Howlin' Wolf, Chuck Berry, and $$$

Not too long ago I read a book about Howlin’ Wolf called “Moanin’ at Midnight: The Life and Times of Howlin’ Wolf” by James Segrest and Mark Hoffman. Wolf is a fascinating character—first and foremost because of his voice and his music, but also because of his contradictions. He’s said once to have chopped the top of a man’s head off with a cotton hoe; on the other hand, he’s almost universally acknowledged to be a fatherly figure and gentleman. On stage he was a wild man, crawling on all fours, dragging his “tail” to erase any tracks from his creeping; off stage, he was a quiet family man, with only occasional resort to the gun or knife.


Once, while reading B. B. King’s autobiography, I wrote about similarities between King and Chuck Berry. There were a lot of them.  (Read it HERE.)

Not quite so many between Berry and Wolf—but they exist. For example, while both men are renowned entertainers, hard working and happy to mug it up on stage, both are also known to be reserved off stage.

They both were annoyed by band members drinking.

Both were professional and on time for their gigs.

Both worked continually on self improvement and continuing education. Berry used different jail terms to study business and typing and to write his book. Wolfe learned to read and write as an established star, and took mid-career classes in guitar and music theory.

Both worked at Chess Records, sharing backup musicians like Willie Dixon, Lafayette Leake, Otis Spann, and once, even Hubert Sumlin (who backed Berry on “School Day” and “Deep Feeling.”

But the most important commonality that I see has to do with money.

I’ve seen and read dozens of references about Chuck Berry and money over the years. That he insisted on cash up front. That he demanded cash. That he charged extra if a promoter provided the wrong amp. That he insisted on cash in advance during “Hail! Hail!” Some of the comments are snide—insisting that money is all he cares about.

Chuck Berry talks about money himself in “Hail! Hail” He remembers his pay at early engagements before Maybellene. He remembers how much he was paid for a paint job at The Cosmopolitan Club and then says “When the money got bigger, I put the paint brush down and picked the pick up!” He offers to sell his old Cadillacs, to YOU, for 50,000 dollars!

I remember as a young man considering with fear a statement he made in the 1960s to Ralph Gleason that he would never perform for less than $1000—and that if some “pumk promoter” offered him $950 he’d tell him “Son, you’ve just retired the great Chuck Berry.”

I had an irrational fear I would become that punk!

At least one musician in “Moanin’” said the same about Wolf. “He was mostly about money,” the musician is quoted as saying. “He conserved his money and he was always singing about money…. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him broke… He really was into that money thing and he had some money!”

But what’s important to me is that these two actually protected their own financial interests—and by extension the interests of those around them.

Wolf insisted on following the rules of the musicians’ union. Once Elmore James put his name on a poster without permission. Wolf made James pay him $25.

Wolf paid his musicians’ taxes, social security and unemployment insurance—all unheard of in the blues world of the 1950s. When he fired a musician, or there wasn’t work, that musician could still get a check. When the musician retired, he’d get a social security check.

Chuck Berry insists on getting paid up front because he knows that otherwise he might not get paid at all. He insists on union musicians. He insists on proper equipment. He shows up on time and does his job. He’s done that professionally for six decades now and as a result he is an immensely wealthy man. He owns property all over the St. Louis area.

His musicians say they are treated well—paid what they are owed, lodged at nice hotels, sometimes flown first class.

And he fought for the rights to his own songs.

In other words, Wolf and Berry, entertainers and sometimes clowns on stage, are and were serious business people, who insisted on being treated with respect, dignity and fairness in the financial rough and tumble of the music business.

It’s just another area where they deserve respect and thanks.

A Christmas Tale! Omar Sharriff

Wow-- once in a while the world takes a step forward.  Here's a great story about boogie-woogie and blues piano great Omar Sharriff (formerly Dave Alexander) being welcomed home to his hometown of Marshall, Texas.  They want him back bad!  Check it out HERE!

Adjoa, by the Super Sweet Talks

Decades ago in West africa this song would wake the dead.  Or anyway, wake drunks sleeping in a bar, and everyone else within earshot, causing them to break into dance.  I love that someone resurrected it as a tribute to Ghana's World Cup team.

Jesse Edwin Davis

Jesse Edwin Davis is a favorite musician that I know almost nothing about.  I have two records that feature him: TaJ Mahal's first album, and the second, entitled "Take a Giant Step."  Having struggled at various times to learn some slide guitar I read with profound jealousy once that Davis first played slide for the album "Taj Mahal."  (That sort of talent is alarming.)

Here he is, first day on slide (or so the story goes, and I like the story) playing a version of "Statesboro Blues" that was later copied by the Allman Brothers Band.  (They didn't even come close.)



I remember Davis as a charming figure in "The Concert for Bangladesh," which he evidently inserted himself into when some more famous guitarist failed to show.  But Davis was famous among the famous-- a star among stars.  Recently I saw a short news feature about a fabulous collection of photographs and snapshots of rock and roll royalty-- Beatles and Stones and the like, caught at parties, at the beach, hanging round.  A beautiful middle aged woman was showing the photographs that had been her private collection.  And standing or sitting next to all of those legends?  Jesse Edwin Davis.  It turned out that the woman was his old girlfriend.

But the real beauty of the man was his guitar playing.  Check out my favorite bits from Taj Mahal's version of "Six Days on the Road."



Turns out that I am far from the only one to admire Davis's guitar in this song.  While looking for video of Davis himself playing, I stumbled into this beautiful deconstruction of his introduction to the song.



I barely know the man, of course-- just a few albums, a few movies, a few youtube tidbits.  Taj Mahal knew him.



Check out the Taj Mahal group (with Jesse sounding like Hubert Sumlin) in this beauty:

Utah Phillips

This is not a site I take proper care of.  Ah well.  But I was inspired a few weeks ago by a facebook post by Florida songwriter Ronnie Elliott.  He put up an interview with one of my old favorites, Utah Phillips.

I only saw Phillips once or twice, as I recall.  The first and most memorable was in some sort of nightspot out in the tomato fields west of Sacramento.  I don't recall too much about the place except that it was built mostly of corrugated iron, perhaps from an old barn or agricultural building, and it must have accepted minors, because I was one.  It had to be about 1976, and I think I had just learned about Phillips in a class I was taking about country western songs.  (Utah Phillips doesn't qualify, but close enough.  I didn't do much in school that year, but I guess I learned something, anyway.)  The teacher wrote songs himself, and played us "Starlight on the Rails," a song Phillips sang but didn't write.

Here's a version by Rosalie Sorrells.



According to Utah Phillips dust jacket the song was written by Louise Scruggs.  It was about perfect for me at the time, pulling paragraphs from Thomas Wolfe, the writer all young men read.  But there's something about a Utah Phillips performance.  Check this one out, pulled out at random:



Utah Phillips was a Wobblie, a great storyteller, great songwriter, and unabashed and inspiring radical.  He also told a good story.  I haven't heard this one before, but I trust it will be good.



He was also a wise man.  Here he talks about his songs, and about making a living instead of a killing.  (This is the one Ronnie Elliott posted.  I thank him for it, and for making me think about looking up Utah Phillips on youtube.)

My Horoscope Told Me

... to listen to this West African blues from the group Tinariwen.  (Free Will Astrology-- always worth a consult!) 

I remember walking through the market in Lome decades ago and hearing music that sounded like Lightnin' Hopkins.  The world's an amazing place.

Satisfied in Seattle: Annieville Blues at Bad Albert's

Annieville Blues with Charles Brown

The more you dig, the more you find. A few weeks ago I went to Port Townsend, Washington to hear Daryl Davis, the great boogie woogie and blues piano player who, since 1983, has often backed Chuck Berry in concert. You can read about my trip HERE. Trips like that always have a bonus or two, and this one had many, not least of which was to learn about our Seattle home town boogie woogie and blues pianist Annieville Blues.   (Check out her website HERE).  The night I saw Daryl Davis, Annieville opened, along with a variety of talented friends and guests—but the performance was tarnished by a drummer without a rhythm. (I’ve seen this phenomenon twice recently. It is truly jarring. Makes you wince. How a drummer reaches middle age without a beat is a question!)


Anyway, back in Seattle I was happy to learn that Annieville makes regular appearances at a little bar/diner called Bad Albert’s in Seattle’s Ballard Neighborhood. If you don’t know Seattle, Ballard is a cool neighborhood for people who like music and food. Seattle’s best Mexican restaurant is there (La Carta de Oaxaca) and there are dozens more, along with half a dozen small bars with music.

Bad Albert’s serves giant good burgers and lots of fries and cheap drinks; and hey—there’s no cover on alternate Thursdays when Annieville plays with a guest.  http://www.badalberts.com/

My wife and I arrived during her first set, and the first several songs were wrecked by four yammering, yaking, oblivious guys seated immediately in front of the piano. (I was beginning to think I was cursed never to hear the woman play without some terrible distraction). But eventually they left, and we got to hear the piano.

I didn’t go to “review” the show, and don’t intend to. I went to enjoy the music, and intend to do so again. Annieville played an electric keyboard. I got to hear “Papa’s on the Rooftop,” which she played in Port Townsend, but this time without the distraction of the beatless drummer. She did a Jimmy Smith tune. Then she teamed up with her guest Jack Cook to do one of Cook’s orginals—a blues about the Columbia River and Hoover dam. (Cook said it was the only song he knew that mentioned Chinook, Washington, but I remember it for the line about Hoover turning current into currency.) They closed with Professor Longhair’s “Big Chief.”

Given my musical interests, I should have known about Seattle’s Annieville Blues a long time ago. Check out her website: pictures of Annieville with legends like Charles Brown, Dr. John, Pinetop Perkins and Johnnny Johnson.  Same with Cook—a guitarist, slide player, blogger, and musical curator of little known songs from the 20s to the 60s. His website is HERE, and includes some great stuff about well known and lesser known blues artists that he met on is “Blues Adventures” in the 1970s. 

Annieville and Cook have both been playing the blues for more than three decades. 
In my old age I intend to learn more about the music I’ve loved all my life.  It is cool to know that there’s so much music, musical wisom and blues history available right here in Seattle. And I get the feeling I’m only scratching the surface.

(On September 19, Anniville will perform at Bad Albert's with her friend Mark DuFresne.  Here they are at a party I think I might have enjoyed!)