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Post by muddylives on Jan 20, 2013 11:54:05 GMT -5
Both new Buddy Guy releases.... Live at Legends and the studio album ALWAYS A HUGE BUDDY FAN....BUDDY n HUNERT N MUDDY waters were threeeof my favorite EARLY ELECTRIC BLUES players. I think when ya rank blues guitarists it would not be fair to ask for one but one in each category JAMES The new Live at Legends (circa 2012) has gotten some unfavorable reviews. Seems they mislead you with "Live" at Legends but contain a lot of studio tracks. Also, the sound quality isn't great. Is it really worth buying? My opinion - the sound is not a problem, but I don't find the blues content of the live show to be very deep. The three studio tracks, which come from the same session as the last album (Living Proof) are actually the highlight of the record. I would classify this as one of the lesser Buddy Guy albums.
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Post by AlanB on Jan 24, 2013 6:55:30 GMT -5
The review which follows (Black Echoes, April 1978) is no word of a lie, I attended, and can still hear in my head the relentless request for 'Rocking Pneumonia' which rose in pitch as each song finished. Somebody yelled "He's not Huey Smith, you moron".
The previous evening Longhair performed at a "press reception" organised by Harvest Records at Ronnie Scott's club where the audience were more appreciative and considerate.
Anyone have experience of such a turn of events during/after a gig?
Longhair vs Loudmouths PROFESSOR LONGHAIR: New London Theatre, 26:3:78. Clive Richardson
THE AUDITORIUM was damn near full testimony to media pulling-power (full page ads from Harvest Records throughout the music press) and to being a trendy living legend with McCartney money behind you.
It's doubtful if many of the audience could have known what 'Fess was playing had he not obligingly announced each number until the ad-lib sequence came, and they duly proved their mass ignorance as the performance proceeded.
Longhair shuffled almost painfully onstage with the aid of a stick and the arm of promoter John Stedman's petite, pretty wife to take his seat at the Steinway Grand (not a lot of those in N.O. dives!) with his conga accompanist close behind. 'Doin' It' was announced as the opener, as easy tempo instrumental workout to display the man's dexterous keyboard ability from the outset, followed by a similar competent version of Sonny Thompson's 1948 million seller, the moody 'Long Gone'.
'Mess Around' was next, introducing the first vocal of the night, thence into the mainstream of 'Fess's stylised vintage gems including 'Mardi Gras In New Orleans' (with the added spectacle of briefly parading dancers clad in festival attire), 'Tipitina' and 'Big Chief', each drawing applause from the audience for thumping key-changes which the more subtle dexterity of the man's flowing right-hand work passed them by. By now the loudmouths were shouting for their 'favourites', Longhair obliging with 'She Ain't Got No Hair', aided by audience responses of 'Baldhead ' before easing down into the hackneyed, recently adopted 'Every Day I Have The Blues'.
The tempo and style then moved into mainstream Domino territory to the pleasure of the masses but at the expense of keyboard finesse, 'Don't Lie To Me' metamorphosing into 'Sick & Tired' before some jerk screamed out 'Rocking Pneumonia’ for the 'n'th time, so audible that 'Fess had little choice but to oblige (well it's a New Orleans song innit?).
He launched into a characterless instrumental finale, heavy-handed and obviously tired, to be accorded a standing ovation and cries of 'more' as he made his way offstage with some assistance. So more he came and delivered, thumping out a tune with passing resemblance to 'Knees Up Mother Brown' before departing for a deserved rest, having accommodated the base taste of the audience.
They were not satisfied however, trendies obviously being accustomed to perpetual encores from their hyped idols (idles?) and when John Stedman tried to tell them there was no more, the air was heavy with catcalls and jeers of 'rip-off, effing con', 'fiddle' ad nauseum.
A sad end to a gig that slid slowly downhill. Good riddance to the trendies—maybe Blues acts should be left to play to audiences who know what they're listening to.
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Post by AlanB on Jan 25, 2013 7:34:51 GMT -5
Further to the Fess review I've discovered that this is still in my possession. Attachments:
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Post by AlanB on Jan 25, 2013 7:37:04 GMT -5
and this too...never throw anything out that's me...wonder what else is lurking? Attachments:
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Post by Admin on Jan 25, 2013 9:44:54 GMT -5
Those are some great momentos Alan. I'm glad you kept these and shared with us.
Thanks.
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Post by AlanB on Jan 25, 2013 10:17:13 GMT -5
Those are some great momentos Alan. I'm glad you kept these and shared with us. Thanks. It amazing to reflect that Bill Millar (a Brit) was mentioning in an English magazine (Soul Music Monthly, Jan 1967) about a "little known" New Orleans pianist, Professor Longhair, whom somebody should bring to Britain. He wrote, "If Clarence Frogman Henry can visit these shores, why not Longhair?" Eleven years later he made it, at the behest of - Macca!
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Post by Admin on Jan 26, 2013 10:56:45 GMT -5
Beginning the study into Muddy - Early Years. Review by Hal Horowitz - AllMusic Like the Bear Family sets that include every available recording of an artist, this two-disc collection finally presents every known track Muddy Waters recorded for the Aristocrat and Chess labels from 1947 to 1952. Since Waters was such a vital architect of the Chicago blues sound, it's an indispensable historical and educational document, as well as a wonderful listening experience. The mono sound, remastered in 2000, is clean, crisp, and remarkably vibrant considering the age of these masters, and the liner notes, pictures, and track documentation in the 16-page booklet are enlightening, professional, and complete. Brought to Aristocrat's attention by Sunnyland Slim who accompanies Waters on the earliest sides here, Muddy quickly established himself as an important and talented artist in his own right. Even the first recordings from 1947 show the guitarist/vocalist/songwriter as confident, mature, and, above all, driven, with his songs focused and tightly constructed. The majority of the tracks on disc one feature Waters with accompaniment from only bassist Earnest "Big" Crawford and prove what an astonishingly inventive slide guitarist Muddy was, even at this fresh-faced stage in his career. Little Walter adds his distinctive harp to increase the band to a trio, but percussion doesn't appear until about three-quarters through this album when Leonard Chess beats a rudimentary bass drum on four songs recorded in July 1951. Although many of Waters' signature tunes including "Got My Mojo Workin'," "Hootchie Cootchie Man," and "I'm Ready" were recorded after the five years covered on these discs, this set is not for completists only. The bluesman's work here is as vital as on those hits, and even the most obscure tracks trace the formation of the Chicago sound that revolutionized blues and even pop music. Muddy's version of "All Night Long" was a blueprint for B.B. King's "Rock Me Baby" and classics like "Honey Bee," "Rollin' and Tumblin'," and "I Can't Be Satisfied" are essential to any blues collection. Those unfamiliar with Muddy Waters' work should still start with the crucial three-disc Chess Box, but this double album shouldn't be far behind. Not just an essential historical record of an artist and genre, these are some of the most seminal and inspired blues performances ever recorded.
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Post by Admin on Jan 26, 2013 12:20:39 GMT -5
Liner Notes: Chess Blues MCA/Chess CHD4 -9340 “Even before the Macambo, when I was in the service, Leonard had a bar at 47th and Evans, The L&L Café, and he had blues guys playing there…You had to get acclimated to what was going on in the community, and blues was the thing. This was where all the blacks from the South were migrating to, and on the radio, in the bars, blues were what was popular…You know, Sunnyland Slim brought Muddy in; Muddy brought in Little Walter, Jimmy Rogers, and Big Crawford and it grew from there … Leonard’s partners in Aristocrat were recording the white popular music, and that stopped when we bought them out. Besides, we didn’t know the first thing about the white stuff. I mean, ‘Get on the ball, Paul,’ what does that mean?”
– Phil Chess, 1992
* * * * *
“As a kid [going to Chess blues sessions], I wouldn’t know what they were singing about, but the emotion was so contagious, I too would feel the blues – not unhappy blues, I wouldn’t leave the room because of it. The blues sessions simply had a feeling unto themselves, as did the rock ‘n’ roll ones. And when the masters – Muddy, the Wolf, Walter – played the blues, everyone felt the blues, even a little kid.”
- Marshall Chess, 1992 ___________________________________________________________________ Two small boys named Leonard and Philip Chez, ages eleven and six, arrived at Ellis Island on Columbus Day 1928 in the company of their mother and sister and several hundred other immigrants from their small native village near Pinsk in Poland. Sons of a carpenter father who worked the night shift in a scrap yard, the young Chez children (whose family name was Americanized to Chess shortly after their arrival) were sent to the local public schools on the South Side of Chicago. They quickly picked up their new language on the rough-and-tumble streets, and their childhood address, 1425 South Karlov Avenue, would later provide the sentimental start up catalogue number, 1425, for the first Chess Records release. Once out of school, Phil went into the Army for World War II, though Leonard’s childhood case of polio had left him with a limp that rendered him ineligible for active service. While Phil was away, Leonard dabbled in several business ventures ranging from his father’s junkyard to a couple of bars and liquor stores. It was from these last that he made the fateful transition to nightclub owner, which would eventually result in his involvement in the Aristocrat (later Chess) record label. After a couple of failures (“real lowlife dives,” Leonard’s son Marshall was later to remember), Leonard came into possession of his most successful nightclub, the comparatively upscale Macomba Lounge, located at 39th and Cottage Grove. Major jazz and blues stars played there, including Billy Eckstine and Ella Fitzgerald; the size of the crowds made Leonard wonder why there were so few recording possibilities in the area. With a partner, a woman named Evelyn, Leonard Chess entered the recording business in 1947 by buying into a small local label called Aristocrat Records. At first he had no facilities of his own, so he rented studio time at Bernie Clapper’s Universal Recording Service at 20 North Wacker Drive. Some of the early Aristocrat releases, like those of Tom Archia, Jump Jackson’ Orchestra, The Five Blazes, Sherman Hayes Orchestra, and the Macomba’s house vocalist Andrew Tibbs, were more pop and jazz than blues, as Leonard was wide open and willing to record anything he though might sell. And that first tentative year of operation did produce enough sales to justify continuing the experiment, for by August 30, 1947, Billboard was running a plug for forthcoming Aristocrat released by the Dozier Boys. Leonard’s method of distributing the records was the time-honored one of that era: leaving Phil to oversee both the nightclub and recording business, he’d load up his car and drive to every radio station within a thousand miles, passing out promotional 78s, taking notes of local talent for possible future recording, and passing out something else, too; Chess Records was the only label ever to deduct payola as a legitimate business expense. In 1969, Leonard told the Chicago Tribune: “Payola was standard practice…at least I was doing it honestly. Make a deal, send ‘em a check, and at the end of the year report it [to the I.R.S.] on a 1099 form.” It wasn’t long before blues session became a regular part of Aristocrat’s output. Black people were leaving the South in droves, heading North to Chicago and its promise of more and better-paying jobs; when they got there, they were frequently homesick, and Leonard was sure that they’d buy recordings of their “down-home” music. I think it would be fair to say that in those early days the Aristocrat record numbering system was wildly eccentric. In the beginning they seemed to assign a different starting number to each artist, though shortly before the label was dissolved they did finally settle down to a fairly consistent 400 series. _________________________________________________ THIS TWENTY-ONE-YEAR PERIOD in the history of Aristocrat and Chess Records was the most important era in the history of urban Chicago blues. During the years between 1947 and 1967 a musical style was born, wretched out of the Delta by Muddy Waters and his contemporaries; it grew to its astonishing and highly influential maturity, sent out musical seed pods that would land in fertile ground all over America and as far away as England, and by the end of this period was all but moribund. After Leonard Chess' death of a heart attack in 1969, the label was sold to GRT, a company that manufactured cassette tapes. Under Leonard's son Marshall Chess, GRT's version of the label tried desperately to keep up with the popular music world, and the blues sessions were scheduled further and further apart. In 1975 GRT sold the Chess catalog to All Platinum, who stopped all new recordings and turned Chess into a reissue-only label. In the early Eighties the catalog changed hands yet again, and further reissues were put out by Sugar Hill Records.
The acquisition of the complete Chess catalog by MCA in 1985 has led finally to a long overdue, careful and systematic reissue program, making the best of the Chicago blues available after a long hiatus. This, combined with the recent resurgence of interest in blues in general and Chicago blues in particular, ensures that future generations of music aficionados will have a chance to listen to and learn from the masters.
– Mary Katherine Aldin, August, 1992 __________________________________________________ “When I die, they’ll say, ‘He couldn’t play shit, but he sure made it sound good!’”
– Hound Dog Taylor __________________________________________________ All tracks recorded in Chicago unless indicated otherwise
All Chicago recordings produced by Leonard and Phil Chess and Willie Dixon
All Memphis recordings produced by Sam Phillips; St. Louis recordings produced by Oliver Sain; ''I'd Rather Go Blind" produced by Rick Hall and staff.
"Chess Blues" produced by Andy McKaie Associate Producer: Mary Katherine Aldin Compiled by Mary Katherine Aldin and Andy McKaie
Digitally remastered from original Aristocrat and Chess masters and disc transfers and new disc transfers and newly mixed masters by Erick Labson, MCA Studios, North Hollywood, California. Assembled by Robert Stoughton.
"My Head Can't Rest Anymore," "Dr. Ross' Boogie," "Getting Old And Grey," "Truckin' Little Woman," and "Got My Mojo Working" transferred from original Aristocrat and Chess 78s and 45s by Steven Lasker. "Florida Hurricane" and "Memory Of Sonny Boy" transferred from original Aristocrat 78 rpms by Chris Strachwitz. "Going Down Slow" remixed from original Chess 4-track by Bill Inglot with John Strother, Penguin Studios, Eagle Rock, California. "The Shakedown" remixed from original Chess 4-track by John Strother and Andy McKaie, Penguin Studios
Art Direction: Vartan Design: Michael Diehl
Photography: Marcus Tate: Suitcase, Record Sleeve, Booklet Cover; CBC TV Photo: 13, 20-21, 44; Ray Flerlage, courtesy Michael Ochs Archives: 14; Doug Fulton: 35; Hooks Bros., courtesy Michael Ochs Archives/Memphis Music and Blues Museum: 25 (Memphis Minnie), 61; Brian Smith: 18 (both), 23, 26, 38, 46, 47, 49, 56; Jim O'Neal: 59; John Rockwood: 40-41; Valerie Wilmer: 2, 22, 25 (John Lee Hooker), 52 (Albert King)
Ads (pages 24, 62): from History of Rhythm and Blues, Volume 2, 1952, compiled and edited by Galen Gart .
Photo Courtesies: Mary Katherine Aldin: 12, 32 (Henry Gray), 45, 58; LaMarr Chatman/Jim O'Neal: 30; Marshall and Phil Chess: 8; Manny Greenhill: 13, 20-21, 44; Big Jim Gregory, Mike Rowe and Jim O'Neal: 52; Michael Ochs Archives: 31 (both), 43, 48, 51; Jim O'Neal: 10;'Jim O'Neal/Living Blues: 54; Snooky Pryor/Jim O'Neal: 19; Richie Reicheg: 11, 37
Remainder of photos from the Chess files
Recording dates and personnel culled from: Chess Blues: A Discography of the Blues Artists on the Chess Labels 1947-1975 by Les Fancourt; The Chess Labels – A Discography, Vols. One and Two by Michel Ruppli; Blues Records, Volumes One and Two by Mike Leadbitter and Neil Slaven; original tape boxes and sessions annotations; and the Chess files. This compilation is dedicated to the memory of Willie James Dixon, 1915-1992.
Special acknowledgement to the late Chess engineer Ron Malo (I935 to 1992) who passed shortly after his interview for this set.
Special thanks to Phil Chess. Thanks to: Josh Aldin, Tom Ball, Bruce Bastin, Keith Briggs, Marshall Chess, Marie Dixon, Lowell Fulson, Manny Greenhill, Peter Grendysa, Buddy Guy, Barry Hansen, Jeffrey Hersh, John Lee Hooker, Cilla Huggins, Mark A. Humphrey, Bruce Iglauer, Bill Inglot, Zaven Jambazian, Mike Kappus, Bruce Resnikoff, Barbara Kauffman, Dick La Palm, Steven Lasker, Donna Malo, Jim O'Neal, Frank Scott. Neil Slaven, Chris Strachwitz, John Strother, and Randy Aronson and everybody in the MCA vault.
CHD/C 4-9340 © (P) 1992 MCA Records, Inc. Universal City, California 91608 USA Distributed by Uni Distribution Corp. WARNING: All rights reserved. Unauthorized duplication is a violation of applicable laws.
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Post by Admin on Jan 26, 2013 14:19:10 GMT -5
This is a great compilation of Skip James music that supposedly has never been released until now. I enjoy the album very much, Skip is a master of the Delta Blues in a haunting falsetto voice. The music is soulfull and presented in a way that can only be acheived by Skip. My one dissappointment was that I didn't hear much of his wonderful guitar work on this release. It is primarily a piano album. The recording quality is pretty good for that era, though not up to todays standards.
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Post by Admin on Jan 30, 2013 17:06:30 GMT -5
Sam "Lightning" Hopkins - Autobiography in blues Just Lighting and his acoustic guitar. This is one of the most powerful, touching blues albums I've ever had the pleasure of listening to. If you don't have this one, I highly recommend.
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Post by AlanB on Jan 31, 2013 3:11:45 GMT -5
Sam "Lightning" Hopkins - Autobiography in blues If you don't have this one, I highly recommend. This was the second LP issued of Mack McCormick's "rediscovery" sessions, released in late 1960. Recorded February 16 and 26, 1959. Houston, TX The first Hopkins "rediscovery" release was this, in mid 1960: Country Blues Tradition LP 1035 Recorded February 16 and 26, 1959. Houston, TX. Vocal/acoustic guitar. Luke "Long Gone" Miles, vocal assistance. Long Time Rainy Day Blues Baby! Long Gone Like a Turkey Thru the Corn (Long John)[sic] Prison Blues Come Down on Me Backwater Blues (That Mean Old Twister) Gonna Pull a Party Bluebird, Bluebird See See Rider Worrying My Mind Till the Gin Gets Here Bunion Stew You Got to Work to Get Your Pay Go Down Old Hannah Hear My Black Dog Bark McCormick recorded quite a substantial quantity 1959-60. Some of it crept out on various artists compilations, whilst the British label 77 issued an LP's worth entitled "The Rooster Crowed In England". If memory serves correct there's still unreleased material which has been documented in the recent Hopkins biography by Alan Govenar. [ Later Edit: I completely forgot that I had scanned the 77 sleeve and booklet see www.wirz.de/music/77frm.htm scroll down to 1959. It's followed by two other McCormick compilations]
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Post by Admin on Feb 5, 2013 16:37:57 GMT -5
One of my favorite blues artists is Mississippi Fred McDowell. This is from his album "Mississippi Fred McDowell" This is Fred at his Hill Country best. The album was recorded at his home in Como MS and is raw blues at its best. I remember being at a catfish cafe down in the Coldwater bottoms back in the 60's when I heard some music coming from out back. I wandered around to the backporch and there was these three men playing some of the meanest blues I'd ever heard. One of them even ask what I was drinking, and when I told him I was having some redeye (beer in tomato juice), he took out a bottle of Southern Comfort and poured me a big slug and said, that's how you drink a bloody mutherfucka... Later I learned the three were R. L. Burnside, Mississippi Fred McDowell and John Lee Hooker. Just wish I had a camera with me...
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Post by dadfad on Feb 6, 2013 12:20:24 GMT -5
Jim, I was lucky enough to have met him too. I'd gone down to Mississippi on... I don't know... my second or third trip to find an old bluesguy to try to learn from. A guy in a guitar-shop in Memphis I sort of knew told me where to look. My car broke down just the other side of the Tennessee-line on US-51 and I hitch-hiked the rest of the way, which wasn't too far.
I asked at the general-store in Como and the lady there told me where to go. I found him driving a tractor in a cotton field just a couple of miles down the road. I walked out to ask him if he was Mr. McDowell. He said he was, and he said he'd give me some pointers when he had a little time later after he finished his chores. I spent a week sleeping in an abandoned pick-up truck down the road from his place. I practiced all day, and spent the evenings learning what I could from him (and I couldn't slide for sh!t back then so I needed a lot of help). The day I left, he laughed at my slide-version of the Steppenwolf tune "The Pusher" I'd come up with and (being very kind!) said "Not bad, keep at it." and told me to keep the old deep-well socket he'd loaned me from under the seat of his tractor when he saw my slide was a thin chromed slide from a music-store up north ("Hahaha... that'll never do. You need something with a little meat to it.... Here, try this." He played both with an old fire-hardened bone and his pocketknife.) I returned a couple of years later and he'd died. He's buried in a little cemetery next to his wife at Hammond Hill Baptist Chuch just outside of Como. His headstone was inexpensive, just a poured block of cement with his name cast in it. And his name was even spelled wrong...Fred McDewell. I told myself I was going to by him a real headstone someday. I mentioned it to the old woman back at the general-store in Como who had told me how to find the cemetery. (Very out-of-the-way). She said "Why you wanna go an' do that? His people bought what they could afford. It'd be disrespectful of them for some white-boy to buy him another one." Her statement had a big impact on me. I'd never considered that. (I've bought two gravestones since, but only for un-marked graves with no known family.)
Ten or twelve years ago on my way to New Orleans, I stopped in Como again to pay my respects to Mister Fred's and Miss Mae's (she had also been very kind to me) graves. I played one of his tunes and shared a whiskey with him and then went on my way. On my way back to the inter-state highway, I happened to accidently drive down that same dirt-road I'd walked down years before when I had hitch-hiked down to find him. The same old rusty abandoned pick-up truck was still there, looking almost the same as it had thirty years earlier. The hot sun beat down on the dirt-road and the cotton-fields, just as it had then. As if nothing at all had changed, except the calendar. And me riding in a Buick instead of walking on foot. And I suddenly had a very......blue, un-easy feeling sort of. Kind of hard to explain.
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