Rubber City Review

Just when you thought two-piece bands had run their course, into the sandbox jumps Husky Burnette. And yes, he’s part of the same bloodline that brought us Johnny and Dorsey Burnette (if you don’t know who those two guys are, you probably should head on back to Drunken Vegan right now). Husky calls Chattanooga home, but he’s currently on tour with his drummer Tony “Tonky Ponk” Jones supporting their new release on the Cracker Swamp label – “Facedown in the Dirt.” They take North Mississippi Hill Country blues, drag it through a few hollers, douse it with kerosene and blow it up real good (here’s a taste: Mile Marker 68). R.L. Burnside and Charlie Feathers would be proud… not to mention cousins Johnny and Dorsey. But rather than bore you with the many virtues of this fine effort, I thought I’d let the man speak for himself.

T.Q.: Almost found myself facedown last weekend, so I’m really enjoying the new album. Sounds like it was recorded live – thick, greasy and in your face. Fill us in on how you made it.

H.B.: The album was recorded at Fry Pharmacy Studios in Nashville, TN. 16-track tape machine, reel to reel, like the lord intended! It was done live off the floor which I love doing cause you get that “feeling,” as opposed to tracking it where you can’t play off of each other. Plus, there’s only two of us… with the exception of Zach Shedd on upright bass on two tracks. So if someone messes up just do the tune over, no big deal. Very comfortable place to record.

Leo Kottke famously described his singing as reminiscent of “geese farts on a muggy day”… How would you describe your voice?

I have no idea how to describe it. I’ve heard lots of things, but maybe too much greasy chicken, whiskey with a glass of nails chaser and cigarettes… and not enough training.

Johnny and Dorsey Burnette

I see you’re a third cousin of Johnny and Dorsey Burnette. I don’t hear too much of the rockabilly influence, but definitely some hillbilly. How did you get into the whole Hill Country dirty blues thing?

I was introduced to more modern (at the time, late-80s) Chicago and Texas-style blues by my Uncle Tim. So I decided to find exactly where that came from after hearing about other artists… And also after seeing who really wrote certain songs in liner notes, I went looking for those particular artists. Went as far back as Son House, Furry Lewis and Robert Johnson etc then eventually settled in a Hill Country style cause it made me move and stomp more than anything. Gotta love the stomp-trance style.

When it comes to primal, honest-to-god rock ‘n roll, the Johnny Burnette Trio is as good as it gets. Rumor has it Johnny started yelping during Paul Burlison’s guitar solos when he backed into one of Burlison’s lit cigarettes (Rockbilly Boogie)… Any truth to that rumor?

Man I have no clue. I seriously doubt it but how funny would that be? All these singers still doing it today all cause of a cigarette burn… haha. Truth is, I know nothing all that deep about them – only the stories I heard from my grandfather and his brothers (all first cousins to Johnny and Dorsey), from their father, and from my uncles Tim and Rick.

Love the opening to Preacher Man. Is that a nod to David Byrne (Once in a Lifetime), or did Byrne lift that rap from an actual sermon?

The preaching – that’s my last drummer, Dave Dowda, before I got Tony, my current drummer in the lineup. Before I even knew Dave I heard he would get drunk and “preach” 80s pop song lyrics like a baptist preacher (being from Lafayette, GA in the bible belt I guess he was too familiar with it). So I made him do it at certain shows as an intro and definitely wanted it for the recording. I still give a nod to Byrne though.

Taking potshots at preachers is a fairly dicey proposition in the Deep South (half my family is from Milledgeville, GA)… What’s your take on organized religion?

Well Tim, it’s kind of like that game, Just The Tip, Just For A Minute. Know what I mean? OK.

Interesting answer – and I have to say, I like how you southern boys roll (up here it’s “just for a second”)… You take it down a few notches on McCoy’s Blues. What’s the story behind that tune?

I actually wrote the song after hearing the troubles a close friend of mine, Roland McCoy, had just gone through before and during his divorce. I really dig that tune.

In another interview (with a far-less-important blog, no doubt), you mention that your van was almost run over by another band’s tour bus… Would you like to expand on that?

We played Chicago last year a day before Exodus and Malevolent Creation. The club told us to crash there for two nights and watch the shows, so we went roaming around and sightseeing during the daytime. While out I had two people calling and calling and calling and raising hell saying the Exodus bus driver was about to physically move my van with their bus. I guess I was parked too close to load-in. It was a huge ordeal cause I couldn’t get back to the club for an hour or two and my cell phone was dying. I love Exodus though. Not that juicy of a story though…

The first real band I joined (“real” meaning paid gigs) was The Warsaw Falcons, a neo-rockabilly outfit based in Cincinnati. I was fresh out of college and just landed a job downtown, editing a magazine for the screen printing industry. So I needed the gigs more for mental health reasons than income.

Our main weapon was our fearless leader, David Rhodes Brown, a great singer and songwriter who also happened to be a one-man wrecking crew on guitar. It always amazed me how he could play the right notes and even actual chords while his limbs were flailing in every direction. And the spectacle of a man well over six feet tall prowling the stage like a mad hyena only added to the buzz surrounding our band.

Thankfully, Dave had a mild-mannered sidekick, Tom Schneider, who played sax and sang lead on a number of songs, including a few he wrote. Since we didn’t exclusively play originals, Tom and Dave would go through a painstaking process to find fairly unconventional songs to cover – mainly to create the illusion that everything we did was fresh and new.

I touched on one of those tunes here, a slow-burning number by Conway Twitty called Lonely Blue Boy. We also covered Trying to Get to You, a song originally recorded in ’54 by an R&B group called The Eagles and reinterpreted by Elvis the following year during his groundbreaking sessions at Sun Studios. Other gems included Rip It Up by Little Richard, Shame Shame Shame by Jimmy Reed and Break Up by Charlie Rich.

Which brings us to Ricky Nelson and the shit-hot rockabilly sides he recorded with legendary stringbender James Burton.

Back in the late ‘70s, I prided myself on being somewhat of a purist when it came to blues and rockabilly. Why listen to Clapton cover Robert Johnson or Skip James when you can go directly to the source? And Ricky Nelson… wasn’t he some slick, preening star of a crappy TV show that my older siblings used to ridicule?

Well, I’ve since learned that a puristic approach to music is essentially useless (hell, it’s fun to hear Mick Jagger ape Muddy Waters). And one of my first lessons along those lines was finding out about songs like Believe What You Say and It’s Late that featured Nelson’s seemingly effortless vocals framed by Burton’s blazing leads: Believe What You Say

Tom and Dave jumped all over Believe, which quickly became one of the Falcons’ show-stoppers. And that sent me searching for other rockabilly tunes by baby-faced Nelson and the dangerous guitslinger Burton, who somehow made his Fender Telecaster sound pretty and menacing at the same time.

On paper, the combination seemed highly improbable. Born in Dubberly, Louisiana, Burton started playing professionally at the age of 14 and eventually joined the staff band of the famous Louisiana Hayride radio show in Shreveport, where he backed up country stars like George Jones and Johnny Horton. Meanwhile, Nelson – a native of Teaneck, New Jersey – was growing up under the hot glare of Hollywood studio lights as a child actor on “The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet” featuring his real-life parents and siblings. But Burton and Nelson obviously shared a deep appreciation of Elvis Presley and the hillbilly music that inspired his first recordings at Sun Studios.

Kirkland, Nelson and Burton

Burton arrived in L.A. in ’57 to do some shows and sessions for rockabilly singer Bob Luman (My Gal is Red Hot). At the same time, a 17-year-old Nelson was making his first forays into the music biz, having covered Fats Domino’s I’m Walkin’ and a few other tunes for the jazz-based Verve label. Nelson caught Luman’s band rehearsing for a rock ‘n roll movie and apparently liked what he heard. Shortly after that, Burton received a telegram asking him and bass player James Kirkland to perform on “Ozzie and Harriet” as part of Nelson’s backing band. Before long, they had severed ties with Luman and went all-in with Nelson, who then signed a lucrative five-year deal with Imperial Records (thanks mainly to Ozzie Nelson’s considerable clout). Burton even moved in with the non-fictional Nelsons for a couple of years before he found his own place to stay.

The best of Nelson’s Imperial recordings – mostly featuring Burton, but also including a few with monster picker Joe Maphis – are available on Ace Records’ “Rockin’ with Ricky” (you also can find many of these cuts on “Lonesome Town: The Complete Record Releases, 1957-1959″). “Rockin’” includes a few syrupy duds, but most of it is top-shelf rock ‘n roll. And Burton, who already had cemented his status as a guitar legend with a vicious solo on Dale Hawkins’ Susie Q, was clearly at the top of his game: Shirley Lee

Actually, some of the best moments are in the more polished, tightly arranged numbers, where Burton’s twisted guitar seem almost subversive. You get the sense he was openly mocking the background singers and other sappy flourishes. Just for the hell of it, I spliced together a couple of solos on this next sample: Burton solos: Oh Yeah, I’m in Love/Stop Sneakin’ Around

But there’s plenty of raw meat to go along with the pop-flavored desserts. Among other blues and rockabilly standards, Nelson and band even cover Little Walter’s number one R&B single from 1955: My Babe

And call it heresy, but Nelson’s version of Milk Cow Blues may be my favorite of the many takes on this age-old standard: Milk Cow Blues

Burton stuck with Nelson all the way through 1967, when he gave in to a steady gig on the TV show “Shindig!” and a lot of well-paying session work in L.A. (he was a member of the hallowed Wrecking Crew, a group of hard-bitten studio musicians who contributed to thousands of hit songs in the Sixties by artists ranging from The Monkees and Nancy Sinatra to The Beach Boys and Simon & Garfunkel).

In 1969, Burton signed on with Elvis Presley and was a fixture in his band until the King’s untimely demise in 1977. He also was a founding member of Emmylou Harris’ Hot Band and spent 16 years touring and recording with John Denver. In 1990, Burton moved back to Shreveport, where he continues to perform – mainly to raise money for his charitable foundation, which provides musical scholarships and instruments to children and young adults.

On the other hand, Nelson was cut down at the young age of 45 – victim of a rickety aircraft that also killed six other members of his entourage, including his fiancee and bandmates (the pilots somehow survived). Nelson had experienced some success since Burton’s departure – including a Top 40 hit with Garden Party in 1972. And although his career had been in limbo before the crash occurred on New Year’s Eve in 1985, he rarely failed to deliver live and consistently surrounded himself with first-rate musicians.

Since my buddies in the Falcons turned me on to Nelson and Burton, I came across a few other musicians who couldn’t get enough of the Imperial singles. But the greatest validation of their place in rock history came during one of my chats with cousin Robert Quine, who is responsible for some of the most distinctive and uncompromising solos you can find on any instrument, in any genre.

Rob’s playing sounded like no one else, but I knew it was informed by early rock ‘n roll. So I asked him something along the lines of, who were some of your first influences? And what sent you down the path of pursuing a life-long career as a guitar player?

His response surprised me at first, but then made total sense. He said he started to get serious about the guitar when he first heard James Burton playing with Ricky Nelson.

Nelson and Burton on video… Nasty solo by Burton on this one – a cover of Ray Charles’ number one R&B hit from 1955:

Thank god Nelson was a star on a hit TV show – lots of great footage on youtube. Here’s a clip of Nelson and Burton screwing around on acoustic guitars:

A few posts back, I touched on my stint playing in a Columbus, Ohio bar band. And one of the pleasures of that assignment was opening for and rubbing up against some fairly respectable players, including Roy Buchanan, James Cotton, The Fabulous Thunderbirds, The Paladins and Anson Funderburgh with Sam Myers, to name a few.

Those gigs fed my fantasies of living the life of an honest-to-god bluesrockin’ missionary, spreading the good word in roadhouse bars across America. That is, until I met the lovable lunatic Evan Johns – one of the most original guitar players who never hit the big time.

Although Johns’ unique approach to his instrument betrayed no hint of formal training, he could launch into a beautiful mess of sublime, jazzy chords. Then minutes later, he’d choke out the nastiest, filthiest, most blood-curdling sounds you’ve ever heard coming from a Fender. And he didn’t sing as much as howl, much like one of Dexter’s victims braying over the sound of a radial saw: Vacation Time

Born in Virginia and bred in the D.C.-area bar circuit, Johns guesses he started playing professionally before he even got out of grade school. And he swam in the city’s big pool of talent that included legendary pickers like Buchanan, Link Wray, Danny Gatton, Roy Clark and Jimmy Thackery.

I first heard Johns’ playing on a Grammy-nominated compilation from 1985 called “Trash, Twang and Thunder: Big Guitars from Texas,” an orgy of Telecaster-driven excess (Johns had moved to Austin the previous year). But I was really floored by the garage-rock masterpiece he recorded in ’82 with his band the H-Bombs, “Rollin’ Through the Night.” The album was released four years later on Alternative Tentacles, a record label founded by punk-rocker Jello Biafra of the Dead Kennedys (who remains one of Johns’ biggest champions). Johns and band make a joyful noise throughout, completely uninformed by any bad trend in music that had come and gone since the first rockabillies roamed the planet back in the mid-‘50s. Here’s a taste (stick around for the solo on this one): Sugar Cookie

So you can imagine my excitement in ’88 when I found out we were opening for Evan Johns and the H-Bombs at Stache’s, an oversized rec room of a music club just north of Ohio State campus. And after we set up our equipment the afternoon of the show, we waited patiently for the band’s arrival.

A few hours went by before a beat-up Econoline van pulled in front of the club. One of the band members (no roadies) slowly walked to the back of the van and opened up the double doors. Evan Johns practically spilled out onto High Street, giving new meaning to the term “many miles of bad road.” He stumbled into the club, wearing a soiled but stylish western shirt. Random swaths of greasy hair were either glued to his scalp or struggling to break free, and small bits of foam rubber were stuck to the side of his face. He took one look at our outstretched hands and, in a voice straight out of Dixie and the depths of hell, immediately asked for a large quantity of Busch beer. And there I was, staring at the face of my future as a road-dog musician.

Johns knocked back about six beers just changing the strings of his guitar. He stacked the empties on top of his amp and, by the time he began playing, much of the floor behind the amp was covered too. But he still managed to amaze those of us who were wearing out his latest album while scaring some of the unsuspecting kids who had wandered up from campus by mistake.

He played red-hot rockabilly instrumentals and bruising western swing workouts that sounded like Bob Wills had replaced the Texas Playboys with members of Megadeth. And his short, sturdy originals seemed to describe a lifestyle more familiar to carnies and crackheads than a “weekend warrior” like me with a steady government paycheck: Madhouse

We shared a few more gigs with Evan Johns and the H-Bombs over the next couple years. I didn’t spend much time with him, although he lit up considerably when I handed him that first 12-pack of cheap domestic beer. I had the opportunity to introduce him from the stage at one gig. Made some earnest comments about Johns being a true folk artist in the sense that everything he plays is genuine, unfiltered and steeped in real American music. Or some such nonsense… I was trying to match Johns beer-for-beer that night – should’ve written it down.

But Johns struck up a lasting friendship with our frontman, Ray Fuller. “I jammed with him a few times back in ’90, mostly playing rhythm to his lead,” Fuller said. “He asked me to do a bunch of Midwest dates with him, but I couldn’t commit at the time. We met up again in ’95 at the big rockabilly weekend in Marion, Indiana, the home of James Dean. We took Evan out to see Dean’s grave and then to the museum in Fairmount (apparently Johns is a bit of a history buff). Evan had a case of beer in his hotel room and was drinking one for breakfast when we picked him up.”

As you can imagine, the years haven’t been kind to Johns, who has struggled to make a living as a working musician. Although popular in Scandinavia, Johns hasn’t been able to sustain much of a following in the U.S. due to his take-no-prisoners style and erratic behavior. And a mixed bag of albums released on Rykodisc, Freedom and his own Jellyroll label (including one produced by Bruce Springsteen’s bass player, Garry Tallent) have generated little in the way of sales. None pack the wallop of “Rollin’ Through the Night,” although one comes close – a Christmas album released on Rykodisc on ’91 called “Please Mr. Santa Claus” (I still have my red vinyl copy, now fetching about $60 on amazon). Actually, beyond the title song, the album sidesteps the standard yuletide novelties in favor of first-rate instrumentals like a blazing version of Telstar and this odd little ditty: Santa’s Little Helper

A lifetime of drinking Busch and Buds from sunup to way past sundown has certainly taken its toll. Johns almost lost his eyesight in the early ‘90s from cataracts, and more recently, an undisclosed illness has placed him on a long list of candidates for a liver transplant.

Concerned about Johns’ worsening health, a group of friends and musicians in Austin held a benefit last November to raise money for his medical expenses. Performers included Kelly Willis, Gurf Morlix, the LeRoi Brothers and the superbly named Gay Sportscasters.

He’s been described as his own worst enemy and “a coot who isn’t old.” I prefer to think of him as the very definition of an enlightened rogue – an outsider artist of sorts who deserves far more fame and recognition for his wonderfully skewed guitar playing, singing and songwriting. And although I never really hit the road myself, I’ll always love Evan Johns for bringing his sanctified holy-rollin’ revival to our cozy little bar in Columbus.

If I Had My Way/Evan Johns and the H-Bombs

For more on Evan Johns and his music, let me direct you to an excellent profile written some 13 years ago by Eddie Dean for the Washington City Paper. Here’s an excerpt:

“All the on- and offstage histrionics wouldn’t have amounted to squat if Johns hadn’t been a bona fide guitar hero. He is casually eloquent, squeezing noise out of his Tele in ways that have nothing to do with roadhouse picking and grinning. He solos against himself, setting up riffs that he backfills with musical quotes, jokes, and hiccups that build until you find yourself laughing in spite of yourself. Over a beer, Johns is a witty guy. On a guitar, he is smarter and even funnier, Lenny Bruce and Henny Youngman and a hundred other inspired notions wrapped up in one big noisy sound.”

And here’s a little number by Ray Fuller & The Bluesrockers that’s sort of a tribute to our old pal Evan Johns (recorded live at Stache’s in ’92): Everything That’s Good

A 56-year-old rockabilly legend teams up with some hungry young hotshots… throws them 16 hard-bitten songs that are ready to burn… and then lets it rip in an old-school analog studio, where everything is recorded in glorious mono. An instant classic? Maybe in a parallel universe, where Elvis swears off pharmaceuticals and fried banana sandwiches. In the real world, it’s just another great record that few people heard before it dropped off the face of the earth.

Of course, it didn’t help that the label, Upstart, quietly folded only a few years after the record was released in 1996. Or that the artist, Ronnie Dawson, only had about five good years left in him before he died of throat cancer in 2003. Or that rockabilly remains a genre of limited interest to most people.

Dawson, aka “The Blonde Bomber,” was no stranger to adversity. A native of Dallas, he was surrounded by music as a kid – his dad, “Pinky,” fronted his own western swing band. The younger Dawson soon picked up the guitar and became a teen sensation playing rock ‘n roll and honky tonk music in the Dallas area. And he quickly gained the attention of the ageless one himself, Dick Clark, who signed him to his Swan label. But then Clark and his label got caught up in the “payola” scandal of the late-‘50s that also dragged down former Rubber City DJ Alan Freed. And Dawson was sent adrift, without a label or opportunities to capitalize on his early hits, like Action Packed or this one… Rockin’ Bones

A Young Blonde Bomber

The Blonde Bomber eventually signed with Columbia, where he recorded several first-rate singles. I especially like the B side to Do Do Do, released in ’61. It’s a churning blues-rocker called Who’s Been Here, with Dawson (under the alias Commonwealth Jones) wailing away in his high-pitched, almost otherworldly voice… Who’s Been Here

Dawson also carved out a niche for himself as a multi-instrumental session player, even showing up as a drummer on notable rockers like Hey! Baby by Bruce Channel and Hey Paula by Paul and Paula (effectively cornering the “hey” market). But he always remained well under the radar screen – except in Europe, where his rockabilly hits were revered by roots-music fanatics throughout the Continent.

In his book “Texas Music” (published in 1998), journalist Rick Koster tags Dawson as a “Criminally Underrated Artist”: “Ronnie Dawson is an ageless phenomenon, a fire-fingered genius who helped create rockabilly and then resurrected it forty years later – all without seeming to move in time.”

Eddie Angel

Beginning in the late ‘80s, Dawson decided to build on his newfound cult status across the pond by recording several albums in England. I especially like the previously mentioned release from ’96, “Just Rockin’ & Rollin’” – mainly because it features the blazing guitars of Los Straitjackets member Eddie Angel and another young turk, Amsterdam native Tjarko Jeen. And Dawson, who had been shredding since his teens, brought his own bag of tricks to the proceedings. I’m not sure who’s who on this next cut (I think Jeen takes the first solo, then Angel), but it’s pretty clear these guys came to play… Sucker For A Cheap Guitar

As you can tell, the album was recorded in near-complete denial of the improvements that had been made in studio technology since the first rockabilly records were waxed in the mid-‘50s. And this, of course, is another one of its key strengths. It’s as if someone had rescued the “Rockin’” sessions from a long-lost tape discovered at a garage sale in Memphis. Just Rockin’ and Rollin’

Tjarko Jeen

But this is hardly just another form of retro-mania. For a fairly hard-core rockabilly cat, Dawson brought a nice diversity of material to the Upstart project. A couple of songs even fall under the category of border-rock. In a 1999 article that appeared in the Dallas Observer, Dawson mentioned that he was inspired to write Mexigo and Veronica after sharing the stage with conjunto accordionist Mingo Saldivar in 1994 at Carnegie Hall, where both men performed as part of a roots-revivalist showcase. “Wearing a big grin, Dawson says they’re ‘conjuntobilly’ songs,” noted writer Robert Wilonsky. Here’s a little visit to Mexigo.

Even with these side trips thrown in, “Rockin’” comes across exactly as billed – no-frills rock ‘n roll made by grown men with bad habits and scars to prove it… You Got a Long Way to Go

Dawson recorded two more albums after “Rockin’” – “Live at the Continental Club” (released in ‘98) and “More Bad Habits” (’99) – and kept touring like his life depended on it… which was probably the case, given the shamanistic powers of his live performances. And even though he couldn’t beat the Big C, his legacy lives on through classic rockers that bear the unique stamp of this bigger-than-life Texan.

The Blonde Bomber, live at L.A.’s Blue Saloon (Nov. 1990)… Dawson backed by a great rockabilly and western swing band from Southern California, Big Sandy and His Fly-Rite Boys. I love how this amateur video seems to drop you right in front of the band at one of those small bars where a stage seemed like a frivolous expense. So good, I had to include two clips (Dawson’s beaming grin during V-8 Ford Boogie seems to say it all)…

At what point did we know that the box set was deceased?

Was it when the German Bear Family label released a 12-CD collection (with hardcover book) of Pat Boone’s complete ‘50s recordings? Or when America’s leading reissue label, Rhino Records, laid off 20 percent of its staff – resigning itself to the fact that the vast majority of people under 30 refuse to pay for music?

Regardless, it’s been a good run for those of us who like to deep-dive into our favorite artists’ back catalogs. So let’s cherish the digital memories… even as we curse the unwieldy cardboard boxes taking up valuable shelf space in our partially assembled particle-board entertainment centers.

Here’s the rest of the list we started in our last post – five more box sets that you probably don’t have the time to listen to (although one kept me from going insane during a major paint removal project).

Sonny Rollins: The Complete Prestige Recordings… Members of the assembly, have we grown soft worshipping false idols? There is only one Greek god of the saxophone, and his name is Rollins. Let us bow down as he hurls mighty bolts of power and majesty from his throne atop Mount Colossus. Sorry… I get a little giddy listening to the “Complete Prestige Recordings,” which captures the meteoric rise of Sonny Rollins from journeyman be-bopper to one of the true giants of jazz. He was a man of contradictions, a daring soloist who could burn with blazing speed and dexterity but often played his favorite show tunes with great reverence (and maybe just a tinge of irony). And that lyricism often seemed at odds with a sound that was about as bold and muscular as any one man can wring out of an acoustic instrument. There’s a lot of variety in this set as Rollins supports Miles Davis and Thelonious Monk, and even goes head-to-head with John Coltrane on Tenor Madness. But the best tunes are those with Rollins firmly in charge, and the opening to You Don’t Know What Love Is – from his masterpiece, “Saxophone Colossus” – even sets the gold standard for “jazz noir”… You Don’t Know What Love Is

What It Is! Funky Soul and Rare Grooves… Those of you who collect vinyl usually enjoy the act of crate-diving – the thrill of the hunt, as they say. In my younger days, I spent a fair amount of time combing rat-infested record stores. Now I thank god for labels like Rhino Records for doing all the hard work for me and coming up with outstanding collections like “What It Is!” As allmusic.com rightfully points out, “it would cost a fortune to collect these songs in their original form of release.” I say, just bring me the goods – and Rhino delivers. Even hard-core collectors of rare funk and soul give the label credit for digging especially deep to come up with some great hidden gems on this one, although a few of the artists (Aretha, Commodores, Curtis Mayfield) are hardly unknown. In another post, I featured my favorite song from this collection – Fairchild by Willie West. Here’s another standout cut from “What It Is!”… You Gotta Know Watcha Doin’/Charles Wright

Crescent City Soul: The Sound of New Orleans, 1947-1974… In one episode of the new HBO show “Treme,” much is made of an out-of-print box set by famous New Orleans producer, arranger, bandleader and all-around musical wizard Dave Bartholomew (basically, nutjob DJ Davis steals it in an act of revenge). Well, I wouldn’t mind stealing “The Genius of Dave Bartholomew” myself. But in terms of sheer awesomeness, I’d have to give the edge to this 4-CD, 119-song, equally hard-to-find set featuring some of the greatest songs ever recorded in the Crescent City. And yes, Bartholomew has a hand in a lot of them – Trick Bag by Earl King, Stack A Lee by Archibald and Walking to New Orleans by Fats Domino, to name a few. So good, it was named the “official collection of the 1996 New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival.” And so hard to describe in just one paragraph, so I’ll leave you with just two of the many delicious R&B nuggets on “Crescent City Soul.” By the by, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum will honor 89-year-old Bartholomew and long-time musical partner Fats Domino, 82, in its 15th Annual American Musical Masters Series set for this November in Cleveland. I Done Got Over It/Irma Thomas Travellin’ Mood/Wee Willie Wayne

Miles Davis: The Complete Columbia Studio Recordings of the Miles Davis Quintet… Back in the early ’60s, who would’ve thought that Miles Davis could top his legendary quintet with John Coltrane (the one that recorded the classic “Kind of Blue”)? Well, in just a few short years, Miles had assembled a new band that some jazz fanatics simply call “the second great quintet.” Miles, Wayne Shorter on sax, Herbie Hancock on piano, Ron Carter on bass and Tony Williams on drums. It’s no exaggeration to say that hundreds of contemporary jazz acts are modeled after this band. Miles’ new quintet started out deconstructing the same standards that the Miles-Coltrane band perfected – songs like Stella by Starlight and All of You. Then they ventured off into playing original compositions, many by Shorter, that simply served as launching pads for the kind of breathtaking group improvisation heard here… Footprints And toward the end of their tenure, they built the foundation for Miles’ next journey into the land of electric funk… Stuff I’ve listened to this set many times, but I still feel a sense of discovery every time I play it.

Rockin’ Bones: 1950s Punk and Rockabilly… Another fine set from the good folks at Rhino – a wild ride through the many joys of ‘50s rock ‘n roll, hillbilly style. I would’ve been disappointed with another collection of the classic stuff I already own. So I especially like the way this one moves from the familiar (Summertime Blues by Eddie Cochran) to the obscure (Down on the Farm by Al Downing). Of course, rockabilly purists might argue that the set is skewed in favor of the familiar, and some might question the “punk” label being applied to music that appeared some 20 years before the Sex Pistols spat on their first fan (although I’m not sure I can come up with a better label for this next tune, which later was subject to even greater depravity at the hands of psychobilly sickos the Cramps: Love Me/The Phantom). But let’s not pick nits – this is hugely enjoyable stuff. And, since many of the artists are of Appalachian descent, there’s also some first-rate guitar pickin’ throughout. Plus the audio clips from vintage teen-film trailers – like this one and this one – make it even more essential. Play it in your car and obey the speed limit… I dare you. Action Packed/Johnny Dollar

Ten more worth mentioning:

• Joe Henderson: The Blue Note Years… This set features the pride of Lima, Ohio, as bandleader and sideman (with, among others, Lee Morgan, Horace Silver and McCoy Tyner). But it really tells the story of one label’s glory years.
• Sam Cooke’s SAR Records Story… As a label head, Sam Cooke was full of surprises – from the gritty gospel of the Womack Brothers to the juke-joint blues of  Johnnie Morisette.
• Sir Douglas Quintet: The Complete Mercury Recordings… The king of border rock plays some of our farfisa-driven favorites and a whole lot of Texas rock ‘n soul. Plus Mendocino en Español!
• James Brown: Star Time… Still the best funk collection ever assembled. Slap it on at a party and let the games begin.
• The House That Trane Built… Another great overview of a groundbreaking label – in this case, John Coltrane’s last stop, Impulse!
• Cuba: I Am Time… A cigar box that holds the island’s greatest export – a rich musical tradition that contemporary Cuban bands seem to reinvent every day.
• Big Ol’ Box of New Orleans… Some overlap with “Crescent City Soul,” but another outstanding collection of prime R&B from the cradle of American roots music, with more of a modern twist.
• Thelonious Monk: The Columbia Years… An exhaustive set would have many versions of the same composition. Thankfully, this 3-CD set offers a more diverse overview – from solo to big band performances.
• Muddy Waters: The Chess Box… Probably my first box set – a Christmas gift from my mom. She called it “jukin’ music.” I call it the source of all that is good and right in the world.
• Dexter Gordon: The Complete Blue Note Sixties Sessions… A 6-CD meditation on what it means to be “urbane.”

Blues, New Orleans-style… The late, great Earl King at the Chicago Blues Festival, doing that thing that he used to do so well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I recently read that Jack White (White Stripes, Dead Weather, Raconteurs) produced a new album by rockabilly queen Wanda Jackson. Sounded like the perfect deal to me – love White and love Wanda. And judging by White’s inspired makeover of Loretta Lynn on 2004’s “Van Lear Rose,” I had every reason to believe that Wanda Jackson would come out of this with a whole new sense of purpose.

Well, that still might be the case… but it probably won’t have much to do with what I’ve heard so far from the White-Wanda collaboration.

The first “single” out of the chute (available on iTunes or on vinyl through White’s label Third Man Records) features two covers – Amy Winehouse’s You Know I’m No Good, and Shakin’ All Over by Sixties British rockers Johnny Kidd & The Pirates. The problem with the first is that it sounds a lot like Winehouse’s version, except without her amazingly expressive voice. And the second adds a fairly meaningless layer of horns on top of a classic rock riff that needs no help at all, thank you (the Who still owns the best remake of this song, from “Live at Leeds”).

Wanda sounds game on both cuts, but they don’t really play to her greatest strength as a vocalist – a primal sexuality with just enough purr to keep most men from running for the hills. I like to think of her as Howlin’ Wolf in drag, with a country twang.

If anything, White’s single sent me back (again) to one of the most enjoyable collections of music I own – “Queen of Rockabilly: The Very Best of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Years,” on Ace Records (UK import). It’s an embarrassment of riches… great sound, hot pickin’, cool covers of rock classics, and the unbridled pleasures of Wanda wailin’ into one of those big, tube-driven microphones.

Now, Wanda wasn’t an innovator in the same sense as Elvis or even the most dangerous rockabilly band on the planet at that time, the Johnny Burnette Trio. Her producer at Capitol Records, Ken Nelson, was known mainly for hit country singles, and he recorded Wanda at Capitol’s state-of-the-art studio in Los Angeles. So none of these songs had the same edge as the nastier stuff that came out of Sam Phillips’ studio in Memphis. But Nelson knew a great voice when he heard it – and his clean, uncluttered arrangements put the focus squarely on Wanda’s voice, just the way God and Elvis intended. Case in point… Let’s Have a Party

That cut was recorded with a mixed-race band from Arkansas called Bobby Poe & the Kats. And its dangerous attitude can be partially credited to Elvis Presley, who dated Wanda a few times when they toured together back in the mid-’50s. According to Wanda, Elvis schooled her on the blues and encouraged her to toughen up her sound by moving from country to rockabilly. Mission accomplished.

A native of Maud, Oklahoma, Wanda was raised on country music. Her father was an aspiring country singer who moved the family to Los Angeles in the ’40s, probably hoping to land a record deal with one of the city’s big labels, but eventually moved back east to Oklahoma City. His musical aspirations soon shifted to young Wanda, who won a talent contest in high school as well as the attention of country star Hank Thompson, who asked her to perform with his Brazos Valley Boys in 1954. She recorded a few singles on Capitol Records with Thompson’s band – You Can’t Have My Love reached number eight on the country charts – but certainly didn’t gain enough notoriety to make Kitty Wells nervous. Then Wanda met Elvis, signed with Capitol as a solo artist, and recorded 30-some tunes that were among the most prized possessions of rockabilly collectors around the world (until Ace Records spoiled the fun in 2000 by finally making all of them available in one place).

Wanda didn’t stick with rockabilly very long, though. After she recorded these classic sides, she drifted back to country music in 1965 and stayed there until the ’80s. This probably had as much to do with her newfound Christian faith as a realization that she simply couldn’t maintain a long career in music by shredding her vocal cords every time she stepped up to the mic.

Wanda’s ambivalence is especially apparent on this tune from 1956, which gave her a unique opportunity to have it both ways: I Gotta Know

One of the best songs on the collection is a pop-flavored number from 1961 called Funnel of Love. Here Wanda shows a little more reach with some nice vocal flourishes – and it’s surprising that such an alluring tune didn’t do better on the charts: Funnel of Love

One of the special charms of “Queen of Rockabilly” is the almost off-handed approach to some of these sessions. It seems like Nelson seldom had anything specific in mind, other than turning Wanda loose with some of the best session players in the business – including A-list guitarists like Joe Maphis, Buck Owens and, later, Roy Clark. Here’s some nifty work by Maphis on Hot Dog! That Made Him Mad: Hot Dog! That Made Him Mad

Nelson also had Wanda cover some of the era’s rock ‘n roll hits. Are they essential remakes of the originals? Not really – except maybe Wanda’s version of Brown-Eyed Handsome Man, which almost outdoes Chuck Berry’s original by switching genders for a little added sex appeal. And on a few tunes, Nelson couldn’t resist those syrupy vocal choruses that the musicians union must have required at virtually every recording session back in the early Sixties. But there’s something to admire on every song, whether it’s the “good girl gone bad” appeal of Wanda’s voice or the country soul of Roy Clark’s guitar.

Wanda eventually made her way back to rockabilly in the Eighties, fueled by the enthusiasm of roots-music fanatics in Europe and the lasting appeal of whacked-out numbers like Fujiyama Mama, which made her a minor sensation in Japan – even with its politically incorrect references to the atom bomb: Fujiyama Mama

Maybe I should lower my expectations about the White-Wanda project… Then again, maybe Ace Records did Wanda a disservice by putting all those great rockabilly sides on one CD. Why play with sparklers when you’ve got enough fireworks to light up the whole sky?

Wanda today

Wanda on video… Here’s Wanda rippin’ up Hard Headed Woman. Not sure who the guitar player is (Joe Maphis?), but he’s a sumbitch.

A fine-lookin’ Wanda covers a country tune by Webb Pierce:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shad O'Shea

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

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

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

That Memphis Man…

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

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

Latter-day Lonnie

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

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

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

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

Lonnie and Stevie Ray

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The cover song is a proud musical tradition – and it dates back centuries. Let’s face it, many popular tunes and entire forms of music wouldn’t exist today without the act of appropriating someone else’s song.

Guitar hero Richard Thompson made this point in spades several years ago when he released a set of live recordings on his own boutique label that he only half-jokingly titled “1000 Years of Popular Music.” The CD kicks off with a 13^th Century “round” and eventually gets around to covering Oops!… I Did It Again by Britney Spears.

The cover song seemed to reach its peak, at least in terms of significance, in the 1940s and ‘50s. At that time, songs recorded by black R&B and blues artists were typically segregated onto so-called “race” labels – Modern, Aladdin, Savoy, etc. But some of those artists started covering songs by white honky tonkers – for example, Bull Moose Jackson’s Why Don’t You Haul Off and Love Me, a cover of a 1949 country hit by harmonica player Wayne Raney – and aspiring white rockers began perfecting their own form of musical thievery.

Of course, this whole cross-pollinating thing led to what may be the defining moment in 20^th Century music – Elvis Presley’s cover of a little ditty by Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup, That’s All Right Mama.

For the most part, the covers by white artists pale in comparison to the originals, but there are a few exceptions. Here’s the original version of The Train Kept A-Rollin’, by jump-blues bandleader Tiny Bradshaw: The Train Kept A-Rollin’ (Tiny Bradshaw)

Now here’s the cover by an especially dangerous rockabilly band from the Fifties, the Johnny Burnette Trio: The Train Kept A-Rollin’ (Johnny Burnette Trio)

Johnny Burnette Trio

I’d argue that the Trio kicked it up a notch or two, fueled by Johnny’s well-placed screams and Paul Burlison’s gut-bucket guitar. And I won’t even bother with the far more popular version by Aerosmith, which ranks a distant fourth in my book (a Columbus bar band came in third).

Quick aside about those screams: Apparently, Burlison liked to place his lit cigarette on the loose end of one of the strings sticking out from the head of his guitar. Band is tearing it up onstage… Johnny backs into the lit cigarette… screams bloody murder… crowd goes wild… rest is rockabilly history.

There are far more examples of definitive originals by black artists. If you’re only familiar with Elvis’ cover of Hound Dog, brace yourself… the original by Big Mama Thornton will make you forget all about The King’s version: Hound Dog

A mutant offspring of the cover is the “answer song,” which also peaked around the same time. It’s a fairly simple concept, and I’ll let this response to Big Mama’s Hound Dog speak for itself… Bear Cat

You get the idea… The accuser is Rufus Thomas, who was a mainstay on Memphis’ fabled Stax-Volt label throughout its glory years. Here’s another answer song from the label’s catalog, with Jeanne & the Darlings take on Sam & Dave… Soul Girl

The Rolling Stones started out as little more than a decent cover band, doing their own versions of Chicago blues standards. Here they put their stamp on a classic by Muddy Waters… I Just Want To Make Love To You

The Beatles also cranked out more than a few covers, including a version of this original by soul singer Arthur Alexander, who was one of John Lennon’s favorites (he reportedly had a jukebox that only played Alexander’s 45s)… Anna (Go To Him)

Alexander also was covered by the Stones (You Better Move On) and spent years in obscurity before he was rediscovered in Cleveland, driving a school bus. He put out a strong comeback album – “Lonely Just Like Me” – before passing away in 1993.

Today, it seems like indie rockers, hip-hoppers and country hit-makers are lined up to pay tribute to anyone from Marvin Gaye to the Grateful Dead. But much of those tribute songs are totally unnecessary and only serve to send the listeners back to the originals. A few rise above the fray, like Bob Dylan’s cover of a Hank Williams tune from the 2002 Grammy-winning tribute, “Timeless.” Now I’ll just come out and admit that I’m not a big fan of Dylan’s recent vocal stylings (he makes Billie Holiday’s final performances sound too polished). But I like how he wheezes his way through this one (great phrasing) as his ace band drags Hank into a west Texas dance hall… I Can’t Get You Off Of My Mind

During the summer months, you can’t miss the steady parade of tribute bands coming to an ampitheater near you – covering well-worn songs by the Beatles, the Stones, the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac… even U2 and the Dave Matthews Band. These bands take boomers back to days when they could get a contact high at most rock concerts (although that tradition seems to live on at jam-band shows).

But that’s not quite the same as musicians trying to reinvent the songs they love… and maybe even create something a little better (or at least different) in the process.

Oh, and if you’re still wondering what Richard Thompson did with Britney Spears… Oops!… I Did It Again

A few favorite covers…

Actually, just picking the right song to cover is a creative process that can say a lot about a band or musician. Here are a few covers that head off in different directions from the originals.

Let’s start with the oldest – Milk Cow Blues. Kokomo Arnold recorded the original back in 1930, and it’s one of those tunes that country musicians pounced on right away, probably because of the lyrics. It’s been covered by many artists – Robert Johnson (as Milkcow’s Calf Blues), Elvis at Sun Studios (as Milkcow Blues Boogie), Willie Nelson, Ricky Nelson, the band Nelson (strike that last one)… but my favorite is a western swing version from 1941 by Johnnie Lee Wills, brother of Texas legend Bob. Back then, it was a much shorter walk from blues to country, and Wills’ singer barely takes a step. He’s Cotton Thompson, a long-forgotten fiddle player (the world’s first blue-eyed soul singer?). Kokomo’s original comes first, then the cover.Milk Cow Blues (Kokomo Arnold/Johnnie Lee Wills)

The title of Young Man’s Blues is a little misleading, because neither of the following two versions falls neatly into the blues category. The originator is Mose Allison, really a jazz guy who played a lot of blues-based songs, and a keen observer of the human condition. The imitator is The Who, from the 1970 album Live at Leeds. Now I’m not a huge fan of everything The Who put out, but I like how they reworked the original – transforming it from a laid-back lament into a defiant rocker… Roger Daltrey is one pissed-off young man!Young Man’s Blues (Mose Allison/The Who)

Johnny Cash has been covered by hundreds of musicians of every stripe – roots-rockers, hillbillies, punks, metalheads… And roots-music explorer Ry Cooder has made an entire career out of reinventing other people’s songs. This next one is the flip side of The Who’s approach – Cooder takes Cash’s signature “Tennessee Three” treatment and slows it down… and in the process, turns it into something far more ominous (we’re not quite sure where this train is heading). I especially like the instrumentation on this cover – just mandolin, piano (the late Jim Dickinson, a Memphis icon) and upright bass.Hey Porter (Johnny Cash/Ry Cooder)

If their recent reissues proved anything, the Beatles are an even bigger draw today than they were back in 1964. But their songs haven’t been covered by other artists as much as you might think. Could be that the Beatles catalog is considered sacred canon by many musicians – or maybe it’s just too damn hard to improve on the originals. But that didn’t scare off The Holmes Brothers, who have developed a strong following with their unique brand of gospel-infused R&B. This one knocks me out every time I hear it – a soulful take on an old Beatles favorite.And I Love Her (The Beatles/The Holmes Brothers)

Musicians seem to have an easier time covering Dylan… might have something to do with the demo-like quality of albums like “The Basement Tapes” with The Band, which gave us the original version of Going to Acapulco. The cover shows up 40 years later on the soundtrack to “I’m Not There” – a surreal look at various incarnations of Dylan throughout his career. I was unimpressed with most of the soundtrack, but this one stands out as the Tucson band Calexico paints a desert soundscape behind the stunning voice of Jim James (My Morning Jacket). Better than the original? You be the judge.Going to Acapulco (Bob Dylan/Jim James & Calexico)