in 1929. The original is more curious than menacing, with “44” used to reference a gun, a train and a cabin. Wolf, on the other hand, has one thing in mind, and that’s pumping lead into the poor sonofabitch who messed with his woman. Essential Chicago blues – with Hubert Sumlin and Jody Williams on guitars, Otis Spann on piano, Willie Dixon on bass and Earl Phillips on drums. Forty-Four/Howlin’ Wolf

And why wouldn’t you follow up that one with the dazzling sax of Sonny Stitt, playing the George and Ira Gershwin favorite Nice Work If You Can Get It? Yeah, I’m starting to get a little whiplash too. But at least this one’s by a master like Stitt, and not Sting (thankfully, I have a very effective “Sting-B-Gone” filter installed on my iPod). This version is from the 3-CD box set “Stitt’s Bits: The Bebop Recordings, 1949-1952”… with liner notes by Cleveland’s Harvey Pekar (“American Splendor”). Nothing groundbreaking on it, so don’t run out and get it – unless you happen to like beautifully executed jazz by one of the greatest sax players to ever roam the planet. Nice Work If You Can Get It/Sonny Stitt

Talk about whiplash… now we’re back in the honky tonks, this time with California cowgirl Heather Myles. I love the collection this song is from: “Rum and Rodeo,” which pulls select cuts from Heather’s first two albums on the Hightone label. She’s got a lot of that hard, Bakersfield sound in her… I’m sure she’s a woman you wouldn’t want to trifle with. An American original with loads of talent – playing music that’s authentic, honest and heartfelt. Wonder why she never caught on in Nashville? The Other Side Of Town/Heather Myles

Now let’s go down to the Crawdad Hole with Big Joe Turner. This tune is from “Big, Bad & Blue,” an essential overview of Big Joe’s storied career as the Boss of the Blues. You could argue that his glory days were long gone by the time he recorded this number in 1983 with R&B revivalists Roomful of Blues. But I would’ve paid good money to hear Big Joe sing along with the organ player at the ballpark. Now strap me in a time machine and take me back to Kansas City, 1935, Big Joe shoutin’ the blues over the boogie-woogie piano of the great Pete Johnson. Crawdad Hole/Big Joe Turner

We should’ve stopped right there… but I let my iPod play one more song, and up pops Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye. Actually, once you get past the crappy production, it’s a pretty damn good song. In fact, I’m not sure if anyone has ever celebrated the joys of getting it on with as much passion as Mr. Gaye. Well, maybe R. Kelly… but the only healing R. has in mind involves Feelin’ On Yo Booty (this is the same guy who recorded Heaven, I Need A Hug??). Come back, Marvin – we need you now more than ever…

R.I.P., Harvey… On the same morning I pushed the button on this one, Harvey Pekar passed away. Here’s a nice tribute in today’s New York Times. I found it interesting that Pekar might have been banned from the Letterman Show for lashing out against General Electric, then Letterman himself started trash-talking GE toward the end of his tenure at NBC. Here’s a clip of Harvey’s tirade… he’ll be missed (now I feel silly for wasting even a sliver of bandwidth on LeBron).

Since Brother Jack did such a great job of taking us down to New Orleans in his last post on James Booker, I decided to stay there – and offer up a few of my favorite examples of Crescent City Soul.

The history of New Orleans R&B is filled with characters like Roy Montrell – incredibly talented musicians who kept the tradition alive but received little or no recognition for their efforts.  Montrell played on countless sides during his 20-some years as a session guitarist and toured with New Orleans elite, including Fats Domino.  But he only recorded two singles under his own name.  My first pick makes the case that they should’ve kept the tape running a lot longer…  It features some of the Crescent City’s best players – including the great Earl Palmer on drums and the one-two punch of Red Tyler (baritone) and Lee Allen (tenor) on saxes.  Don’t let the title fool you… (Every Time I Hear) That Mellow Saxophone is a masterpiece of manic energy. (Every Time I Hear) That Mellow Saxophone

Even casual fans of the New Orleans tradition are aware of Dr. John’s legacy as a first-rate piano player, soulful singer and conjurer of dark spirits.  But few know that the man who started his career as Mac Rebennack was an equally dangerous guitar player with a slashing style.  (In his highly entertaining autobiography, “Under a Hoodoo Moon: The Life of Dr. John the Night Tripper,” Rebennack notes that he switched to piano after someone shot the ring finger on his left hand.)   The best of Rebennack’s guitar-driven singles, along with a few other novelties, can be found on “Medical School: The Early Sessions of Mac ‘Dr. John’ Rebennack” on the Music Club label.  Listen to him work out on the aptly titled Storm Warning… Storm Warning

The legendary Professor Longhair cast a long shadow over every Crescent City keyboard player who fell under his spell (although he may have been outdone by the ridiculously talented James Booker).  Thankfully, we can find many examples of his masterful playing on a number of releases, including a fine anthology on Rhino.  But I keep coming back to a classic version of Big Chief, recorded in 1964 at the studio of famed New Orleans engineer Cosimo Matassa.  Oddly enough, this tough-as-nails single features Dr. John on guitar and relegates an even better guitar player, Earl King, to the role of “whistler” – while Longhair sounds a little buried under the stabbing horns.  But it all works… and it’s hard to find better examples of what n’yawlins rhythm is all about… Big Chief

The easiest way to describe the Meters is “Booker T & the MGs filtered through New Orleans”… but it doesn’t begin to capture the essence of a band that churned out one monstrous groove after another during an incredible run from 1965 to 1977.  Although singer and keyboard player Art Neville went on to join his brothers in forming the city’s most famous family band, he continues to perform today with other original Meters in various lineups.  But their output from the late ‘60s to the early ‘70s is like raw meat to the world’s greatest rhythm sections – the stuff you dive into when you’ve had your fill of the rest.  Listen to how guitar player Leo Nocentelli teases the beat on this funky little gem from 1969. Cardova

In 2005, Nonesuch Records released “Our New Orleans,” a post-Katrina benefit to raise funds for the relief efforts of Habitat for Humanity.  It featured newly recorded songs by a number of musicians identified with the New Orleans sound, including the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Allen Toussaint and Eddie Bo.  But my favorite cut is by the Queen of Crescent City Soul, Irma Thomas.  She’s been covered by artists ranging from the Rolling Stones (Time Is On My Side) to Norah Jones (Ruler Of My Heart, backed by the Dirty Dozen).  Although bowed by a music biz doesn’t seem to have much use for a 68-year-old R&B legend, Irma is far from broken.  She remains one of New Orleans’ most vital artists — as evidenced by her emotional take on this original by a prescient Bessie Smith.  Back Water Blues

Although famous for his hit Working in a Coal Mine, Lee Dorsey recorded far-funkier sides during his 25-year career – usually under the production of New Orleans renaissance man Allen Toussaint.  And, like virtually every other artist in this list, Dorsey kept cranking out one gem after another while remaining virtually unnoticed by the music industry.  But he’s making a posthumous comeback, with the Obama Nation and several indie rockers adopting his classic anthem Yes We Can Can (written by Toussaint) as a tribute to the power of positive thinking.  But I’m partial to the deep groove laid down by – who else – the Meters on a song from 1970 that seems like a raw prelude to Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On. Who’s Gonna Help Brother Get Further

The New Orleans sound continues to evolve, thanks to artists like drummer Stanton Moore.  He’d already mastered the city’s highly syncopated rhythms by the time he formed Galactic in 1994 – another jam-band with a rabid following.  And he’s a restless innovator who seems to jump from one lineup of musicians to another at the drop of a drumstick.  But the recordings he’s made under his own name seem a little closer to the root, and I love the way he turns the tradition inside out on this cut from “Flyin’ the Coop.”  It also features Chris Wood from Medeski, Martin & Wood, as well as a sampled chant from the Wild Magnolias Mardi Gras Indians.  Modern New Orleans music doesn’t get much better than this… Fallin’ Off the Floor

Dr. John with the Baby Dolls at Mardi Gras, 2008 (Photos: James Quine)

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.