Part Four: The Blues Roll On
THE HOWLIN’ WOLF
“How Many More Years”
What can I say? The single greatest performance of all time on TV. Well, The Wire could probably give it a pretty good run for the money – and you could always argue it’s a different genre. But where else are you going to find such profundity, humor, intensity, showmanship, ferocity, and flair, all in a single package? “How Many More Years” was Wolf’s very first release, recorded by Sam Phillips in the summer of 1951 and put out by Chess Records in the fall, with “Moanin’ at Midnight” as the B-side. I don’t know that there’s ever been a greater single (don’t let me be accused of understatement here). Sam Phillips always said that of all the artists he ever recorded the Wolf and Charlie Rich were the most profound – they were the ones he would have most liked to have worked with until the day he died. Well, here’s why.
OTIS SPANN: Blues Is a Man’s Best Friend
“Ain’t Nobody’s Business”
Spann was the blues pianist’s blues pianist – not to mention his “brother” Muddy Waters’ stalwart accompanist from early on. No one outside of Big Maceo comes close to offering the same combination of wistfulness, delicacy, and rhythmic drive. The Canadian compere speaks of his “hazy” sound, but I think haunting would be more like it, as Spann gives his dramatic all to an old standard, conveying the leave-me-alone message with sweetness, sincerity, and a kind of indomitable joy (the paradoxical pull of the blues), even at its most dismayingly bloodthirsty moments.
BIG JOE TURNER: Big Joe Rides On
“Shake, Rattle and Roll”
Speaking of joy, I think everything about this video suggests it, from MC Willie Bryant’s hepcat intro to Big Joe’s suave-walking entrance (speaking of which watch Bryant’s more than equally suave exit), to the song itself (which could in many ways be considered the first rock anthem) to its performance, complete with cool finger-snapping, circular hand motions, chanted encouragement to the soloists, improvised lyrics – above all THAT VOICE, which never needed a microphone to get across. Whew, that’s a long sentence. You can have your Django Unchained (not that there’s anything wrong with that) – this is all-out, unchained exuberance. When I spoke with Joe, his pianist was the great Lloyd Glenn, who, you may remember, shows up in the earlier T-Bone-B.B. duet, and he took a lively and informed part in our conversation. In fact, I was almost as knocked out by Lloyd as I was by Joe. “Do you understand this man?” Lloyd challenged me. “He’s telling you, in song, his life. That’s the subject. He’s just not going into detail about what’s going on in his life. That’s it.” And it was.
Two footnotes. When I met Ray Charles a couple of years later – well, I should start by saying that Lloyd was the headliner the first time Ray went out on the road, while he was still living in Seattle. Anyway, when I mentioned Lloyd to Ray, he was so excited to hear about him (and to get Lloyd’s phone number) that for a while I thought it might totally derail our conversation. It didn’t – but in the process I got to learn a lot more about Lloyd!
Second footnote. I took Sleepy LaBeef to see Big Joe at Sandy’s in Beverly, I’m not sure if it was at this time or a little later. I don’t think I have to point out that it was Joe’s big-voiced (huge-voiced) stentorian style that provided Sleepy with a model, but Sleepy had never seen him in person before. It was pretty cool.
JUKE JOINT BLUES: Chicago, 1977
You know, I think this collage chapter is best served by a video collage of great performances that will simply induce you to go looking for more.
Jimmy Johnson: “As The Years Go Passing By”
How soulful is this? By one of the most underrated, incisive, and to-the-point blues singers of his generation. Jimmy is Syl Johnson’s (“Take Me to the River,” “Is It Because I’m Black?”) brother (also bass player Mac Thompson’s). Here he is performing a classic number by Fenton Robinson, another underrated, and woefully neglected, great.
Hound Dog Taylor: “Wild About You Baby”
Two versions of the same song, the earlier one showing Hound Dog in his more formal, polite, Elmore-emulating style – but elevated by the presence of Little Walter (in a rare video appearance, just a year or so before his death) on harp. The second is truer – it’s very true – to the completely untrammeled, freeform Hound Dog I encountered at his regular Sunday-afternoon gig at Florence’s in the company of Bruce Iglauer, who was just about to sign Hound Dog to his soon-to-be-born Alligator label.
Magic Sam: “All Of Your Love,” plus “Lookin’ Good” (well, Instrumental Boogie anyway)
I don’t think any of his contemporaries got so close to the bone. I can’t imagine any greater intensity than you get out of the combination of Magic Sam’s wailing, vibrato-laden voice, a borrowed guitar, and the beat! the beat! the beat! – which none of his West Side confreres, including Buddy Guy, could ever quite match. Check out West Side Soul (Delmark DD-615) if you haven’t already. It’s one of the cornerstones of modern Chicago Blues and a tantalizing reminder of just how much more Sam Maghett might have had to contribute if he hadn’t died at the tragically early age of 32.
Junior Wells and Buddy Guy: “Just to Be With You”
(this video can’t be embedded, but you can link to youtube above)
Here we are back at Theresa’s on a night like many nights – you never knew exactly what was going to happen or where the improvisational music and lyrics might take you. Here we encounter an improbably but not atypically coutured Junior singing the Muddy Waters hit with all of his usual extravagance and braggadocio – but for all of the affectations, I go back to my original question: how soulful is this? Dig Buddy’s sparely interjected guitar (not to mention Junior’s supremely unaffected harp) – it’s so surprising, it’s the kind of thing that just doesn’t exist any more for – of all things (and, of course, all grimaces aside, facial, vocal, and cinematic) – its paradoxical sense of musical restraint.