Sunday - Well that was a great way to say goodbye to February - The Toronto Blues Society Guitar Workshop was held on Sunday afternoon, the 29th (yeah, Leap Day!) I was the host with the most and my guest were formidable guitar players, Michael Jerome Browne, Adam Solomon and Teddy Leonard and Norm Robinson doing a fascinating demo on amps & tubes & bias...
Because we did it like a country-style "guitar pull" it was very different than previous workshops, which were more like showcases with 4 short sets. It was a beautiful, warm Sunday afternoon and I bet a lot of folks would have rather been outdoors than a basement blues bar but we had a good turnout.
By the end of the workshop, probably getting the Afro vibe from Adam, we were all doing songs with one chord. I always said I needed a change from thaose same old 3-chord blues so it was great fun to explore the possibilities one *one* chord.
Friday Night was a night of many chords - first from legendary jazz guitarist Marty Grosz who was playing at the Downtown Jazz Party, a gathering of swing-meisters from the old days...some of them in their nineties. Jake Hanna was there playing drums, he's played with all the greats.
I snuck out of the jazz party to catch Robben Ford at the Horsheshoe - He played a phenomenal set. I was knocked out. A perfect example of how every tune is a showcase and takes you on a little trip - even songs that were nothing more than R&B standards, but he tore them inside out. He was hot and I found out later he was hot off a long tour, so that might explain it. After Robben, I slipped over to Healeys to hear Tinsley Ellis, who hasn't been in Toronto for nine years. I only caught the last few tunesm but he was on fire too - more predictable than Robben, though.
On Thursday, I did a live radio show on CIUT with Steve Fruitman. That was a gas - I used up the whole hour myself, rambling on about my musical life. I even brought steve an old 45 I recorded in 1972 - he got a kick out of that.
Wednedsday I got a call from Fred, the president of my label NorthernBlues. I've delayed my CD so much that I thought this was it - he's going to tell me that it's over and he's found some other great blues artists with finished CDs, but no, he was patient and committed. It will be worth the wait.
Tuesday was the National Jazz Awards - big gala evening. Here was Ole Colorblind starring at a pair of socks trying to figure out if they are black or brown. This is a dressy affair and I want to have black socks with my black (or are they blue) pants. I see lots of familiar faces at the awards evening and there was some great music played, a beautiful guitar trio tribute to Ed Bickert who received a special award. The CBC was broadcasting live so they kept things moving along at quite a clip but the minute their broadcast was over, the whole thing fell apart - there was a long gap and half the audience cleared out, most thinking that it was over. I think they better put the off air stuff on *before* the broadcast next time - that is, if they're still speaking to the CBC
Saturday, February 21, 2004
This week was the last gasp for getting out my pitch to festivals so that I might have a little work this summer and maybe see a bit of the country. But wouldn't you know, everything went wrong. Alyson, who was helping to pitch me took a fall and broke her arm (her typing/pitching arm, of course)
What a week - crazy life & death computer adventures, hi stress but adrenalin flowing. Lots of slippery driving, too. That could be life and death on the country roads I used to travel. The sloped on either side so if you got too close to the edge of a slippery road you might slide right off the side. Last night I missed Robert Randolph. That is one act I wanted to see again - even though I did plan ofn earplugs. I was going to take the repaired computer to the office, reconfigure it on the network then catch the tail end of the show, but my car wouldn't budge. It was parked on glare ice pointed downhill and well wedged between two cars. I know when to "pack it in" (hey, that's the theme of the new song).
I feel good writing to you at this moment though because tonight after this intense period of no guitar playing I came up with a new tune tonight. I wrote the idea on a napkin at the greasy spoon where I had breakfast, then I came home, watched part of a movie then went downstairs and wrote a song. I wish I had the disciplin to stay down there till it was written, but I'm going to bed. Tomorrow I'll mess with it - I'm hoping I can use this tune with this new hyper-instrument I've been working on with Joel. And maybe I finally have a solo tune for the album that demonstrates my guitar style (it's all in the right hand, my producer tells me).
Monday night was Lance Anderson's CD launch at the Orbit Room. I was so broke I had to borrow a few bucks from my son to motivate me to get to Lance's event. He laughed and said "you never have to pay, dad...ha ha", but the time I'm made to pay will be the time I won't have enough $$$. As it turns out Lance was thoughtful enough to leave my name at the door (as well as a CD and a beer ticket - who could ask for more?)
It was a delight to see Lance's organ pedal work - It brought back some long-forgotten childhood memories - I remembered seeing a black organist named Gene something, I think, who played every summer at a lakeside resort on Little Lake Magog.
Later in the evening it was time for "Sisters Euclid", Kevin Breit's band and who should be in the audience but his main employer, Norah Jones. At 10:30 and we noticed the bar was staring to fill music industry scene-makers, Scott Morin, Sam Feldman, and then I heard the buzz..."Norah Jone is in the house" RF tells me Norah is sitting in the front row but I'm staring at a short gal at the bar looking more like a U of T student with thick-rim glasses and...by gawd....it's Norah! I looked at the front table again. I had been talking with CB, a gal who is close to some of the biggest stars in the business, and she ends up talking to Norah's road crew. At the same time, I hear that there is going to be an exclusive showcase at the Lula Lounge the next night and whispered it in CB's ear, and I guess after that she got invited. She even sent me a note the next day saying I could come, but I didn't really get it till too late. Anyway, that night we dropped in to see the North-Mississippi All Stars at the Horseshoe and and an ambient electronic music double-bill at C'est What. Lots of music. The ambient stuff was surprisingly interesting. The NMAS were surprisingly "normal" What happened to that youthful energy they had the first time I saw them? I think the problem is that the drummer has learned how to play and we've lost that Missisippi hill "thrashing around". Maybe it got wilder as the night went on, but by then I was listening to ambient pop. It's nice to have a change once in a while. G'night gramps.
What a week - crazy life & death computer adventures, hi stress but adrenalin flowing. Lots of slippery driving, too. That could be life and death on the country roads I used to travel. The sloped on either side so if you got too close to the edge of a slippery road you might slide right off the side. Last night I missed Robert Randolph. That is one act I wanted to see again - even though I did plan ofn earplugs. I was going to take the repaired computer to the office, reconfigure it on the network then catch the tail end of the show, but my car wouldn't budge. It was parked on glare ice pointed downhill and well wedged between two cars. I know when to "pack it in" (hey, that's the theme of the new song).
I feel good writing to you at this moment though because tonight after this intense period of no guitar playing I came up with a new tune tonight. I wrote the idea on a napkin at the greasy spoon where I had breakfast, then I came home, watched part of a movie then went downstairs and wrote a song. I wish I had the disciplin to stay down there till it was written, but I'm going to bed. Tomorrow I'll mess with it - I'm hoping I can use this tune with this new hyper-instrument I've been working on with Joel. And maybe I finally have a solo tune for the album that demonstrates my guitar style (it's all in the right hand, my producer tells me).
Monday night was Lance Anderson's CD launch at the Orbit Room. I was so broke I had to borrow a few bucks from my son to motivate me to get to Lance's event. He laughed and said "you never have to pay, dad...ha ha", but the time I'm made to pay will be the time I won't have enough $$$. As it turns out Lance was thoughtful enough to leave my name at the door (as well as a CD and a beer ticket - who could ask for more?)
It was a delight to see Lance's organ pedal work - It brought back some long-forgotten childhood memories - I remembered seeing a black organist named Gene something, I think, who played every summer at a lakeside resort on Little Lake Magog.
Later in the evening it was time for "Sisters Euclid", Kevin Breit's band and who should be in the audience but his main employer, Norah Jones. At 10:30 and we noticed the bar was staring to fill music industry scene-makers, Scott Morin, Sam Feldman, and then I heard the buzz..."Norah Jone is in the house" RF tells me Norah is sitting in the front row but I'm staring at a short gal at the bar looking more like a U of T student with thick-rim glasses and...by gawd....it's Norah! I looked at the front table again. I had been talking with CB, a gal who is close to some of the biggest stars in the business, and she ends up talking to Norah's road crew. At the same time, I hear that there is going to be an exclusive showcase at the Lula Lounge the next night and whispered it in CB's ear, and I guess after that she got invited. She even sent me a note the next day saying I could come, but I didn't really get it till too late. Anyway, that night we dropped in to see the North-Mississippi All Stars at the Horseshoe and and an ambient electronic music double-bill at C'est What. Lots of music. The ambient stuff was surprisingly interesting. The NMAS were surprisingly "normal" What happened to that youthful energy they had the first time I saw them? I think the problem is that the drummer has learned how to play and we've lost that Missisippi hill "thrashing around". Maybe it got wilder as the night went on, but by then I was listening to ambient pop. It's nice to have a change once in a while. G'night gramps.
Sunday, February 15, 2004
Dear Grandfather, it's Sunday morning and I woke up to a radio broadcast of a documentary on an American GI called Mike Boranowski who brought a reel-to-reel tape recorder with him to Viet Nam and sent home tapes he made - trying to sound like a war correspondent though he was probably just a kid with a dream. He never made it back, but in 1997 the tapes were discovered by one of his war buddies who created this award winning documentary. Very moving.
I got my first reel-to-reel tape recorder about the same time he was recording his war stories. My mom bought this bulky Phillips tape recorder from a guy she met at A.A. Yes, your daughter went to A.A. after you were long gone. I never thought she or my dad were very supportive of my musical ambitions but that machine certainly was life altering for me. For one thing, I must have been one of the few kids in Sherbrooke who had a tape recorder and I think it's one of the reasons I got to know Allan Fraser when he moved to town - that, and his interest in my sister.
Allan and I started a little folk trio with my cousin Karolyn - we called it Trio BAK (Brian, Allan, Karo...get it?) In 1963 or so a local entrepreneur heard us and brought us up to the big city (Montreal) for a recording session. The session was its own reward, as it were, along with the trip and the steak dinnner in a fancy restaurant. We recorded our 3-part harmonies on a bandtrack that had been recorded in France. The song was in French, of course ("moi, je construis des marionettes...") and was part of a series of 45s that were given out as premiums by the local bread delivery man. Now *that's* distribution - everybody needs bread.
One other story about the tape recorder came back to me lately and I'll relate it before I get down to my current adventures. I had been studying classical string bass for about six months with Mr. Horace Boux, who was the first violinist for the Sherbrooke Symphony Orchestra. I always brag that I've never had a guitar lesson in my life nor did I practice but I certainly practiced that bass and as a reward for my diligent practice I was invited to sit in with the bass section of the Symphony for their annual performance of Medellsohn's Midsummer Night Dream. The symphony always broughy it some ringers from the Montreal and Quebec City orchestras and at the first rehearsal I found myself playing bass next to the first black person I'd ever met in my life. Wish I could remember his name - I think he had a long illustrious carrer in classical music. He was very friendly and giving me some bow-handling tips and when the lunch break came I invited him to come over to my folks house for lunch.
He was happy to oblige and we had a nice dinner and afterwards I invited him upstairs to see my new tape recorder. The only tape I had that wasn't just me fooling around was a recording of Rev Gary Davis so I played that for him. You could tell he'd never heard anything quite like that in his life. It was pretty raw and might have offended his sensibilities and trained ear at first but at the same time it was quite a revelation for him. I'll never forget that moment - a 15 year-old white kid in a small town introducing a French-speaking classically trained black musician to the blues. Look at that! Even then, I was promoting and preserving the blues.
Enough about the tape recorder (well, one more thing I just thought of - I still have a box of tapes from those days...hmm, maybe someday someone will make a radio documentary out of them - or not!)
Let me try to recall what's been happening since my last post. I did a couple of gigs at the Winterfolk festival. What a treat to play two days in a row - I should do that more often. The first was a Delta Guitar Workshop with Mo Kauffey, who has just been forced to move back to the US even though he married a Canadian gal), Rick Zolkower and a guy I just heard fro the first time, Manitoba Hal. I met him at the OCFF conference in October but didn't get to hear his showcase. He even gave me a CD but when I went looking for it the other day, I saw that I had filed it and the shrink wrap was still on it. Shameful. I'm as bad - worse, really - than all the other media mooches who get all kinds of CDs and never even give them a listen. I must try to be more conscientious but I can't be blamed for trying to use what little music time I have to make my own CD. Anyway, I was very impressed with Manitoba Hal and disappointed to find that he didn't have a showcase set in the whole festival. I would have been so there!
On Wednesday I got to play with Lance Anderson at a meet & greet party for the Jazz festival. He provided the backgroud piano sounds on the old upright in the office - it was like a New Orleans rent party. I got up and did a few tunes with him then got Jim Galloway to join me on Saab Story, a tune that Jim plays on on my upcoming CD (....yes, the ever-upcoming CD). That was a real treat!
Anyway the CD is progressing. On Monday I'm heading up to Inception Sound, on of the best studios in the city, to do some mixing with engineer Mike Haas. It was quite reassuring when I was at the announcements of the JUNO nominees and saw his name flash by on the big screen as a nominee for Engineer of the Year.
Enough chit chat. I think I better get back to exporting the tracks off my computer so that I have something to bring him on Monday. Lots of other stuff happened in the last week, but I'll have to relate it another time.
I got my first reel-to-reel tape recorder about the same time he was recording his war stories. My mom bought this bulky Phillips tape recorder from a guy she met at A.A. Yes, your daughter went to A.A. after you were long gone. I never thought she or my dad were very supportive of my musical ambitions but that machine certainly was life altering for me. For one thing, I must have been one of the few kids in Sherbrooke who had a tape recorder and I think it's one of the reasons I got to know Allan Fraser when he moved to town - that, and his interest in my sister.
Allan and I started a little folk trio with my cousin Karolyn - we called it Trio BAK (Brian, Allan, Karo...get it?) In 1963 or so a local entrepreneur heard us and brought us up to the big city (Montreal) for a recording session. The session was its own reward, as it were, along with the trip and the steak dinnner in a fancy restaurant. We recorded our 3-part harmonies on a bandtrack that had been recorded in France. The song was in French, of course ("moi, je construis des marionettes...") and was part of a series of 45s that were given out as premiums by the local bread delivery man. Now *that's* distribution - everybody needs bread.
One other story about the tape recorder came back to me lately and I'll relate it before I get down to my current adventures. I had been studying classical string bass for about six months with Mr. Horace Boux, who was the first violinist for the Sherbrooke Symphony Orchestra. I always brag that I've never had a guitar lesson in my life nor did I practice but I certainly practiced that bass and as a reward for my diligent practice I was invited to sit in with the bass section of the Symphony for their annual performance of Medellsohn's Midsummer Night Dream. The symphony always broughy it some ringers from the Montreal and Quebec City orchestras and at the first rehearsal I found myself playing bass next to the first black person I'd ever met in my life. Wish I could remember his name - I think he had a long illustrious carrer in classical music. He was very friendly and giving me some bow-handling tips and when the lunch break came I invited him to come over to my folks house for lunch.
He was happy to oblige and we had a nice dinner and afterwards I invited him upstairs to see my new tape recorder. The only tape I had that wasn't just me fooling around was a recording of Rev Gary Davis so I played that for him. You could tell he'd never heard anything quite like that in his life. It was pretty raw and might have offended his sensibilities and trained ear at first but at the same time it was quite a revelation for him. I'll never forget that moment - a 15 year-old white kid in a small town introducing a French-speaking classically trained black musician to the blues. Look at that! Even then, I was promoting and preserving the blues.
Enough about the tape recorder (well, one more thing I just thought of - I still have a box of tapes from those days...hmm, maybe someday someone will make a radio documentary out of them - or not!)
Let me try to recall what's been happening since my last post. I did a couple of gigs at the Winterfolk festival. What a treat to play two days in a row - I should do that more often. The first was a Delta Guitar Workshop with Mo Kauffey, who has just been forced to move back to the US even though he married a Canadian gal), Rick Zolkower and a guy I just heard fro the first time, Manitoba Hal. I met him at the OCFF conference in October but didn't get to hear his showcase. He even gave me a CD but when I went looking for it the other day, I saw that I had filed it and the shrink wrap was still on it. Shameful. I'm as bad - worse, really - than all the other media mooches who get all kinds of CDs and never even give them a listen. I must try to be more conscientious but I can't be blamed for trying to use what little music time I have to make my own CD. Anyway, I was very impressed with Manitoba Hal and disappointed to find that he didn't have a showcase set in the whole festival. I would have been so there!
On Wednesday I got to play with Lance Anderson at a meet & greet party for the Jazz festival. He provided the backgroud piano sounds on the old upright in the office - it was like a New Orleans rent party. I got up and did a few tunes with him then got Jim Galloway to join me on Saab Story, a tune that Jim plays on on my upcoming CD (....yes, the ever-upcoming CD). That was a real treat!
Anyway the CD is progressing. On Monday I'm heading up to Inception Sound, on of the best studios in the city, to do some mixing with engineer Mike Haas. It was quite reassuring when I was at the announcements of the JUNO nominees and saw his name flash by on the big screen as a nominee for Engineer of the Year.
Enough chit chat. I think I better get back to exporting the tracks off my computer so that I have something to bring him on Monday. Lots of other stuff happened in the last week, but I'll have to relate it another time.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Winterfolk week-end and other stuff
Hello Grandfather. I've been putting off this update because every night more interesting stuff is happening - nothing that speeds along my own recording project. But it's good for me to write up my progress, even when it's slow, to reassure myself that I am moving forward in one general direction. I picked up a carved turtle at the Pow-Wow and I've nbeen wearing it. I actually had a vision of myself as a turtle and you would probably agree that it's a good fit for my personality.
The new album is underway. Now we're making plans for mixing and renowned mixer MH came to the house the other day and listened to some of the tracks on my computer. He showed me how he wants the files exported and we're going to do a dry run. At least that's the plan.
Meanwhile, last night - just when I was about to start exporting a tune, I was checking email and found a message from TQ telling me he was backing up a great singer at the Senator and this would be the last night to check it out. His initials are DK. He sang some pretty bluesy stuff and he really pulled off Etta James' "At Last" with just the piano accompanyment (but why he didn't use the whole band on that one is a mystery to me). He's planning a release in May, the same time as me, so it will be interesting to watch his progress. He's got the big push happening - and some serious $$$ behind him (I only hope I will have some serious $$$ *ahead* of me)
The night before that, my buddy RK was in town and we did a little jammin' and also had a night out at the Lula Lounge - a venue he'd never seen and it was a good night to get a feeling for the place - the big stage was filled to capacity with a Cuban-style "Orchestre" - strings, flute and three male singer/perccussionists out front.
But back to Winterfolk, grandfather. This was the second year for this festival and they did it again without any private or public support. BG risks his fortune every time - but then he gets to play as much as he wants. Not a bad trade off, because lots of other people get to play.
Some joked that this was the folk festival for artists who can't get booked at the major Ontario folk festivals. Well I haven't played too many folk fetivals, and none last season so I guess I qualify. But there was a good mix of talent, forks who've played hundreds of festivals, and others who haven't played a single one - many of them were the winners of the showcase slots and some travelled from quite far (Colorado?).
If the best showcase is a festival apperance, I hope I'll be able to snag one or two this summer. I did not send out a single package this year but I've still got a few days to get through to someone. The shows at Winterfolk went great - good audiences for both.
I didn't have a watch so some people around might have thought I was being a little niggly, always asking the time and fretting. Well, no wonder! The festival turnaround times had been calculated from the time it took to swith from one guitar player to another. Essentially no changeover time. When the changes started taking half-an-hour, things got backed up. But when the stage manager said to me "we're running late" I was a bit shocked. I work for the jazz festival, and you live by the clock. If for some reason your start time is delayed you do not under any circumstance run into the next artists's performnace time.
That's kind of what happened to me. I was hosting a Delta Blues Guitar Workshop and we were to come on at 11pm. Well, at 10:30, the previous band should have been winding down, but they played right up to 11 and beyond. (Mind you MR & TB were great!) Still, I knew I'd try to be off in time for the headliner to start at his appointed time. JdeK arrived at the club just as we were going on. He thought he had timed it so he would walk in at just the right moment to set up but I told one of his guys that we'd be doing two songs each and then they could have the stage. He seemed quite relieved and as it turned out we finished just after midnight. It was probably another half hour before he started...probably closer to one, when I thought it would be closed down. It would not be a good thing to be the artist that went overtime and caused a very short set by the headliner.
On the second night I did a feature set (also at the Dollar) and it went great considering I decided to play without getting smashed. The Friday night I was smashed (well, not smashed but not sharp, either). I forgot the second verse to Girlfriend Blues, one of my oldest and most popular songs. Then to add insult to injury, I came back at the second verse again after the guitar solo thinking I can't possibly blank out again...and I did! So the second night I play it straight and I had as much fun as you can imagine, but wouldn't you know, I still forgot some words. That was my lesson of the day.
What do you think of that radio station that fired their program director because of improprieties only to have him proven innocent by a forensic audit. Then he fires all the staff that "conspired" to remove him. Then...are you following this??? he's proven guilty of something or other and fired and the fired people are brought back. And as far as I know, the station is still rudderless.
The new album is underway. Now we're making plans for mixing and renowned mixer MH came to the house the other day and listened to some of the tracks on my computer. He showed me how he wants the files exported and we're going to do a dry run. At least that's the plan.
Meanwhile, last night - just when I was about to start exporting a tune, I was checking email and found a message from TQ telling me he was backing up a great singer at the Senator and this would be the last night to check it out. His initials are DK. He sang some pretty bluesy stuff and he really pulled off Etta James' "At Last" with just the piano accompanyment (but why he didn't use the whole band on that one is a mystery to me). He's planning a release in May, the same time as me, so it will be interesting to watch his progress. He's got the big push happening - and some serious $$$ behind him (I only hope I will have some serious $$$ *ahead* of me)
The night before that, my buddy RK was in town and we did a little jammin' and also had a night out at the Lula Lounge - a venue he'd never seen and it was a good night to get a feeling for the place - the big stage was filled to capacity with a Cuban-style "Orchestre" - strings, flute and three male singer/perccussionists out front.
But back to Winterfolk, grandfather. This was the second year for this festival and they did it again without any private or public support. BG risks his fortune every time - but then he gets to play as much as he wants. Not a bad trade off, because lots of other people get to play.
Some joked that this was the folk festival for artists who can't get booked at the major Ontario folk festivals. Well I haven't played too many folk fetivals, and none last season so I guess I qualify. But there was a good mix of talent, forks who've played hundreds of festivals, and others who haven't played a single one - many of them were the winners of the showcase slots and some travelled from quite far (Colorado?).
If the best showcase is a festival apperance, I hope I'll be able to snag one or two this summer. I did not send out a single package this year but I've still got a few days to get through to someone. The shows at Winterfolk went great - good audiences for both.
I didn't have a watch so some people around might have thought I was being a little niggly, always asking the time and fretting. Well, no wonder! The festival turnaround times had been calculated from the time it took to swith from one guitar player to another. Essentially no changeover time. When the changes started taking half-an-hour, things got backed up. But when the stage manager said to me "we're running late" I was a bit shocked. I work for the jazz festival, and you live by the clock. If for some reason your start time is delayed you do not under any circumstance run into the next artists's performnace time.
That's kind of what happened to me. I was hosting a Delta Blues Guitar Workshop and we were to come on at 11pm. Well, at 10:30, the previous band should have been winding down, but they played right up to 11 and beyond. (Mind you MR & TB were great!) Still, I knew I'd try to be off in time for the headliner to start at his appointed time. JdeK arrived at the club just as we were going on. He thought he had timed it so he would walk in at just the right moment to set up but I told one of his guys that we'd be doing two songs each and then they could have the stage. He seemed quite relieved and as it turned out we finished just after midnight. It was probably another half hour before he started...probably closer to one, when I thought it would be closed down. It would not be a good thing to be the artist that went overtime and caused a very short set by the headliner.
On the second night I did a feature set (also at the Dollar) and it went great considering I decided to play without getting smashed. The Friday night I was smashed (well, not smashed but not sharp, either). I forgot the second verse to Girlfriend Blues, one of my oldest and most popular songs. Then to add insult to injury, I came back at the second verse again after the guitar solo thinking I can't possibly blank out again...and I did! So the second night I play it straight and I had as much fun as you can imagine, but wouldn't you know, I still forgot some words. That was my lesson of the day.
What do you think of that radio station that fired their program director because of improprieties only to have him proven innocent by a forensic audit. Then he fires all the staff that "conspired" to remove him. Then...are you following this??? he's proven guilty of something or other and fired and the fired people are brought back. And as far as I know, the station is still rudderless.
Thursday, January 29, 2004
Brian's Maple Blues Awards Diary
Here's what it looked like from the podium at the Maple Blues Awards last Monday. No, I didn't get any awards (my album's almost done, though) but I was asked to pick up the award if my friend Harry Manx won...and what do you know...CONGRATULATIONS HARRY! Acoustic Guitarist of the Year! (for the second year running)
It was a great week-end of Maple Blues activities, too. On Friday night I went to Raoul & the Big Time's CD launch at the Silver Dollar. Great turnout and the band was in fine form. Raoul had a great approach to making his album, he waited until one of his musical heroes was coming to town and he would arrange for a recording session while they were here. He pieced the album together that way over the course of a year and now he's got something really special.
The night after was a special showcase with Adam Solomon, Doc McLean and David Owen and I really wanted to go but I decided I better stay home and work on my own tracks. I happen to know all three of these players and I'm sure they would encourage me to get my own album finished. I had to export the tracks off my computer into a format that can be re-mixed at the studio. The record company has strongly suggested a re-mixer who's good at dealing with tracks in different formats and I have a lot of preparation to do.
The awards evening was a great affair. As usual, now I realize all the folks who were there that I never got to chat with, but the last couple of years I've changed my attitude about all these schmooze events. Instead of trying to shake hands with everybody, I consider it a successful evening if I met one or two interesting new people (and I did), or finally put a face to a name I knew only from the emails. After being told I was the "designated hitter" for Harry Manx (I got the call from his publicist Anya Wilson who tracked me down at the Delta Chelsea Hotel in the middle of the afternoon meeting), I was glad I took a quick look at the programme to see where I might be called because I saw the Acoustic Guitarist of the Year was the first award to be presented. I had just enough time to collect myself when they announced Harry's name and I rose confidently to walk to the podium. I got there way too soon - the band had these great "stings" arranged for each presentation and seasoned award-getters knew to walk slowly or stand by the side for a little bit so folks could enjoy the band. Anyway, I get to the podium and the presenter, musicologist Rob Bowman, is looking a little surprised and we're both standing there waiting for the music to stop. Then he starts to speak and I wonder for a moment "does he know my last name?" but of course he did and I gave a little spiel about how at the last Toronto Blues Society board meeting I had predicted that one day I'd be up there getting an award for "artist most likely to put aside his own career so that he can make newsletters that will promote other people's careers" or something like that. It was just a big whine after I had been called upon to put together the programme book for the event - even though I thought I had found a designer to do it for us. I stood my ground at that meeting - I told them I had an album to mix and there was no time for me to make that book. Then the big freeze...everybody staring me down. Finally Gary Kendall spoke up and jokingly offered to mix the album...that broke the ice and I relented. So the programme book got made and the album still isn't mixed. Woe is me.
On the afternoon of the awards gala, there was a "round-table" session of music industry types and we heard updates from the leading blues labels in the country. Not very encouraging news, mostly. Over the holidays I was sitting across the table with the founder of one of the most successful independent labels in the States (and one of the few profitable labels last year). Established blues artists who were selling 30,000 albums can't even make 10,000 on current releases. And then there's downloading....cutting record company sales expectations by half. Tough times to be a record label, but thanks to a couple of very successful tribute albums (Johnny Cash and Gordon Lightfoot), my label, NorthernBlues, had an excellent year. Now if I can just deliver them an album without too much more undue delay, maybe they won't give up on me.
Actually, it's a good thing that I didn't just take what we had recorded and released it right away - as my engineer and producer pleaded. Since the initial recording I've had a chance to record a couple more tunes, one with the boys from Downchild and another with Harry Manx, and we're going to have a stronger album. And now I've been collaborating with my son, Joel the jungle music guy, to do a remix of the title track of my first CD, Who Paid You To Give Me The Blues. And now I have resurrected a project that I started before I ever got to Toronto - I call it the Robot Johnson Project.
Way back in the 80s I realized that those 41 songs of Robert Johnson contained the seminal guitar riffs and grooves that became the building blocks of Chicago blues and ultimately rock 'n roll. I disected those songs and pulled out the essential grooves that I could jam with - well, that's something that just about every blues guitarist does, consciously or subconsciously. I was playing around with computer music software and early MIDI programs but they just didn't have the horsepower to do what I wanted. Hell, I started with a MIDI card in an Apple IIe (the "e" was for "extended memory" extended to 16K!
The irony is that I don't know a single Robert Johnson song all the way through, in fact, I know very few blues standards. That's why I've never felt comfortable in the local blues jam scene (in this town there must be a blues jam every night of the week if you know where to look). I would just get up and start playing one of my own tunes which would inevitably have a little twist or turn or mystery chord and somebody would always have a hard time following. I didn't help that I would usually end up on stage with some of the less experienced jammers...
I'm determined to put together a small repertoire of songs that everybody knows for such occasions, but even the ones I do know already are not straight-ahead 12-bar blues... St James Infirmary, Love the Life I Live and several others. Today I was trying to learn the third verse of Key To The Highway - Now there's one that everybody should know, even though it's an 8-bar blues.
So now I've announced that I will be previewing Robot Johnson at the Toronto Blues Society Guitar Workshop in exactly one month. It won't be the full blown program, but I hope it will give folks a taste of what's to come. It's not so much about Robert Johnson's music, but he was a perfect candidate to develop this program because there's not an overwhelming amount of material to analyze - 41 songs, his entire recorded output, and half of those are slide tunes in open tuning which did not work for this (but which could be the basis of a second project). Ultimately, this is about creating a library of loops and riffs of my own creation and being able to use them to jam and write. It starts out as nothing more than an echo (the ghostly echo of Robert Johnson) which is timed to the beat and it can build up to a more elaborate accompanyment with keyboard, bass and drum sounds. Just a little something to provide some company for a poor lonely guitarist like myself. Lots to do on this, and finish my album as well...but if I could just record one more track, a killer solo track to kick off the album. The only problem is I haven't written it yet. Maybe I should stop yapping and get to work!
Worse yet, I've got two gigs this week-end and I've hardly touched my guitar. I can always tell it's been too long when the nails on my left hand have grown so long that I can't get a good cotact when I press the strings to the frets.
Tuesday, January 6, 2004
Grandfather, I bow my head in shame.
If I was to do the honourable thing I would offer my resignation to the jazz festival. How could I be so incompetent as to leave out mention of the gig & new CD of our own artistic director in our newsletter. That after having edited together a short blurb on the release (even though I haven't heard it yet). I just brought the newsletters from the printer and it must have been the first thing he noticed but he didn't say a word - he was probably so angry he couldn't speak! How could I do this to the nicest guy...and it's not the first time. And it's no consolation that I often forget to include my own gigs. I may be able to fix it on the last batch to be printed but they don't call me the (barely)managing editor for nothing.
In this month's blues newsletter I forgot about an ad that had been requested. It was a thank you to all their fans from Fathead, Toronto's busiest blues band (until now). They are calling it quits and so should I. Al Lerman, the leader, said "shit happens" and others mentioned Mercury retrograde...but I don't know. Maybe It's the Peter Priciple personified. My publishing career has risen to the point where I could really mess up several cultural institutions in this town if I had a bad week. A country-blues guitar player from the hills of the Eastern Townships should not be entrusted with the dissemination of important cultural information. Sometimes I end up writing the whole damn thing from cover to cover and nary a body to proofread or approve.
Why am I beating myself up in public, you ask? Well, if you don't hear from me again you'll know that I found an appropriate roof to jump from (just kidding - this is not an online suicide note).
This only encourages me further to develop a simple content management system to assemble and publish stories and event listings for these newsletters/websites. If you know anyone that would like to explore a wonderful business opportunity to bring to market the ultimate event listings and newsletters publishing engine, please pass along my coordinates. Any potential partners so far were a little put off when I said the program would be offered free to arts organizations like the Blues Society and the Jazz Society. Still there are many potential paying customers...
I've got to get something in place so that when I head out on the road to promote my new CD (yes, it's coming) that there will be a system in place where the newsletter/website contents can be viewed online and finally approved from a PDF. And the assembly will be so simple, that a couple of volunteers could handle it and I will have made myself redundant and can proceed to bring my life to a satifactory conclusion with a guitar in my lap (having pretty well abandoned the prospect of some sweet young thang in my lap).
Now I'm getting maudlin - I'm going to bed.
Well, nobody reads this anyway...
If I was to do the honourable thing I would offer my resignation to the jazz festival. How could I be so incompetent as to leave out mention of the gig & new CD of our own artistic director in our newsletter. That after having edited together a short blurb on the release (even though I haven't heard it yet). I just brought the newsletters from the printer and it must have been the first thing he noticed but he didn't say a word - he was probably so angry he couldn't speak! How could I do this to the nicest guy...and it's not the first time. And it's no consolation that I often forget to include my own gigs. I may be able to fix it on the last batch to be printed but they don't call me the (barely)managing editor for nothing.
In this month's blues newsletter I forgot about an ad that had been requested. It was a thank you to all their fans from Fathead, Toronto's busiest blues band (until now). They are calling it quits and so should I. Al Lerman, the leader, said "shit happens" and others mentioned Mercury retrograde...but I don't know. Maybe It's the Peter Priciple personified. My publishing career has risen to the point where I could really mess up several cultural institutions in this town if I had a bad week. A country-blues guitar player from the hills of the Eastern Townships should not be entrusted with the dissemination of important cultural information. Sometimes I end up writing the whole damn thing from cover to cover and nary a body to proofread or approve.
Why am I beating myself up in public, you ask? Well, if you don't hear from me again you'll know that I found an appropriate roof to jump from (just kidding - this is not an online suicide note).
This only encourages me further to develop a simple content management system to assemble and publish stories and event listings for these newsletters/websites. If you know anyone that would like to explore a wonderful business opportunity to bring to market the ultimate event listings and newsletters publishing engine, please pass along my coordinates. Any potential partners so far were a little put off when I said the program would be offered free to arts organizations like the Blues Society and the Jazz Society. Still there are many potential paying customers...
I've got to get something in place so that when I head out on the road to promote my new CD (yes, it's coming) that there will be a system in place where the newsletter/website contents can be viewed online and finally approved from a PDF. And the assembly will be so simple, that a couple of volunteers could handle it and I will have made myself redundant and can proceed to bring my life to a satifactory conclusion with a guitar in my lap (having pretty well abandoned the prospect of some sweet young thang in my lap).
Now I'm getting maudlin - I'm going to bed.
Well, nobody reads this anyway...
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
****this article reminded of my old stompin' grounds in the hills of Quebec's Eastern Towmships. Makes me positively homesick!
Delta Force
The dishevelled duo behind the Fat Possum label have fought to bring old bluesmen to a new, young audience. But it's even harder keeping their battle-scarred artists alive. Richard Grant reports from deepest Mississippi
Sunday November 16, 2003
The Observer
The offices of Fat Possum Records are located with wild incongruity between a police station and a Baptist church in the small, god- fearing town of Water Valley, Mississippi, where the lawns are deep and green and possession of beer is a criminal offence. I walk through the unmarked front door and past two weasel pelts on a hat rack and ask how things have been going. 'No worse than usual,' says Matthew Johnson, 34, the dishevelled, hard-drinking, fiercely iconoclastic founder of Fat Possum. He is limping around with two pins sticking out of his toes, having lost his temper, kicked a wall, broken two toes, ignored them as they healed crooked, then finally gone to hospital to have them re-broken and pinned, with little yellow plastic balls on the pinheads.
'We've signed this new guy Charles "Cadillac" Caldwell and we're real excited about him.' Trouble is, he's been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. 'A touch of the pancreatic,' is how he puts it. 'It's so fucking sad. He's only 60.'
Paul 'Wine' Jones, another of the ageing Mississippi bluesmen to whom Fat Possum's fortunes are tied, has been jailed for drunk driving again, halting the production of his new album. 'At least he didn't kill anybody,' says Bruce Watson, 39, the other half of Fat Possum, an irreverent preacher's son who produces most of the records and keeps a hand grenade by his desk. Two of Fat Possum's best-known artists, R.L. Burnside and T-Model Ford, have gone to prison for killing people and T-Model served his time on a chain gang.
Johnny Farmer killed his wife but that was an accident; he was trying to shoot a deer. He is refusing to record any more songs because blues is the devil's music. It brings a curse on everyone who plays it and then you burn in hell.
'T-Model Ford got robbed for 2,000 dollars the other day,' says Johnson. 'Then someone threw a brick through his window. Then the 88- year-old white woman who was teaching him how to read and write got raped and beaten to death. This all went down in Greenville (Mississippi), which is one of the worst shitholes in America for violence and crack and degenerate goddamn madness. We'd like to get T- Model out of there but he won't leave.'
What about R.L. Burnside? From the very beginning, Fat Possum has operated amid chaos and disaster, racking up terrible debts, going through hideous legal wrangles and distribution nightmares, and all the while dealing with a troublesome, mutinous crew of musicians. R.L. Burnside is no slouch when it comes to trouble - Johnson has lost count of how many cars he has destroyed, for example, or the number of times he has failed to show up at the recording studio - but as their bestselling artist Burnside has done more than anyone to keep the leaky, listing vessel Fat Possum afloat.
Come On In, an album of Burnside's blues remixed with hip-hop beats, sold 180,000 worldwide and furnished a very lucrative song to The Sopranos soundtrack album. Ass Pocket of Whiskey, a Burnside collaboration with the young, punk-influenced rockers the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion sold more than 100,000 and opened up a whole new audience - young, white and hip - for the kind of raw, stomping, electrified Mississippi blues played by the old black men on Fat Possum. 'R.L. doesn't want to do any more tours, or learn any new songs, or write any new songs, or basically even pick up a guitar. But if I drive up to his house he might sing a few lines into a tape recorder,' says Watson. 'I can't blame him. He's 76 years old, he had a heart attack eight months ago and he's making good money just sitting on his front porch - way better money than he's ever made in his life.'
Nor is R.L. Burnside eager to talk to any more journalists, but Johnson and Watson have considered my request and come up with a plan. They hand me an envelope containing $2,000 in cash and a map to Burnside's house. 'This is his latest royalty payment,' says Watson. 'I'll call him and say you're going to deliver it and you'd like to talk to him. He may talk, he may not, but whatever you do, make sure you give him the money personally. If any of his kids say they'll give it to him, you hold on to the money and find R.L. In fact, I wouldn't even mention to any of his kids that you've got two grand in your pocket.'
R.L. Burnside's total earnings were in the low six figures last year. In the past 10 years he has earned well over half a million dollars. The entrance to his property is marked by two 50-gallon oil drums spilling over with rubbish and forming a small lake of rubbish about 10 feet wide. Elsewhere, in the front yard, there are stray beer cans and dirty nappies floating in mud puddles, mangy dogs and prowling cats, seven vehicles in various states of disrepair, and in the thick, steamy summer heat the whole place is buzzing with flies.
The Burnside clan, about 15 or 20 of them, and sometimes upwards of 25, live in two trailers on a quarter acre of weeds and bare, coppery earth in the backwoods hill country near Chulahoma, Mississippi. The larger trailer is grimy but sturdy-looking, with a solid wooden front porch. The smaller trailer is cracked, mouldering and swaybacked, connected for electricity by an orange extension cord snaking across the yard.
Leaning against one of the cars are three young men with jheri curls and baseball caps, drinking big 40-ounce bottles of Cobra malt liquor at 9.30 in the morning. I nod and say hello. They scowl back and say nothing. A little girl scampers up from under the porch and runs into the big trailer shouting, 'White man here!'
R.L. comes lumbering out onto the porch, looking old and tired, wearing mud-smeared trousers held up with braces and a checked shirt fraying at the collar. His eyes are bloodshot. The pupils have a thin outer rim of blue. Big, dark liver spots extend back from his cheekbones to his ears. 'Bruce called me,' he growls. 'Two thousand, right?' 'That's right. Have you got time to talk?' 'Little bit I reckon.'
I hand over the money and get him to sign a hand-written receipt. 'Has Fat Possum been paying you right?' I ask. 'Yeah, they done right by me, I reckon, but the money goes quick. I got 12 kids and you need a damn computer to count my grandkids. Then we got all these second cousins showing up and every one of them needs money.'
'Do any of your kids have jobs?'
'Ain't much work around here. One of my sons plays a little music.'
'Which one of these vehicles are you driving?'
'That van over there except it needs a new fuel pump. Only one of these that runs is my grandson's over there.'
>From inside the trailer comes a terrible racket of screaming
children, barking dogs, a man and a woman yelling at the children and each other, making liberal use of the oedipal noun, and a television game show turned up full blast. R.L. Burnside sits on his plastic porch chair as calm and motionless as a stone Buddha, then his hand flashes out to swat a fly on his leg. I remember something Bruce Watson told me about Burnside and lethal snakes. 'I heard you used to grab rattlesnakes and copperheads by the tail and snap them like a whip to break their necks.'
He brightens and smiles. 'Man, I was hell on them snakes,' he says. 'One time a copperhead got under my son's bed. I told him to go and grab it. He said, "Daddy, is it poisonous?" I told him, "No son, that's just an old blacksnake. He won't hurt you. You go in there and grab him behind the head." So he went on and grabbed up that snake and threw it out. Then I told him, "That was a copperhead!"' He laughs his deep, deep chuckle, heh heh heh, repeats the punchline and laughs some more.
How old was his son was at the time? 'Oh he was up around 13, 14 years old. I got him good with that one.'
I ask him about the man he killed and he gives a variation of his standard response: 'I didn't mean to kill nobody. I just meant to shoot the sonofabitch in the head and two times in the chest. Him dying was between him and the Lord.'
It happened at a dice game long ago; Burnside had beaten the man out of $400. In court he claimed self-defence, although one of the bullets entered the back of the victim's head. Burnside was working for a powerful white plantation owner at the time, driving a tractor. His boss wanted him back at work so he fixed things with the judge and R.L. ended up serving only six months.
As a young man, as part of the great black migration away from sharecropping, lynching parties and Jim Crow laws, Burnside went north to Chicago. Muddy Waters had married his first cousin and he would go over to their house two or three times a week and play the blues with Muddy. He left Chicago because five family members, including his father and two brothers, were murdered there in eight months. He came back down to Mississippi and worked various farm jobs for 40 years, playing the blues at house parties, juke joints and local festivals, until Matthew Johnson heard him one night and decided to record him.
Now he has toured all over America and the world, appeared on television, earned a small fortune, and none of it seems to have changed him in the slightest. Has he enjoyed his musical success? 'Well, there's a lot of travelling and fussing around but I can always use money around here.'
After his heart attack he gave up drinking on doctor's orders. At first he couldn't imagine life without alcohol but now he doesn't miss it. Nor does he miss playing music, an activity that was intimately connected with drinking. He tried playing a little recently, for the first time in more than a year, and it felt like he had to learn all over again. 'I'm getting too old for all that,' he says and gets to his feet, signalling that the interview is over.
One last question: how does he like the remixes of his music that Fat Possum has put out? 'At first I didn't like them too much,' he says. 'Then I saw how much money they were making and I got to liking them pretty well.'
Matthew Johnson is driving the country roads around Water Valley in his big, dented, Chevrolet pick-up truck, sipping on a cocktail, rolling through the woods and fields and swamps with no destination in mind and the stereo turned up loud. To really hear a piece of music he has to take it for a test drive. For the third time he plays a new song Fat Possum has been working on, a collaboration between R.L. Burnside and Kid Rock, the white hard-rock rapper from Detroit who has sold 17 million records in four years. Burnside's guitar and vocals have been sampled and mixed with a beat, some overdubs and a verse and chorus from Kid Rock. Neither artist gave them much to work with but the styles blend in an ear-catching way and song is full of energy and attitude. 'Fuck yeah,' says Johnson. 'It sounds good, doesn't it? Working with R.L. has taught us all about squeezing out the last piece of toothpaste from the tube.'
When Johnson and Watson first started doing rock and hip hop collaborations with Burnside they came under heavy attack from purists. It gave Johnson great pleasure to outrage the 'blues geeks', as he calls them, but that wasn't his motivation. For the label to survive it was essential to put out new music by its best-known artist, and R.L. was not learning or writing any new songs. Johnson was also looking for a way to make the blues relevant to a young audience, by framing its essential feeling in a modern context. 'I was never in this as an archivist or a folklorist, recording these guys for posterity. It was the energy and intensity that attracted me.'
In 1991 Matthew Johnson was 22 years old, drinking like a maniac, getting into crazy scrapes, doing a lot of hard drugs with loaded pistols and vodka bottles strewn across the table. He was also attending the University of Mississippi on an occasional basis and had written some reviews for a blues magazine - 'all these crappy bands from Sweden and New Jersey, doing covers of "Sweet Home Chicago".'
One Sunday he drove out to Junior Kimbrough's juke joint, a rough- hewn saloon and dance shack out in the woods, where R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough played the blues until dawn to a moonshine-swilling crowd. Johnson was blown away by the raw power of the music and decided immediately that it needed recording. He had a $400 student loan cheque coming in and that was how Fat Possum began.
Now he is 34 and looks closer to 43, with a weary, distracted, slightly deranged air and a deep, dark, razor-cutting sense of humour, although not half as dark as R.L. Burnside's. A sensible man would have given up long ago. A less scrappy, tenacious and resourceful one would have been put under by bankers and lawyers. By the mid-1990s Fat Possum was a million dollars in debt. One year Johnson's bank charged him $14,000 in bounced cheque fees alone, at $17 per cheque. For two years Fat Possum was unable to release any music because of a legal battle with its distributor, Capricorn Records.
Junior Kimbrough, perhaps Fat Possum's greatest discovery, a man who reconfigured the blues into a kind of lo-fi, backwoods trance music, was the first artist to die. He left 36 children, many of whom were convinced Fat Possum owed them money. Then Asie Payton died, after only one recording session, and Johnny Farmer quit, and R.L. Burnside went into retirement, and so on.
The only new discovery they've made in years is Charles 'Cadillac' Caldwell, a retired factory worker and hound breeder who still sings the rough, old-time blues, with a moaning, shouting, spine-chilling vocal style, but it looks as though his first album will be his last. 'Basically the blues was dying when we started and now it's over,' says Johnson. 'The only guy we've got who's still running strong is T-Model Ford. There's some weird Dorian Gray shit happening with him. He's 80 now and he just keeps getting stronger.'
Last year T-Model Ford recorded a new album and played 150 shows. Towards the end of the tour he was complaining of blood in his urine and everyone assumed it was prostate cancer. They took him to the doctor who made an inspection and announced that T-Model, at the age of 79, had managed to contract gonorrhea.
Walking with a cane and his tall, gap-toothed, mentally impaired drummer Spam following, T-Model Ford makes a grand entrance into the Fat Possum offices, flashing his false teeth in a big, charismatic smile.
'I'm the Taildragger from Greenville, Muz-sippi! Ooo-weee, I make the pretty womens jump and shout! They took my gun but I got my knife and I'll cut a motherfucker too. Can't read, can't write, I don't argue with folks about the Bible but I love the womens! I love 'em cause of that little split they got. I got three womens right now and they won't let ol' T-Model alone. I'm a bad man! I can't get around like I used to but if I can reach a motherfucker, look out! I knocked out that Winehead Jones with this.'
He raises up his clenched right fist and bicep, which look as though they belong to a strong man in his fifties. He did indeed knock Paul 'Wine' Jones unconscious with one blow, during a squabble over whose white woman belonged to whom. Tomorrow T-Model is scheduled to play at a festival in Canada, a country he pronounces variously as 'Canna', 'Canny' and 'Can'. Last time he went there, he got up on stage and said, 'Hey, it's great to be overseas in Germany. I love the womens over here.' He also speaks highly of 'the little white women from Jay-pan'. T-Model never went to school, can't read a map or a roadsign and has no geographical sense whatsoever.
Before Fat Possum found him, he had spent his life in Deep South logging camps and on the chain gang for killing a man with a 25-cent pocketknife in a bar-room altercation. He fathered 26 children and started playing the guitar on the night his fifth wife left him, at the age of 58.
I ask T-Model if I can hear him play. 'Let's go,' he says and we get into his big blue 1979 Lincoln Continental and drive across the railroad tracks to a corner house in a part of Water Valley I have never seen before. An old man with one eye and no teeth is in a wheelchair on a rotting front porch, trying to attach a prosthetic leg to his stump. 'Hey Pete!' yells T-Model. 'Y'all got any elec- quickery up in there? We fixin' to play a little music.'
'Hey bluesman, you come on. We got electric,' says Pete and then his leg falls off with a clatter. 'I ain't never gonna get used to this damn fool leg.'
T-Model gets out his guitar and amp and the bottle of Jack and sets himself up on a chair on the porch. The music and the whiskey soon draw a crowd of afternoon drunks and a few curious mothers and small children. T-Model is flashing his smile, playing his rough, eccentric blues with raucous exuberance: 'I wanna rock you baby, till I drop dead in your arms.' There is violence and strangeness in his music, but no hint of the sadness or pain traditional in the blues. Matthew Johnson describes him as 'a happy-go-lucky psychopath'.
T-Model's life reads like a horror story. At the age of eight, his father beat him so badly between the legs with a piece of firewood that he lost a testicle. His ankles are scarred from the chain gang. His neck is scarred where one of his wives slashed his throat. He has been shot, stabbed, pinned under a fallen tree with a broken ribcage, beaten unconscious with a metal chair. He watched his first wife go off with his own father, watched another die after she drank poison to try and induce a miscarriage. The only woman he ever really loved poisoned him at the breakfast table; he woke up in hospital that afternoon and never saw her again.
'I play the blues,' he says during a whiskey break. 'But I don't ever get the blues. After my sister died I prayed to God to please let me live like a tree. Tree don't care if them other trees is dyin'. Tree don't care about nothin'. When they raped and killed that white lady, I felt bad - she was a good old white lady - but I didn't let it get me down. I don't let nothin' get me down.' Most people can't do this - stay happy because they've decided to be happy, no matter what - but it seems to work for T-Model.
As the sun goes down, three men are inside T-Model's Lincoln, rifling it for something to steal. Vehicles are drawing up to buy crack from a young man in a 'Jesus' T-shirt. An old man with a bowler hat and mad yellow eyes is coming towards me, trying to polish a peach on his leg as if it were an apple and leaving long smears of juice on his red slacks. He grabs at my shirt and demands money for gin. Another man is threatening Spam with a wine bottle, and T-Model is yelling, 'Get your hand out my pocket, motherfucker, I already give you two dollar!'
I pack up the gear, get T-Model behind the wheel, Spam in the back and we scramble out of there with everyone yelling and grabbing at the car. 'Man, they some beggin' motherfuckers around here,' says T- Model. He drops me off at the Fat Possum offices and drives off towards the trailer at the recording studio, where he and Spam are staying.
An hour later, I recount this to Matthew Johnson and he says, 'So you don't know for sure that T-Model is in the trailer? We'd better drive out there and check.' There's no sign of T-Model at the trailer or at the Texaco station where he has been courting a woman.
'I can't believe he'd go back to that porch,' I say.
'Are you kidding?' says Johnson. 'That's his normal, everyday reality. I'll bet he's back there, happy as a clam.' And sure enough, there he is, about three-quarters drunk and playing to a bigger crowd.
What does a blues label do when the blues is over? With the help of parent company, Epitaph, who saved them from bankruptcy in 1996, Fat Possum managed to get Solomon Burke, the great deep soul singer, to record a collection of songs written for him by Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, Van Morrison, Brian Wilson and others. The album, Don't Give up on Me , won a Grammy and has sold 300,000 worldwide.
Johnson also managed to sign The Black Keys, a lo-fi punk blues band, akin to The White Stripes. Last year was Fat Possum's most successful but it didn't furnish them with much confidence. Solomon Burke was a once-in-a-lifetime coup, they almost lost The Black Keys - and nothing else they released made any real money.
Matthew Johnson and Bruce Watson spend their days scrambling and hustling, trying to cook up new schemes to stay in business. Having released every scrap of music recorded by the late Junior Kimbrough, they are now trying to put together a Kimbrough tribute album. Johnson is trying to persuade the RZA, the hip hop producer from Wu- Tang Clan, to contribute to the new R.L. Burnside remix project, and coax a little more out of Kid Rock. Fat Possum has signed Grandpa Boy, a new band formed by Paul Westerberg from The Replacements. From a bankrupt record label, they have bought a vault of southern rural 1960s blues, so Fat Possum can keep putting out great blues.
'I saw a guy on TV juggling a meat cleaver, a tomato and a bowling ball,' says Johnson. 'That's how I feel most of the time but what else am I going to do? When I started out, I didn't know what I was doing. Now I don't know how to do anything else. I don't have any choice but to carry on and hope a meat cleaver doesn't slice off my toes.'
· While this issue was going to press, Charles 'Cadillac' Caldwell died.
Delta Force
The dishevelled duo behind the Fat Possum label have fought to bring old bluesmen to a new, young audience. But it's even harder keeping their battle-scarred artists alive. Richard Grant reports from deepest Mississippi
Sunday November 16, 2003
The Observer
The offices of Fat Possum Records are located with wild incongruity between a police station and a Baptist church in the small, god- fearing town of Water Valley, Mississippi, where the lawns are deep and green and possession of beer is a criminal offence. I walk through the unmarked front door and past two weasel pelts on a hat rack and ask how things have been going. 'No worse than usual,' says Matthew Johnson, 34, the dishevelled, hard-drinking, fiercely iconoclastic founder of Fat Possum. He is limping around with two pins sticking out of his toes, having lost his temper, kicked a wall, broken two toes, ignored them as they healed crooked, then finally gone to hospital to have them re-broken and pinned, with little yellow plastic balls on the pinheads.
'We've signed this new guy Charles "Cadillac" Caldwell and we're real excited about him.' Trouble is, he's been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. 'A touch of the pancreatic,' is how he puts it. 'It's so fucking sad. He's only 60.'
Paul 'Wine' Jones, another of the ageing Mississippi bluesmen to whom Fat Possum's fortunes are tied, has been jailed for drunk driving again, halting the production of his new album. 'At least he didn't kill anybody,' says Bruce Watson, 39, the other half of Fat Possum, an irreverent preacher's son who produces most of the records and keeps a hand grenade by his desk. Two of Fat Possum's best-known artists, R.L. Burnside and T-Model Ford, have gone to prison for killing people and T-Model served his time on a chain gang.
Johnny Farmer killed his wife but that was an accident; he was trying to shoot a deer. He is refusing to record any more songs because blues is the devil's music. It brings a curse on everyone who plays it and then you burn in hell.
'T-Model Ford got robbed for 2,000 dollars the other day,' says Johnson. 'Then someone threw a brick through his window. Then the 88- year-old white woman who was teaching him how to read and write got raped and beaten to death. This all went down in Greenville (Mississippi), which is one of the worst shitholes in America for violence and crack and degenerate goddamn madness. We'd like to get T- Model out of there but he won't leave.'
What about R.L. Burnside? From the very beginning, Fat Possum has operated amid chaos and disaster, racking up terrible debts, going through hideous legal wrangles and distribution nightmares, and all the while dealing with a troublesome, mutinous crew of musicians. R.L. Burnside is no slouch when it comes to trouble - Johnson has lost count of how many cars he has destroyed, for example, or the number of times he has failed to show up at the recording studio - but as their bestselling artist Burnside has done more than anyone to keep the leaky, listing vessel Fat Possum afloat.
Come On In, an album of Burnside's blues remixed with hip-hop beats, sold 180,000 worldwide and furnished a very lucrative song to The Sopranos soundtrack album. Ass Pocket of Whiskey, a Burnside collaboration with the young, punk-influenced rockers the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion sold more than 100,000 and opened up a whole new audience - young, white and hip - for the kind of raw, stomping, electrified Mississippi blues played by the old black men on Fat Possum. 'R.L. doesn't want to do any more tours, or learn any new songs, or write any new songs, or basically even pick up a guitar. But if I drive up to his house he might sing a few lines into a tape recorder,' says Watson. 'I can't blame him. He's 76 years old, he had a heart attack eight months ago and he's making good money just sitting on his front porch - way better money than he's ever made in his life.'
Nor is R.L. Burnside eager to talk to any more journalists, but Johnson and Watson have considered my request and come up with a plan. They hand me an envelope containing $2,000 in cash and a map to Burnside's house. 'This is his latest royalty payment,' says Watson. 'I'll call him and say you're going to deliver it and you'd like to talk to him. He may talk, he may not, but whatever you do, make sure you give him the money personally. If any of his kids say they'll give it to him, you hold on to the money and find R.L. In fact, I wouldn't even mention to any of his kids that you've got two grand in your pocket.'
R.L. Burnside's total earnings were in the low six figures last year. In the past 10 years he has earned well over half a million dollars. The entrance to his property is marked by two 50-gallon oil drums spilling over with rubbish and forming a small lake of rubbish about 10 feet wide. Elsewhere, in the front yard, there are stray beer cans and dirty nappies floating in mud puddles, mangy dogs and prowling cats, seven vehicles in various states of disrepair, and in the thick, steamy summer heat the whole place is buzzing with flies.
The Burnside clan, about 15 or 20 of them, and sometimes upwards of 25, live in two trailers on a quarter acre of weeds and bare, coppery earth in the backwoods hill country near Chulahoma, Mississippi. The larger trailer is grimy but sturdy-looking, with a solid wooden front porch. The smaller trailer is cracked, mouldering and swaybacked, connected for electricity by an orange extension cord snaking across the yard.
Leaning against one of the cars are three young men with jheri curls and baseball caps, drinking big 40-ounce bottles of Cobra malt liquor at 9.30 in the morning. I nod and say hello. They scowl back and say nothing. A little girl scampers up from under the porch and runs into the big trailer shouting, 'White man here!'
R.L. comes lumbering out onto the porch, looking old and tired, wearing mud-smeared trousers held up with braces and a checked shirt fraying at the collar. His eyes are bloodshot. The pupils have a thin outer rim of blue. Big, dark liver spots extend back from his cheekbones to his ears. 'Bruce called me,' he growls. 'Two thousand, right?' 'That's right. Have you got time to talk?' 'Little bit I reckon.'
I hand over the money and get him to sign a hand-written receipt. 'Has Fat Possum been paying you right?' I ask. 'Yeah, they done right by me, I reckon, but the money goes quick. I got 12 kids and you need a damn computer to count my grandkids. Then we got all these second cousins showing up and every one of them needs money.'
'Do any of your kids have jobs?'
'Ain't much work around here. One of my sons plays a little music.'
'Which one of these vehicles are you driving?'
'That van over there except it needs a new fuel pump. Only one of these that runs is my grandson's over there.'
>From inside the trailer comes a terrible racket of screaming
children, barking dogs, a man and a woman yelling at the children and each other, making liberal use of the oedipal noun, and a television game show turned up full blast. R.L. Burnside sits on his plastic porch chair as calm and motionless as a stone Buddha, then his hand flashes out to swat a fly on his leg. I remember something Bruce Watson told me about Burnside and lethal snakes. 'I heard you used to grab rattlesnakes and copperheads by the tail and snap them like a whip to break their necks.'
He brightens and smiles. 'Man, I was hell on them snakes,' he says. 'One time a copperhead got under my son's bed. I told him to go and grab it. He said, "Daddy, is it poisonous?" I told him, "No son, that's just an old blacksnake. He won't hurt you. You go in there and grab him behind the head." So he went on and grabbed up that snake and threw it out. Then I told him, "That was a copperhead!"' He laughs his deep, deep chuckle, heh heh heh, repeats the punchline and laughs some more.
How old was his son was at the time? 'Oh he was up around 13, 14 years old. I got him good with that one.'
I ask him about the man he killed and he gives a variation of his standard response: 'I didn't mean to kill nobody. I just meant to shoot the sonofabitch in the head and two times in the chest. Him dying was between him and the Lord.'
It happened at a dice game long ago; Burnside had beaten the man out of $400. In court he claimed self-defence, although one of the bullets entered the back of the victim's head. Burnside was working for a powerful white plantation owner at the time, driving a tractor. His boss wanted him back at work so he fixed things with the judge and R.L. ended up serving only six months.
As a young man, as part of the great black migration away from sharecropping, lynching parties and Jim Crow laws, Burnside went north to Chicago. Muddy Waters had married his first cousin and he would go over to their house two or three times a week and play the blues with Muddy. He left Chicago because five family members, including his father and two brothers, were murdered there in eight months. He came back down to Mississippi and worked various farm jobs for 40 years, playing the blues at house parties, juke joints and local festivals, until Matthew Johnson heard him one night and decided to record him.
Now he has toured all over America and the world, appeared on television, earned a small fortune, and none of it seems to have changed him in the slightest. Has he enjoyed his musical success? 'Well, there's a lot of travelling and fussing around but I can always use money around here.'
After his heart attack he gave up drinking on doctor's orders. At first he couldn't imagine life without alcohol but now he doesn't miss it. Nor does he miss playing music, an activity that was intimately connected with drinking. He tried playing a little recently, for the first time in more than a year, and it felt like he had to learn all over again. 'I'm getting too old for all that,' he says and gets to his feet, signalling that the interview is over.
One last question: how does he like the remixes of his music that Fat Possum has put out? 'At first I didn't like them too much,' he says. 'Then I saw how much money they were making and I got to liking them pretty well.'
Matthew Johnson is driving the country roads around Water Valley in his big, dented, Chevrolet pick-up truck, sipping on a cocktail, rolling through the woods and fields and swamps with no destination in mind and the stereo turned up loud. To really hear a piece of music he has to take it for a test drive. For the third time he plays a new song Fat Possum has been working on, a collaboration between R.L. Burnside and Kid Rock, the white hard-rock rapper from Detroit who has sold 17 million records in four years. Burnside's guitar and vocals have been sampled and mixed with a beat, some overdubs and a verse and chorus from Kid Rock. Neither artist gave them much to work with but the styles blend in an ear-catching way and song is full of energy and attitude. 'Fuck yeah,' says Johnson. 'It sounds good, doesn't it? Working with R.L. has taught us all about squeezing out the last piece of toothpaste from the tube.'
When Johnson and Watson first started doing rock and hip hop collaborations with Burnside they came under heavy attack from purists. It gave Johnson great pleasure to outrage the 'blues geeks', as he calls them, but that wasn't his motivation. For the label to survive it was essential to put out new music by its best-known artist, and R.L. was not learning or writing any new songs. Johnson was also looking for a way to make the blues relevant to a young audience, by framing its essential feeling in a modern context. 'I was never in this as an archivist or a folklorist, recording these guys for posterity. It was the energy and intensity that attracted me.'
In 1991 Matthew Johnson was 22 years old, drinking like a maniac, getting into crazy scrapes, doing a lot of hard drugs with loaded pistols and vodka bottles strewn across the table. He was also attending the University of Mississippi on an occasional basis and had written some reviews for a blues magazine - 'all these crappy bands from Sweden and New Jersey, doing covers of "Sweet Home Chicago".'
One Sunday he drove out to Junior Kimbrough's juke joint, a rough- hewn saloon and dance shack out in the woods, where R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough played the blues until dawn to a moonshine-swilling crowd. Johnson was blown away by the raw power of the music and decided immediately that it needed recording. He had a $400 student loan cheque coming in and that was how Fat Possum began.
Now he is 34 and looks closer to 43, with a weary, distracted, slightly deranged air and a deep, dark, razor-cutting sense of humour, although not half as dark as R.L. Burnside's. A sensible man would have given up long ago. A less scrappy, tenacious and resourceful one would have been put under by bankers and lawyers. By the mid-1990s Fat Possum was a million dollars in debt. One year Johnson's bank charged him $14,000 in bounced cheque fees alone, at $17 per cheque. For two years Fat Possum was unable to release any music because of a legal battle with its distributor, Capricorn Records.
Junior Kimbrough, perhaps Fat Possum's greatest discovery, a man who reconfigured the blues into a kind of lo-fi, backwoods trance music, was the first artist to die. He left 36 children, many of whom were convinced Fat Possum owed them money. Then Asie Payton died, after only one recording session, and Johnny Farmer quit, and R.L. Burnside went into retirement, and so on.
The only new discovery they've made in years is Charles 'Cadillac' Caldwell, a retired factory worker and hound breeder who still sings the rough, old-time blues, with a moaning, shouting, spine-chilling vocal style, but it looks as though his first album will be his last. 'Basically the blues was dying when we started and now it's over,' says Johnson. 'The only guy we've got who's still running strong is T-Model Ford. There's some weird Dorian Gray shit happening with him. He's 80 now and he just keeps getting stronger.'
Last year T-Model Ford recorded a new album and played 150 shows. Towards the end of the tour he was complaining of blood in his urine and everyone assumed it was prostate cancer. They took him to the doctor who made an inspection and announced that T-Model, at the age of 79, had managed to contract gonorrhea.
Walking with a cane and his tall, gap-toothed, mentally impaired drummer Spam following, T-Model Ford makes a grand entrance into the Fat Possum offices, flashing his false teeth in a big, charismatic smile.
'I'm the Taildragger from Greenville, Muz-sippi! Ooo-weee, I make the pretty womens jump and shout! They took my gun but I got my knife and I'll cut a motherfucker too. Can't read, can't write, I don't argue with folks about the Bible but I love the womens! I love 'em cause of that little split they got. I got three womens right now and they won't let ol' T-Model alone. I'm a bad man! I can't get around like I used to but if I can reach a motherfucker, look out! I knocked out that Winehead Jones with this.'
He raises up his clenched right fist and bicep, which look as though they belong to a strong man in his fifties. He did indeed knock Paul 'Wine' Jones unconscious with one blow, during a squabble over whose white woman belonged to whom. Tomorrow T-Model is scheduled to play at a festival in Canada, a country he pronounces variously as 'Canna', 'Canny' and 'Can'. Last time he went there, he got up on stage and said, 'Hey, it's great to be overseas in Germany. I love the womens over here.' He also speaks highly of 'the little white women from Jay-pan'. T-Model never went to school, can't read a map or a roadsign and has no geographical sense whatsoever.
Before Fat Possum found him, he had spent his life in Deep South logging camps and on the chain gang for killing a man with a 25-cent pocketknife in a bar-room altercation. He fathered 26 children and started playing the guitar on the night his fifth wife left him, at the age of 58.
I ask T-Model if I can hear him play. 'Let's go,' he says and we get into his big blue 1979 Lincoln Continental and drive across the railroad tracks to a corner house in a part of Water Valley I have never seen before. An old man with one eye and no teeth is in a wheelchair on a rotting front porch, trying to attach a prosthetic leg to his stump. 'Hey Pete!' yells T-Model. 'Y'all got any elec- quickery up in there? We fixin' to play a little music.'
'Hey bluesman, you come on. We got electric,' says Pete and then his leg falls off with a clatter. 'I ain't never gonna get used to this damn fool leg.'
T-Model gets out his guitar and amp and the bottle of Jack and sets himself up on a chair on the porch. The music and the whiskey soon draw a crowd of afternoon drunks and a few curious mothers and small children. T-Model is flashing his smile, playing his rough, eccentric blues with raucous exuberance: 'I wanna rock you baby, till I drop dead in your arms.' There is violence and strangeness in his music, but no hint of the sadness or pain traditional in the blues. Matthew Johnson describes him as 'a happy-go-lucky psychopath'.
T-Model's life reads like a horror story. At the age of eight, his father beat him so badly between the legs with a piece of firewood that he lost a testicle. His ankles are scarred from the chain gang. His neck is scarred where one of his wives slashed his throat. He has been shot, stabbed, pinned under a fallen tree with a broken ribcage, beaten unconscious with a metal chair. He watched his first wife go off with his own father, watched another die after she drank poison to try and induce a miscarriage. The only woman he ever really loved poisoned him at the breakfast table; he woke up in hospital that afternoon and never saw her again.
'I play the blues,' he says during a whiskey break. 'But I don't ever get the blues. After my sister died I prayed to God to please let me live like a tree. Tree don't care if them other trees is dyin'. Tree don't care about nothin'. When they raped and killed that white lady, I felt bad - she was a good old white lady - but I didn't let it get me down. I don't let nothin' get me down.' Most people can't do this - stay happy because they've decided to be happy, no matter what - but it seems to work for T-Model.
As the sun goes down, three men are inside T-Model's Lincoln, rifling it for something to steal. Vehicles are drawing up to buy crack from a young man in a 'Jesus' T-shirt. An old man with a bowler hat and mad yellow eyes is coming towards me, trying to polish a peach on his leg as if it were an apple and leaving long smears of juice on his red slacks. He grabs at my shirt and demands money for gin. Another man is threatening Spam with a wine bottle, and T-Model is yelling, 'Get your hand out my pocket, motherfucker, I already give you two dollar!'
I pack up the gear, get T-Model behind the wheel, Spam in the back and we scramble out of there with everyone yelling and grabbing at the car. 'Man, they some beggin' motherfuckers around here,' says T- Model. He drops me off at the Fat Possum offices and drives off towards the trailer at the recording studio, where he and Spam are staying.
An hour later, I recount this to Matthew Johnson and he says, 'So you don't know for sure that T-Model is in the trailer? We'd better drive out there and check.' There's no sign of T-Model at the trailer or at the Texaco station where he has been courting a woman.
'I can't believe he'd go back to that porch,' I say.
'Are you kidding?' says Johnson. 'That's his normal, everyday reality. I'll bet he's back there, happy as a clam.' And sure enough, there he is, about three-quarters drunk and playing to a bigger crowd.
What does a blues label do when the blues is over? With the help of parent company, Epitaph, who saved them from bankruptcy in 1996, Fat Possum managed to get Solomon Burke, the great deep soul singer, to record a collection of songs written for him by Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, Van Morrison, Brian Wilson and others. The album, Don't Give up on Me , won a Grammy and has sold 300,000 worldwide.
Johnson also managed to sign The Black Keys, a lo-fi punk blues band, akin to The White Stripes. Last year was Fat Possum's most successful but it didn't furnish them with much confidence. Solomon Burke was a once-in-a-lifetime coup, they almost lost The Black Keys - and nothing else they released made any real money.
Matthew Johnson and Bruce Watson spend their days scrambling and hustling, trying to cook up new schemes to stay in business. Having released every scrap of music recorded by the late Junior Kimbrough, they are now trying to put together a Kimbrough tribute album. Johnson is trying to persuade the RZA, the hip hop producer from Wu- Tang Clan, to contribute to the new R.L. Burnside remix project, and coax a little more out of Kid Rock. Fat Possum has signed Grandpa Boy, a new band formed by Paul Westerberg from The Replacements. From a bankrupt record label, they have bought a vault of southern rural 1960s blues, so Fat Possum can keep putting out great blues.
'I saw a guy on TV juggling a meat cleaver, a tomato and a bowling ball,' says Johnson. 'That's how I feel most of the time but what else am I going to do? When I started out, I didn't know what I was doing. Now I don't know how to do anything else. I don't have any choice but to carry on and hope a meat cleaver doesn't slice off my toes.'
· While this issue was going to press, Charles 'Cadillac' Caldwell died.
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
Hello Grandfather. I know I should be spending more time on my music, and I'm glad to report I had the rare treat of playing music with a long-time collaborator on Saturday night. There aren't a lot of people around that I was playing with thirty years ago. Butch Coulter comes from Lennoxville, the next town down from our home town, Sherbrooke. He was passing through Toronto from his home in Hamburg, Germany and we did a little house concert at the Downtown Jazz office.
It was just like the duo gigs we did in Czech Republic and Germany last year (I'm going to try to do that again with Butch in April or May). We had a small but very appreciative audience. I'd rather have a small crowd that was listening than a big crowd that wasn't. These folks came to hear music (and, as Elaine Overholt said, who want to love you). Thank goodness Butch brought a gang.
There were no music industry honchos as we had the last couple of times though somebody said Gord Downie was going to come. He didn't. But we had, I'm sure, a few people who do not necessarily care for blues, walk out of there grinning from ear to ear. Actually there was one guy in the audience I'll never forget. Mory the Sockman. He's promoting a big blues "Superbowl" extravaganza on Jan 31 and he was wanting me to promote his event, which I'm glad to do. It's my mandate, though the only events I have trouble promoting are my own. What a character! He was giving the ladies socks with their astrological sign embroidered. It turns out he's a super blues fan who's been keeping the feet of local bluesguys warm for years - starting with Downchild. And he had a great compliment for me - he said wouldn't normally enjoy just a guitar and harmonica (he like a rockin' blues band) but that he thoroughly enjoyed our show.
On Monday night I hooked up with Butch at the Orbit Room. Kevin Breitt was playing with Sisters Euclid with John Dickie as special guest. A little bird told me that they've recorded an album to be released on NorthernBlues just before mine. That's a good thing, I think, because if any reviewers might have thought that my album isn't mainstream blues enough, I think this work will remind people that there are many kinds of blues. Kevin is playing like he always does - on the edge, and that's what people love about him. John Dickie sang three songs - I guess they're all on the album. Can't wait to hear it. Rod Phillips was there - I only wish he'd been up on stage playing that B3. It's a "house organ," and every organist in town wants to play a club that has a great B3. Rod and I (with Mike Fitzpatrick) have done a lot of gigs together and I always feel bad for Rod moving around that huge Leslie and a not-so-small organ. I'll always remember the summer I played the jazz festival and had two nights in the small tent with organ supplied. Rod looked so smug as the rest of us were loading in and he had nothing but a briefcase. But now that I think of it, the Leslie never worked properly. One night it wouldn't change speeds and the next night it wouldn't spin at all. Rod still sounded great.
I always try to includes some kind of TIP for musicians when I post a blog, and I may have passed this along already but I was told at the OCFF conference that the best time to call a local radio show host before you play in their town is two weeks in advance. That's to set up an in-studio interview or at least to remind them to play a track and promote your show. Speaking of tips for musicians, this is a goldmine.
It was just like the duo gigs we did in Czech Republic and Germany last year (I'm going to try to do that again with Butch in April or May). We had a small but very appreciative audience. I'd rather have a small crowd that was listening than a big crowd that wasn't. These folks came to hear music (and, as Elaine Overholt said, who want to love you). Thank goodness Butch brought a gang.
There were no music industry honchos as we had the last couple of times though somebody said Gord Downie was going to come. He didn't. But we had, I'm sure, a few people who do not necessarily care for blues, walk out of there grinning from ear to ear. Actually there was one guy in the audience I'll never forget. Mory the Sockman. He's promoting a big blues "Superbowl" extravaganza on Jan 31 and he was wanting me to promote his event, which I'm glad to do. It's my mandate, though the only events I have trouble promoting are my own. What a character! He was giving the ladies socks with their astrological sign embroidered. It turns out he's a super blues fan who's been keeping the feet of local bluesguys warm for years - starting with Downchild. And he had a great compliment for me - he said wouldn't normally enjoy just a guitar and harmonica (he like a rockin' blues band) but that he thoroughly enjoyed our show.
On Monday night I hooked up with Butch at the Orbit Room. Kevin Breitt was playing with Sisters Euclid with John Dickie as special guest. A little bird told me that they've recorded an album to be released on NorthernBlues just before mine. That's a good thing, I think, because if any reviewers might have thought that my album isn't mainstream blues enough, I think this work will remind people that there are many kinds of blues. Kevin is playing like he always does - on the edge, and that's what people love about him. John Dickie sang three songs - I guess they're all on the album. Can't wait to hear it. Rod Phillips was there - I only wish he'd been up on stage playing that B3. It's a "house organ," and every organist in town wants to play a club that has a great B3. Rod and I (with Mike Fitzpatrick) have done a lot of gigs together and I always feel bad for Rod moving around that huge Leslie and a not-so-small organ. I'll always remember the summer I played the jazz festival and had two nights in the small tent with organ supplied. Rod looked so smug as the rest of us were loading in and he had nothing but a briefcase. But now that I think of it, the Leslie never worked properly. One night it wouldn't change speeds and the next night it wouldn't spin at all. Rod still sounded great.
I always try to includes some kind of TIP for musicians when I post a blog, and I may have passed this along already but I was told at the OCFF conference that the best time to call a local radio show host before you play in their town is two weeks in advance. That's to set up an in-studio interview or at least to remind them to play a track and promote your show. Speaking of tips for musicians, this is a goldmine.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Los Straightjackets come to town
Hello Grandfather. You would not believe the show I just came from at the Horseshoe Tavern. This was a surf band playing instrumental versions of the corniest Christmas songs. They are called Los Staightjackets and they were hillarious! Surf music is this loud, twangy sound that wasn't invented till long after you had passed from this mortal coil. The fellow introducing the songs spoke an unrecognizable, vaguely spanish, dialect ...except when he came to the English words, they would sound completely normal.
The band wore rubber masks like some professional wrestlers do these days (wrestling, also, has changed considerably from what you may remember). Then, as the band plays the surf version of "Frosty The Snowman," three scantily-clad dancers strut onto the stage and feign a snowball fight then pull out a cardboard cut-out of a big saw and cut down a Christmas tree and take it home to decorate. They come back with the tree wrapped in tinsel and they re-appear every few songs with increasingly revealing outfits. As the girls began to bare all you noticed that a couple of them had gotten really carried away at the tattoo parlour (yes, women get tattoos nowadays).
I figured you would enjoy hearing about some of the great bands that pass through Toronto, but things have changed a lot since you arrived in Sherbrooke, Quebec in 1918 as a musician, bandleader and then theatre-owner. I wish I had known you in those days, but all I remember is a frail old man, dying of prostate cancer and suffering considerably. Do you know the medical establishment has come to the conclusion that anything they do to treat this disease will not prolong your life much longer than it would take to die from the disease. All the various treatments did was put you through a lot of unnecessary misery in your final days. Best to just let it take its course. I can only imagine what kind of surgery and/or treatments you went through.
One of my loyal readers has asked why I've started with the "grandfather thing." I used to just write the occasional journal entry about my struggles in the music scene, trying to make a record, etc. But I was rambling on and on, showing off all the important people I knew or saw - sometimes passing along some good tips for people that might be on the same journey as me, but mostly blowing my own horn. I needed to be a bit more *serious* (not my nature). Then I came upon a great photo of you lately and want to scan it and make a nice big print and give it to my sister for Christmas. The photo shows you in a very jovial mood - I'm very anxious to show it to the rest of the family, too. Then, right around the same time, I was at the Aboriginal Music Awards. It took place in a big fancy theatre and they began the evening with a prayer...and the prayer was directed to "Grandfather". It was a very moving prayer and it made a big impression on me. I needed to have a little more respect for my elders. And you certainly commanded respect - if not fear. Amazing how things come together like that. I think adressing my late-night ramblings to you will force a little clarity and brevity. I know you did not suffer fools gladly. This will be a good thing to keep me focused.
So what else have I done lately. Well, on Saturday night I went to see Duke Robillard. He is a guitar player's guitar player. And his band was so tight! You only get this tight when you rehearse a lot or you play all the time (and I don't know anybody over 20 who rehearses a lot). These guys are just continuously on the road. I was introduced to Duke on the break but he was not very talkative. I found out tonight that he was not happy about the booming bass that was leaking through the floor from the club downstairs. Still, he played great and I was making mental notes about how he had worked out the intros to some songs and other arrangement ideas. He'll be back in town as our special guest at the Maple Blues Awards. He's won a couple already and he's once again nominated for "International Artist of the Year". Doug James played some amazing sax, though I still miss Duke's other sax player, Gordon Beadle (Sax Gordon) who is one of those musicians that when he starts into a solo, it's a comittment - his promise to you, the listener, that this solo is going to go someplace. And it always does, usually building to a high sustained climax that brings an audience to their feet.
Hey I promised in my last post that I was going to do some music everyday between now and December 22 (which is when I'm supposed to be finished this album). But not tonight. Time for some zzzzzzzzzzz's. Goodnight, Granpa
The band wore rubber masks like some professional wrestlers do these days (wrestling, also, has changed considerably from what you may remember). Then, as the band plays the surf version of "Frosty The Snowman," three scantily-clad dancers strut onto the stage and feign a snowball fight then pull out a cardboard cut-out of a big saw and cut down a Christmas tree and take it home to decorate. They come back with the tree wrapped in tinsel and they re-appear every few songs with increasingly revealing outfits. As the girls began to bare all you noticed that a couple of them had gotten really carried away at the tattoo parlour (yes, women get tattoos nowadays).
I figured you would enjoy hearing about some of the great bands that pass through Toronto, but things have changed a lot since you arrived in Sherbrooke, Quebec in 1918 as a musician, bandleader and then theatre-owner. I wish I had known you in those days, but all I remember is a frail old man, dying of prostate cancer and suffering considerably. Do you know the medical establishment has come to the conclusion that anything they do to treat this disease will not prolong your life much longer than it would take to die from the disease. All the various treatments did was put you through a lot of unnecessary misery in your final days. Best to just let it take its course. I can only imagine what kind of surgery and/or treatments you went through.
One of my loyal readers has asked why I've started with the "grandfather thing." I used to just write the occasional journal entry about my struggles in the music scene, trying to make a record, etc. But I was rambling on and on, showing off all the important people I knew or saw - sometimes passing along some good tips for people that might be on the same journey as me, but mostly blowing my own horn. I needed to be a bit more *serious* (not my nature). Then I came upon a great photo of you lately and want to scan it and make a nice big print and give it to my sister for Christmas. The photo shows you in a very jovial mood - I'm very anxious to show it to the rest of the family, too. Then, right around the same time, I was at the Aboriginal Music Awards. It took place in a big fancy theatre and they began the evening with a prayer...and the prayer was directed to "Grandfather". It was a very moving prayer and it made a big impression on me. I needed to have a little more respect for my elders. And you certainly commanded respect - if not fear. Amazing how things come together like that. I think adressing my late-night ramblings to you will force a little clarity and brevity. I know you did not suffer fools gladly. This will be a good thing to keep me focused.
So what else have I done lately. Well, on Saturday night I went to see Duke Robillard. He is a guitar player's guitar player. And his band was so tight! You only get this tight when you rehearse a lot or you play all the time (and I don't know anybody over 20 who rehearses a lot). These guys are just continuously on the road. I was introduced to Duke on the break but he was not very talkative. I found out tonight that he was not happy about the booming bass that was leaking through the floor from the club downstairs. Still, he played great and I was making mental notes about how he had worked out the intros to some songs and other arrangement ideas. He'll be back in town as our special guest at the Maple Blues Awards. He's won a couple already and he's once again nominated for "International Artist of the Year". Doug James played some amazing sax, though I still miss Duke's other sax player, Gordon Beadle (Sax Gordon) who is one of those musicians that when he starts into a solo, it's a comittment - his promise to you, the listener, that this solo is going to go someplace. And it always does, usually building to a high sustained climax that brings an audience to their feet.
Hey I promised in my last post that I was going to do some music everyday between now and December 22 (which is when I'm supposed to be finished this album). But not tonight. Time for some zzzzzzzzzzz's. Goodnight, Granpa
Thursday, December 4, 2003
November 2003 Update
Hello Grandfather. It's been a very busy month but I'm ashamed to say not much of it spent on my own music. My R.C.P. (Record Company President) is trekking about in Southeast Asia and I've promised him a finished (if not mixed) album when he gets back on December 22. I promise starting Monday I will work on the album *every* day - note that I didn't specify how much time every day.
Still, I shouldn't be discouraged because we are progressing. I just had a mild disagreement with my son Joel as he is is installing MIDI drivers so that he can work on a remix of one of my tunes. That was one of the things I had hoped I might include on this album. If he wants to be a producer re-mixer, who better to remix than his own dad??? Actually, I'm probably not his first choice of candidates for remixing and he'd hate it if he knew I was talking about him but not to worry, he'll never be up here reading this. The other thing I wanted to do was have an instrumental track and I don't yet. Well, maybe. I wanted to do an instrumental version of "God Bless the Child" with Harry Manx on mohan veena but in the end, I ended up singing on it. I should listen to it without a vocal and see...
Hey, Joel just called me back to figure out the MIDI configuration and I fired up "God Bless", turned off the vocal and It sounded pretty sweet - I could record another guitar over that and it might work! I'll let you know how it turned out.
I haven't spent hardly any time on the recording in the last month, and haven't been hustling gigs either. But on Monday, I got to play with a fabulous group of musicians - I had Ken Whiteley, Mark "Bird" Stafford, Chris Murphy, Gary Kendall, Lily Sazz and the irrepressible Bucky Berger on drums. He's the drummer that's always smiling ear to ear, and I told him at the end what a great honour it was to be on the same stage as his smiling face. Likewise for many of the other players. The only other time I played with Ken was a hotel room in Sudbury.
A strange thing happened when I was standing at the door of the Silver Dollar. A street person was talking to Linda Turu and when I came up, he asked me what size pants I wore. Trying to be friendly, I said "40" and he said "well these are 42 but they look like they'll fit you. Ten dollars." I looked at the pants and they were brand new - looked like a sample with tags but no label. Nice thick material, too. Some might think it's bad karma or something but I look at it as a gift from the gods. I've been needing a new pair of pants for months (some friends might say years) and I just had a good feeling about these pants. Here's the really weird thing: As he walks away with my $10, I say "what's in the box?" and he runs back and says "CDs - you can have them for five dollars" I look in the box and there's about ten or twelve Jay Douglas CDs (did I mention I had just shared the stage with Jay Douglas, too!). I walked down Spadina with the homeless guy and Derek Andrews, "raison d'etre" of the gig at the Dollar, to find the spot where he picked up the box. We expected to find a car broken into, but there was nothing. Next day, we found out Jay probably left his car unlocked. The homeless guy came back at the very end of the evening, as we were packing up, and now he wanted to sell me a bottle of perfume and he was relentless. He would not stop until I was about to drive away, then he turned away in disgust. I told him "you already got fifteen bucks from me!" (I had given him another five for the CD's). Anyway, did I mention the pants fit perfectly.
Enough about me - let's talk about some of the great music I got to hear this month. Starting with last night, I was at the Thee-a-tah - more your style, Grandpere...balconies all around. This theatre is recent construction, I think, but with great respect for theatre tradition. It's called the Bluma Appel Theatre. The show was "Cookin' at the Cookery" a musical about the life of Alberta Adams. Jackie Richardson is the name immediately associated with it but I was equally and surprisingly knocked out by her co-star, Montego Glover.
After the show I dropped in at The Reservoir Lounge to see my old buddy Scott Cushnie, "Professor Piano." He was playing those old swing favourites with Bradley and the Bouncers (they play every Wednedsday and they pack the place). Scott was in good form - wants me to hear his soon-to-be released CD. I asked him to come and do an evening with me at the Downtown Jazz House Concert. We can only fit 30 or so, but it's perfect because it has a little PA system and a real piano.
COMMERCIAL: If the date isn't past by the time you read this...Saturday, Dec 13 my guest is harp player Butch Coulter. He's come all the way from Hamburg Germany and plays all over Europe with Long John Baldry. One time he got me to sub for Papa John King backing up Baldry at a club in Ornageville, I think. I didn't get to meet the Tall Guy until we hit the stage and the first thing he said to me after we'd played a couple of tunes was "You'll have to turn down there, Brian" - in a big booming voice. This is still the commercial, anyway. Don't forget, 82 Bleecker St, one block east of Sherbourne just north of Carleton. Show is 8-11pm. Reservations appreciated 416-928-2033.
Did I mention I've become a peace activist, grandfather. Well, not activist - but at least supporting those that are doing the real work by giving then a little entertainment and disversion. I played a benefit concert for Project Ploughshares in Hamilton. It was a beautiful gig - in a cathedral, no less. Michelle & Lily backed me up. There was a fabulous young jazz band there called the Hamilton All-Stars or something like that.
Last week I dropped in to Healeys (where I will be hosting the Toronto Blues Society Guitar Workshop on Sunday Afternoon, February 29.) It was Jeff Healey's regular Thursday Night and his special guest was James Cotton. I arrived pretty late and I've got the feeling that the energy was winding down instead of up. I didn't hear much, really
I finished my last post saying I was heading out to hear Popa Chubby and that I would be playing a couple of dates in Stratford with Harry Manx. Well I never got to see Popa Chubby (I'm so embarrased to say why - I didn't realize it was an early show and I got there late). I did however have a great time spending the next few days with Harry Manx, in a luxurious "boutique" style hotel called the Mercer Hall Inn. The audiences were great and I received the nicest compliment from a great singer called Ally who lives out that way. She said "I could name every song in your set and could tell what the story was for each one - that doesn't happen to me very often". Boy they treated us great up there.
A few nights later, Harry arrived at my place in Toronto and I had a couple of comps for a Ricky Lee Jones show at the Phoenix - I was hung up at a co-op meeting and so we didn't get there till the encore - it was gorgeaous, though and when I commented that the usually noisy Phoenix crowd had dropped dead silent Harry said "She must have won them over early in the show." It was just her and her guitar for one slow song but it really gave a complete picture of the energy and vibe of theis gal.
Who else did I see in Nov? (*I may add to this)
Still, I shouldn't be discouraged because we are progressing. I just had a mild disagreement with my son Joel as he is is installing MIDI drivers so that he can work on a remix of one of my tunes. That was one of the things I had hoped I might include on this album. If he wants to be a producer re-mixer, who better to remix than his own dad??? Actually, I'm probably not his first choice of candidates for remixing and he'd hate it if he knew I was talking about him but not to worry, he'll never be up here reading this. The other thing I wanted to do was have an instrumental track and I don't yet. Well, maybe. I wanted to do an instrumental version of "God Bless the Child" with Harry Manx on mohan veena but in the end, I ended up singing on it. I should listen to it without a vocal and see...
Hey, Joel just called me back to figure out the MIDI configuration and I fired up "God Bless", turned off the vocal and It sounded pretty sweet - I could record another guitar over that and it might work! I'll let you know how it turned out.
I haven't spent hardly any time on the recording in the last month, and haven't been hustling gigs either. But on Monday, I got to play with a fabulous group of musicians - I had Ken Whiteley, Mark "Bird" Stafford, Chris Murphy, Gary Kendall, Lily Sazz and the irrepressible Bucky Berger on drums. He's the drummer that's always smiling ear to ear, and I told him at the end what a great honour it was to be on the same stage as his smiling face. Likewise for many of the other players. The only other time I played with Ken was a hotel room in Sudbury.
A strange thing happened when I was standing at the door of the Silver Dollar. A street person was talking to Linda Turu and when I came up, he asked me what size pants I wore. Trying to be friendly, I said "40" and he said "well these are 42 but they look like they'll fit you. Ten dollars." I looked at the pants and they were brand new - looked like a sample with tags but no label. Nice thick material, too. Some might think it's bad karma or something but I look at it as a gift from the gods. I've been needing a new pair of pants for months (some friends might say years) and I just had a good feeling about these pants. Here's the really weird thing: As he walks away with my $10, I say "what's in the box?" and he runs back and says "CDs - you can have them for five dollars" I look in the box and there's about ten or twelve Jay Douglas CDs (did I mention I had just shared the stage with Jay Douglas, too!). I walked down Spadina with the homeless guy and Derek Andrews, "raison d'etre" of the gig at the Dollar, to find the spot where he picked up the box. We expected to find a car broken into, but there was nothing. Next day, we found out Jay probably left his car unlocked. The homeless guy came back at the very end of the evening, as we were packing up, and now he wanted to sell me a bottle of perfume and he was relentless. He would not stop until I was about to drive away, then he turned away in disgust. I told him "you already got fifteen bucks from me!" (I had given him another five for the CD's). Anyway, did I mention the pants fit perfectly.
Enough about me - let's talk about some of the great music I got to hear this month. Starting with last night, I was at the Thee-a-tah - more your style, Grandpere...balconies all around. This theatre is recent construction, I think, but with great respect for theatre tradition. It's called the Bluma Appel Theatre. The show was "Cookin' at the Cookery" a musical about the life of Alberta Adams. Jackie Richardson is the name immediately associated with it but I was equally and surprisingly knocked out by her co-star, Montego Glover.
After the show I dropped in at The Reservoir Lounge to see my old buddy Scott Cushnie, "Professor Piano." He was playing those old swing favourites with Bradley and the Bouncers (they play every Wednedsday and they pack the place). Scott was in good form - wants me to hear his soon-to-be released CD. I asked him to come and do an evening with me at the Downtown Jazz House Concert. We can only fit 30 or so, but it's perfect because it has a little PA system and a real piano.
COMMERCIAL: If the date isn't past by the time you read this...Saturday, Dec 13 my guest is harp player Butch Coulter. He's come all the way from Hamburg Germany and plays all over Europe with Long John Baldry. One time he got me to sub for Papa John King backing up Baldry at a club in Ornageville, I think. I didn't get to meet the Tall Guy until we hit the stage and the first thing he said to me after we'd played a couple of tunes was "You'll have to turn down there, Brian" - in a big booming voice. This is still the commercial, anyway. Don't forget, 82 Bleecker St, one block east of Sherbourne just north of Carleton. Show is 8-11pm. Reservations appreciated 416-928-2033.
Did I mention I've become a peace activist, grandfather. Well, not activist - but at least supporting those that are doing the real work by giving then a little entertainment and disversion. I played a benefit concert for Project Ploughshares in Hamilton. It was a beautiful gig - in a cathedral, no less. Michelle & Lily backed me up. There was a fabulous young jazz band there called the Hamilton All-Stars or something like that.
Last week I dropped in to Healeys (where I will be hosting the Toronto Blues Society Guitar Workshop on Sunday Afternoon, February 29.) It was Jeff Healey's regular Thursday Night and his special guest was James Cotton. I arrived pretty late and I've got the feeling that the energy was winding down instead of up. I didn't hear much, really
I finished my last post saying I was heading out to hear Popa Chubby and that I would be playing a couple of dates in Stratford with Harry Manx. Well I never got to see Popa Chubby (I'm so embarrased to say why - I didn't realize it was an early show and I got there late). I did however have a great time spending the next few days with Harry Manx, in a luxurious "boutique" style hotel called the Mercer Hall Inn. The audiences were great and I received the nicest compliment from a great singer called Ally who lives out that way. She said "I could name every song in your set and could tell what the story was for each one - that doesn't happen to me very often". Boy they treated us great up there.
A few nights later, Harry arrived at my place in Toronto and I had a couple of comps for a Ricky Lee Jones show at the Phoenix - I was hung up at a co-op meeting and so we didn't get there till the encore - it was gorgeaous, though and when I commented that the usually noisy Phoenix crowd had dropped dead silent Harry said "She must have won them over early in the show." It was just her and her guitar for one slow song but it really gave a complete picture of the energy and vibe of theis gal.
Who else did I see in Nov? (*I may add to this)
Saturday, November 1, 2003
End of October
Signing off for October. What a music-filled month. Last night, to cap it off, I went down to the Senator to see a guitarist called Doug Wambal. He can do it all, and he gives the audience a taste of everything.
The night before was my first house concert at Downtown Jazz this year (I'm doing two more - Nov 20 and Dec 13). I've got to promote these a little better. There wasn't more than 20 people - a small but illustrious audience including the head of the music section at the Canada Council, a pioneer music publicist, head of a benevolent trust for musicians and artistic directors of five Canadian jazz festivals including my own boss, Pat Taylor of Downtown Jazz. This was totally unplanned, but it turned out the house concert was the same day that all these AD's were in Toronto for the big Sponsor announcement. I was at the media launch at the Design Exchange - when they rolled out the new logo, they had bright lights, loud noises and the room filled with confetti. After they picked the confetti out of the piano, Molly Johnson did a couple of tunes. One festival director from the prairies couldn't wait to get out of Toronto, so I didn't expect to see her.
Lily and I had a great time playing the house concert, but I won't expect any of those festival guys to remember too much. They were mostly talking in the kitchen, - they were not "on duty" - in fact, they were distiinctly "off duty". I captured some footage of one of the guys trying to play "Stairway to Heaven" on my guitar - I thought it might make good blackmail material if I ever need a gig in his town.
On the 29th, I had the pleasure of opening for Harry Manx at Hugh's Room. Harry is getting amazing media coverage these days - everytime I see him, he's juggling interviews. That may have something to do with the fact that he's playing in a different town every night - and each one of those towns has a paper that wants a story. One interview that was apparently right down to the wire went on and on - I couldn't believe how long they talked. Somebody's going to have to edit that!
As I was setting up I was chatting with a couple of CBC guys who were there to interview Harry for "The Blues" radio series. Harry left his harmonica rack back at my place and had to drive across town to get it - he probably had two phone interviews while he did the run.
I heard a little preview of Harry's next album, and it is quite phenomenal...meanwhile, I'm still working on my album, hoping to wrap it up for a Feb release - having fun doing guitar overdubs and brightening it up a bit. Still don't know how we're going to deal with the mixing and mastering.
This little flurry of gigs reminded that my guitar playing gets easier and sharper when I've had the chance to play for a couple days in a row.
Tonight I'm off to see David Rotundo at Grossman's and Popa Chubby at the Silver Dollar. Monday I head to Stratford for a couple of dates with Harry... and November here we come!
The night before was my first house concert at Downtown Jazz this year (I'm doing two more - Nov 20 and Dec 13). I've got to promote these a little better. There wasn't more than 20 people - a small but illustrious audience including the head of the music section at the Canada Council, a pioneer music publicist, head of a benevolent trust for musicians and artistic directors of five Canadian jazz festivals including my own boss, Pat Taylor of Downtown Jazz. This was totally unplanned, but it turned out the house concert was the same day that all these AD's were in Toronto for the big Sponsor announcement. I was at the media launch at the Design Exchange - when they rolled out the new logo, they had bright lights, loud noises and the room filled with confetti. After they picked the confetti out of the piano, Molly Johnson did a couple of tunes. One festival director from the prairies couldn't wait to get out of Toronto, so I didn't expect to see her.
Lily and I had a great time playing the house concert, but I won't expect any of those festival guys to remember too much. They were mostly talking in the kitchen, - they were not "on duty" - in fact, they were distiinctly "off duty". I captured some footage of one of the guys trying to play "Stairway to Heaven" on my guitar - I thought it might make good blackmail material if I ever need a gig in his town.
On the 29th, I had the pleasure of opening for Harry Manx at Hugh's Room. Harry is getting amazing media coverage these days - everytime I see him, he's juggling interviews. That may have something to do with the fact that he's playing in a different town every night - and each one of those towns has a paper that wants a story. One interview that was apparently right down to the wire went on and on - I couldn't believe how long they talked. Somebody's going to have to edit that!
As I was setting up I was chatting with a couple of CBC guys who were there to interview Harry for "The Blues" radio series. Harry left his harmonica rack back at my place and had to drive across town to get it - he probably had two phone interviews while he did the run.
I heard a little preview of Harry's next album, and it is quite phenomenal...meanwhile, I'm still working on my album, hoping to wrap it up for a Feb release - having fun doing guitar overdubs and brightening it up a bit. Still don't know how we're going to deal with the mixing and mastering.
This little flurry of gigs reminded that my guitar playing gets easier and sharper when I've had the chance to play for a couple days in a row.
Tonight I'm off to see David Rotundo at Grossman's and Popa Chubby at the Silver Dollar. Monday I head to Stratford for a couple of dates with Harry... and November here we come!
Thursday, October 23, 2003
Just back from the Ontario Council of Folk Festivals conference in Sudbury where I had a great old time even though (whine, whine) I was not selected to showcase and the song I submitted did not win the "Song from the Heart" contest.
As we were driving up, my travelling companion Michael Wrycraft mentions that he was on the selection committee...Whaaat! ...and it turns out I know all of the damn committee! Once again, proof positive that it's *not* "who you know."
Paul came by this afternoon to get my studio set up - I added a couple of new devices and trying to get them "in the loop". He's been on the road non stop so I was glad to have him here for a couple of hours to straighten out a few things. He helped me get the MIDI running too, though I'm sure he thinks it's just another vehicle to enable my "fear of completion."
While I was out, he ran a couple of the tunes through some mastering tools to show me how the sound could be improved. It sounds pretty good already, but this did make it a little less boxy. Now I can play these tracks on some different sound systems and make sure my monitors are not hyping us. Bax (my producer) sent a "how's it goin?" email. Fred (my record company) hasn't been in touch lately and everytime he calls me from the 401 and asks me to meet him, I'm sure that he's about to tell me that the deal is off, but so far, he's been very supportive. I'm sure he has his limit, but we all agree that there's no point releasing an album before I have some gigs in place, so we're now looking at a February release. I definitely want some copies to distribute at the Blues Summit at the end of January. For the OCFF conference, I burned a few with 4 songs each, two with original mixes and two re-worked versions
Back to the conference, I'm still intent on playing for the folk audience rather than the hard-core blues audience. There was some blues at the conference and Harrison Kennedy was one blues guy that made a big impression. His showcase seemed quite short, he started with a work song singing and playing a shaker. After that he did something on guitar then quickly went back to a blues "sing-a-long" with harmonica accompaniment. Then it was over - he got a great reaction. Other showcasing artists who knocked me out were Chris Demeanour and a lady called Allana (both from Manitoba, I think)
We had our own little blues enclave in 221. Lily had her piano set up and I brought a bass - and glad I did! The first night I was jamming with a high-energy kid called Dan Frechette. He brought a mandolin and played the hell out of it - I found out later from his manager, the legendary Mitch Podolak, that he's only been playing mandolin for a few months. Amazing.
Podolak was the founder of the Winnipeg Folk Festival and I found myself around a lot of Winnipeg folks. I asked them all if they had ever heard about an RCMP narcotics officer who had infiltrated the Winnipeg Music scene in the seventies by playing in a band and had then busted half the rock musicians in town. Nobody could verify that legend - too bad, because I've got a tune I wrote back then called "Winnipeg Nark" and I'd like to know if there's any truth to it. I'm sure I didn't just make up the story. I'm one of those rare songwriters who does his research *after* he writes the song. Ken W chided me when he heard one of my songs that starts with the line "In Nineteen Thirty-Five or Six"...Can't you nail that down?
I had a great time playing with Harrison Kennedy himself, Mo Kauffey, Doc McLean, Ken Whiteley and even Paul James dropped by. Flo saw him playing at a bar in Downtown Sudbury and invited him back to the hotel. He'd never seen a "music conference." We got busted on the second night - boyish, but burly, security guard walked into the room and asked. "Smokin up in here???" Everybody held their breath. Then he asked if we would please keep the windows open!!! Sure, no problem.
The most fun I had was when the London group Mosaic dropped by our room and launched into some amazing harmonies and I found myself (scat)singing along. I *never* do that, but I must be changed forever by that vocal workshop I did with Elaine Overholt a couple of weeks ago. I was finally ready to just let my voice pour out - and it did.
I also had a little session with Liam Titcomb, who is on the fast track to the big time, and who's grown musically as the entire folk community watched (his dad is Brent Titcomb, a veritable guru of the folk scene - and his mom happens to be my Reiki Master). I lured him to my room with a song idea and we jammed a bit with it - now I have to follow up and have another session with him. That will be tricky knowing his schedule, but we'll see.
What did I get out of this conference? Well, let me pass along a few "tips":
When you head into an interview, you should have three things in mind that you want to get across, whether or not you are asked.
Radio guys like to have a CD sized insert that gives a short description of each song - nor do they want to receive an entire press kit. A CD and a little sheet as described above is all they care about.
Call the local radio show two weeks before an appearance in their town to set up an interview, or at least to get something played
When you plan out your showcase set, also plan what you're going to say and when you're going to say it. (That's advice I'll have trouble following)
The day after we got back, The Toronto Blues Society announced the nominees for the Maple Blues Awards and the dates for the Blues Summit. If you're interested in either visit www.torontobluessociety.com Congratulations to all the nominees.
Yesterday, Harry Manx came through town on his way to Montreal. He stopped at the house long enough to re-dress the wiring in his rack - he bought a new preamp - and I left him in my kitchen as I took off to a "casino party" at my agent's office. They had rented all kinds of gambling equipment and everybody that arrived got $10,000 in funny money, which we then used to buy chips. I learned a lot about playing blackjack but I did better at roulette. They've gotten me a lot of work at the Woodbine Racetrack (their biggest client, I discover) but for all the times I've been, I've never made a bet...
So what else have I been up to since my last post???
I've booked a series of house concerts at the Downtown Jazz office - I did this before and it was a very nice setup - there's a built in PA system and a piano, too. When you push aside the big board table there's room for 30 or so. Tomorrow I'll be doing a "preview" concert but after this I play Oct 30 with Lily Sazz, Nov 20 with Paul Reddick and Dec 13 with Butch Coulter who'll be visiting from Germany. Next Thursday (Oct 29), I open for Harry at Hugh's Room and I do a couple more gigs with him. Hoping to keep up the momentum by scoring a few more concerts. Anybody out there interested in having Brian Blain entertaining them in their own living room??? Just ask.
As we were driving up, my travelling companion Michael Wrycraft mentions that he was on the selection committee...Whaaat! ...and it turns out I know all of the damn committee! Once again, proof positive that it's *not* "who you know."
Paul came by this afternoon to get my studio set up - I added a couple of new devices and trying to get them "in the loop". He's been on the road non stop so I was glad to have him here for a couple of hours to straighten out a few things. He helped me get the MIDI running too, though I'm sure he thinks it's just another vehicle to enable my "fear of completion."
While I was out, he ran a couple of the tunes through some mastering tools to show me how the sound could be improved. It sounds pretty good already, but this did make it a little less boxy. Now I can play these tracks on some different sound systems and make sure my monitors are not hyping us. Bax (my producer) sent a "how's it goin?" email. Fred (my record company) hasn't been in touch lately and everytime he calls me from the 401 and asks me to meet him, I'm sure that he's about to tell me that the deal is off, but so far, he's been very supportive. I'm sure he has his limit, but we all agree that there's no point releasing an album before I have some gigs in place, so we're now looking at a February release. I definitely want some copies to distribute at the Blues Summit at the end of January. For the OCFF conference, I burned a few with 4 songs each, two with original mixes and two re-worked versions
Back to the conference, I'm still intent on playing for the folk audience rather than the hard-core blues audience. There was some blues at the conference and Harrison Kennedy was one blues guy that made a big impression. His showcase seemed quite short, he started with a work song singing and playing a shaker. After that he did something on guitar then quickly went back to a blues "sing-a-long" with harmonica accompaniment. Then it was over - he got a great reaction. Other showcasing artists who knocked me out were Chris Demeanour and a lady called Allana (both from Manitoba, I think)
We had our own little blues enclave in 221. Lily had her piano set up and I brought a bass - and glad I did! The first night I was jamming with a high-energy kid called Dan Frechette. He brought a mandolin and played the hell out of it - I found out later from his manager, the legendary Mitch Podolak, that he's only been playing mandolin for a few months. Amazing.
Podolak was the founder of the Winnipeg Folk Festival and I found myself around a lot of Winnipeg folks. I asked them all if they had ever heard about an RCMP narcotics officer who had infiltrated the Winnipeg Music scene in the seventies by playing in a band and had then busted half the rock musicians in town. Nobody could verify that legend - too bad, because I've got a tune I wrote back then called "Winnipeg Nark" and I'd like to know if there's any truth to it. I'm sure I didn't just make up the story. I'm one of those rare songwriters who does his research *after* he writes the song. Ken W chided me when he heard one of my songs that starts with the line "In Nineteen Thirty-Five or Six"...Can't you nail that down?
I had a great time playing with Harrison Kennedy himself, Mo Kauffey, Doc McLean, Ken Whiteley and even Paul James dropped by. Flo saw him playing at a bar in Downtown Sudbury and invited him back to the hotel. He'd never seen a "music conference." We got busted on the second night - boyish, but burly, security guard walked into the room and asked. "Smokin up in here???" Everybody held their breath. Then he asked if we would please keep the windows open!!! Sure, no problem.
The most fun I had was when the London group Mosaic dropped by our room and launched into some amazing harmonies and I found myself (scat)singing along. I *never* do that, but I must be changed forever by that vocal workshop I did with Elaine Overholt a couple of weeks ago. I was finally ready to just let my voice pour out - and it did.
I also had a little session with Liam Titcomb, who is on the fast track to the big time, and who's grown musically as the entire folk community watched (his dad is Brent Titcomb, a veritable guru of the folk scene - and his mom happens to be my Reiki Master). I lured him to my room with a song idea and we jammed a bit with it - now I have to follow up and have another session with him. That will be tricky knowing his schedule, but we'll see.
What did I get out of this conference? Well, let me pass along a few "tips":
When you head into an interview, you should have three things in mind that you want to get across, whether or not you are asked.
Radio guys like to have a CD sized insert that gives a short description of each song - nor do they want to receive an entire press kit. A CD and a little sheet as described above is all they care about.
Call the local radio show two weeks before an appearance in their town to set up an interview, or at least to get something played
When you plan out your showcase set, also plan what you're going to say and when you're going to say it. (That's advice I'll have trouble following)
The day after we got back, The Toronto Blues Society announced the nominees for the Maple Blues Awards and the dates for the Blues Summit. If you're interested in either visit www.torontobluessociety.com Congratulations to all the nominees.
Yesterday, Harry Manx came through town on his way to Montreal. He stopped at the house long enough to re-dress the wiring in his rack - he bought a new preamp - and I left him in my kitchen as I took off to a "casino party" at my agent's office. They had rented all kinds of gambling equipment and everybody that arrived got $10,000 in funny money, which we then used to buy chips. I learned a lot about playing blackjack but I did better at roulette. They've gotten me a lot of work at the Woodbine Racetrack (their biggest client, I discover) but for all the times I've been, I've never made a bet...
So what else have I been up to since my last post???
I've booked a series of house concerts at the Downtown Jazz office - I did this before and it was a very nice setup - there's a built in PA system and a piano, too. When you push aside the big board table there's room for 30 or so. Tomorrow I'll be doing a "preview" concert but after this I play Oct 30 with Lily Sazz, Nov 20 with Paul Reddick and Dec 13 with Butch Coulter who'll be visiting from Germany. Next Thursday (Oct 29), I open for Harry at Hugh's Room and I do a couple more gigs with him. Hoping to keep up the momentum by scoring a few more concerts. Anybody out there interested in having Brian Blain entertaining them in their own living room??? Just ask.
Sunday, September 28, 2003
September is winding down fast and I had promised the overdubs would be done by the end of the month. But it's been an incredible flurry of musical activity for me to cover as the resident media mooch. I just got in from sitting in with a great musician from England, Steve Payne. Michael Pickett did a feature set as did a young woman called Sara. And, considering my luck at jams, I should be thankful that I got on at all. but I grabbed my guitar as the evening was winding down and did a couple of tunes with Steve.
I was trying to make up my mind which tune I would sing, but after we were into it for a little bit, i got the feeling that the only way I was going to sing is if I jump right in. Lucky for me, I had some lyrics that fit with the groove we were playing so I just started singing "Girlfriend Blues". I don't know if Steve was planning to launch into a vocal himself, after all, it was him that started playing that groove. Anyway, he seemed cool about it. I was glad that I made it down for his last appearance in Canada, but it reminded me why I don't go to these jams. This time I had been invited by Steve himself and I barely got to play. It is the assertive ones who get to play in these jams. But, on the other hand, I must be prepared. This time, I couldn't even decide which song(s) I should play. I should at least have a few tunes at hand, hopefully something people can play-along - maybe even sing along. That will come in handy since I just made arrangements to attend the Ontario Council of Folk Fetivals conference in Sudbury. I had a great time last time I attended one of these - non-stop jammin in the hallways of the hotel (on dedicated "music" floors)
One more obstacle between me and a finished album - but a wise move for the career. Too bad I'll have to pass on opening for Harry Manx at Readers Cafe in Dunville. I will be opening some other dates for him, though. Well, we'll press up some "preview" CDs to hand out to artisitic directors and whoever else. I hope I get invited to a couple of folk festivals next summer. It's always great to see someone who didn't think they would like the blues, but after hearing my version of the blues, they now loved the blues.
I was trying to make up my mind which tune I would sing, but after we were into it for a little bit, i got the feeling that the only way I was going to sing is if I jump right in. Lucky for me, I had some lyrics that fit with the groove we were playing so I just started singing "Girlfriend Blues". I don't know if Steve was planning to launch into a vocal himself, after all, it was him that started playing that groove. Anyway, he seemed cool about it. I was glad that I made it down for his last appearance in Canada, but it reminded me why I don't go to these jams. This time I had been invited by Steve himself and I barely got to play. It is the assertive ones who get to play in these jams. But, on the other hand, I must be prepared. This time, I couldn't even decide which song(s) I should play. I should at least have a few tunes at hand, hopefully something people can play-along - maybe even sing along. That will come in handy since I just made arrangements to attend the Ontario Council of Folk Fetivals conference in Sudbury. I had a great time last time I attended one of these - non-stop jammin in the hallways of the hotel (on dedicated "music" floors)
One more obstacle between me and a finished album - but a wise move for the career. Too bad I'll have to pass on opening for Harry Manx at Readers Cafe in Dunville. I will be opening some other dates for him, though. Well, we'll press up some "preview" CDs to hand out to artisitic directors and whoever else. I hope I get invited to a couple of folk festivals next summer. It's always great to see someone who didn't think they would like the blues, but after hearing my version of the blues, they now loved the blues.
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
Saturday Afternoon: When I left off on the last post, I was hoping I might schmooze my way into the film, "Festival Express" and at the last minute it worked out and I headed downtown at 2:30 in the afternoon. I was trying to think of the cheapest way to park but as I cruised along Shuter St, I saw the point where the free street parkling ended and the metered street parking began - Jarvis Street! So I walked 4 or 5 blocks then at the theatre, there's a huge lineup. I go to the front of the line to get my ticket from media gal Jane Harbury, but then I have to go back to the end of the line to wait. As I'm walking back I say hi to Ray Blake who I had chatted with at the party the previous night. He was part of Mashmakhan, a very big band in Montreal in the 70s - less known in Toronto. At the party, I had introduced him to Toronto music historian/musicologist/archivist Bill Munson who surprised him by telling him he owned several obscure 45s that Ray appeared on.
When the movie starts up, the first band to play is Mashmakhan, and there is Ray in his 70's glory. Looking very dapper. It must have been a great moment for him. I wonder how it was for some of the other "stakeholders" at that premiere. At one point in his remarks, the director said "To the guy that put it all together, wherever you are, Ken Walker...." and just then several people a few rows in front of me stand up and shout "He's right here" pointing to Ken Walker in the aisle seat. He takes a little bow, but as the producers walk back upo the aisle, I notice there is no contact as they walk right by him. No "hi-fives" here. I hear later from Rob Bowman that it's been a lot of struggles getting it out - all the footage for the Toronto concert had been stolen, and I just had the feeling that there was a lot of sour grapes still - after 30 years. Maybe some of them will recover the money they lost 30 years ago. The other partner, Thor Eaton, probably doesn't need the money.
The performances by Janis Joplin in the film are close-up, gritty, full-tilt Janis. The Band casts their spell and the look like they just drove up from Big Pink. The Grateful Dead are stars of the show - especially when they agree to put a couple of flat-bed trucks together outside the stadium and give a free concert to quell a riot. But where were Bonnie & Delaney? We see them jammin' on the train, but was the stage performance too rough? Traffic was also cut out because their songs were way too long and they wouldn't allow them to be edited.
Tuesday 5:30, The Rivoli: It's the CD Launch for the Gordon Lightfoot tribute album, and the house is stunned when Gordon himself is introduced from the stage by Grit Laskin. Word is he's not well, and he looks a little gaunt but he hung in right to the end - even going up to the stage to shake hands with Aengus Finnan who performed an original composition about Lightfoot and told how it helped him understand Canada (he came from U.K) James Keelaghan played a live rendition of the Canadian Railroad Trilogy - imagine doing that with Lightfoot himself in the audience. He pulled it off great. Interespersed between the live performances they played tracks from the album. It's hard enough to get the attention of a media schmooze audience when you're playing live - it's even harder to get them to shut up and listen to recorded music, even if it's a first like the Cowboy Junkies or Bruce Cockburn doing a Lightfoot song.
10:30 After attending two board meetings (my co-op and the end of the Blues Society meeting) I still have enough steam head up to the Iridescent Music Anniversary party. There's sure to be some great folks playing. I drive up with Lily Sazz and Matt, the new TBS admin guy. When I walk in, Blue Willow is playing. They're the only band that ever fired me - but I deserved it. I was so overcomitted doing all these newsletters that I would miss rehearsals and often be late for gigs. Five years later, the girls are still at it and sounding great!
I start talking to London sax player Chris Murphy about the last discussion at the board meeting - the dying blues venmues in Toronto. He travels a lot and sees this happening in many other towns. He said something interesting, though. In his travels in ther States, he founf the really succesful blues bars had a few things in common: They were in the suburbs with lost of free parking, a safe clean environment, good food - establishmenst that did very well all day as restaurants. And the audience was well-heeled professionals who livbed in the area. Well, yuppies deserve the blues, too.
The stage changes over and we're listening to Johnny Wright, one of the finest R&B singers to come out of this town. Michael Fonfara is playing keyboards and Joe Mavety is on guitar. There's another guitar player, short blond hair, very youthful looking - turns out it's the legendary Danny Weiss, moved back to Toronto. Gary Kendall says to me me "That's the guy who's supposed to play on your album" - and I remembered telling him that Frazier M. had offered to remake my album for $1500. and the first thing he said was he was going to get Danny Weiss to play guitar. That was a deal buster. No reflection on Danny - he's a phenomenal musician - but the guitar star on my album has got to be *me*. Producer David Baxter saiud "you hire a guitar player to produce your album then you don't let him play!" Maybe it was a big mistake, Davis is a real creative guita4r player, probably more suited to my songs than a Danny Weiss. But it's up to me now, time to get back to those overdubs.
When the movie starts up, the first band to play is Mashmakhan, and there is Ray in his 70's glory. Looking very dapper. It must have been a great moment for him. I wonder how it was for some of the other "stakeholders" at that premiere. At one point in his remarks, the director said "To the guy that put it all together, wherever you are, Ken Walker...." and just then several people a few rows in front of me stand up and shout "He's right here" pointing to Ken Walker in the aisle seat. He takes a little bow, but as the producers walk back upo the aisle, I notice there is no contact as they walk right by him. No "hi-fives" here. I hear later from Rob Bowman that it's been a lot of struggles getting it out - all the footage for the Toronto concert had been stolen, and I just had the feeling that there was a lot of sour grapes still - after 30 years. Maybe some of them will recover the money they lost 30 years ago. The other partner, Thor Eaton, probably doesn't need the money.
The performances by Janis Joplin in the film are close-up, gritty, full-tilt Janis. The Band casts their spell and the look like they just drove up from Big Pink. The Grateful Dead are stars of the show - especially when they agree to put a couple of flat-bed trucks together outside the stadium and give a free concert to quell a riot. But where were Bonnie & Delaney? We see them jammin' on the train, but was the stage performance too rough? Traffic was also cut out because their songs were way too long and they wouldn't allow them to be edited.
Tuesday 5:30, The Rivoli: It's the CD Launch for the Gordon Lightfoot tribute album, and the house is stunned when Gordon himself is introduced from the stage by Grit Laskin. Word is he's not well, and he looks a little gaunt but he hung in right to the end - even going up to the stage to shake hands with Aengus Finnan who performed an original composition about Lightfoot and told how it helped him understand Canada (he came from U.K) James Keelaghan played a live rendition of the Canadian Railroad Trilogy - imagine doing that with Lightfoot himself in the audience. He pulled it off great. Interespersed between the live performances they played tracks from the album. It's hard enough to get the attention of a media schmooze audience when you're playing live - it's even harder to get them to shut up and listen to recorded music, even if it's a first like the Cowboy Junkies or Bruce Cockburn doing a Lightfoot song.
10:30 After attending two board meetings (my co-op and the end of the Blues Society meeting) I still have enough steam head up to the Iridescent Music Anniversary party. There's sure to be some great folks playing. I drive up with Lily Sazz and Matt, the new TBS admin guy. When I walk in, Blue Willow is playing. They're the only band that ever fired me - but I deserved it. I was so overcomitted doing all these newsletters that I would miss rehearsals and often be late for gigs. Five years later, the girls are still at it and sounding great!
I start talking to London sax player Chris Murphy about the last discussion at the board meeting - the dying blues venmues in Toronto. He travels a lot and sees this happening in many other towns. He said something interesting, though. In his travels in ther States, he founf the really succesful blues bars had a few things in common: They were in the suburbs with lost of free parking, a safe clean environment, good food - establishmenst that did very well all day as restaurants. And the audience was well-heeled professionals who livbed in the area. Well, yuppies deserve the blues, too.
The stage changes over and we're listening to Johnny Wright, one of the finest R&B singers to come out of this town. Michael Fonfara is playing keyboards and Joe Mavety is on guitar. There's another guitar player, short blond hair, very youthful looking - turns out it's the legendary Danny Weiss, moved back to Toronto. Gary Kendall says to me me "That's the guy who's supposed to play on your album" - and I remembered telling him that Frazier M. had offered to remake my album for $1500. and the first thing he said was he was going to get Danny Weiss to play guitar. That was a deal buster. No reflection on Danny - he's a phenomenal musician - but the guitar star on my album has got to be *me*. Producer David Baxter saiud "you hire a guitar player to produce your album then you don't let him play!" Maybe it was a big mistake, Davis is a real creative guita4r player, probably more suited to my songs than a Danny Weiss. But it's up to me now, time to get back to those overdubs.
Saturday, September 13, 2003
It's the day after my birthday and even though I know I should be home overdubbing guitar parts on my forthcoming CD (see previous posts) I'm at big party at the Palais Royale. It's a movie release party, a much bigger deal than the CD release parties I'm used to. Little food stations all around the place. A couple of guys shucking oysters here, smoked salmon there, another area serving jambalaya and cornbread, outside they had corn-on-the-cob and turkey. Lots of other goodies, all dished out by fresh-faced servers in cute uniforms - cruise ship might have been the motif.
And there on stage, fronting the Full-Tilt Boogie Band - mostly original members - was Bonnie Bramlett, invoking the spirit of Janis as she tore into a searing version of "Piece of My Heart." Then she did a tune that she wrote especially for Janis - she said Janis asked for a shuffle, but never lived long enough to perform it. Bonnie is nothing short of a spectacular vocalist. It was great hearing John Till play - the last time I saw him play was at the Coq D'Or in the sixties. Richard Bell was doing double duty - stretched between the organ and piano - he said afterwards he was glad that Lou Pomanti was able to jump in on some of the tunes. Ken Pearson couldn't make it. Sylvia Tyson and Lorraine Segatto joined in for a rousing jam of CC Rider.
Bernie Leadon of the Flying Burrito Brothers was flown up for the occasion and did a great set but when Bill King tried to get him up for the big finale, Bernie waved off the invitation. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a little miffed that the crowd never shut up for the three tunes he did solo. Sylvia, who was in Great Speckled Bird with then-hubby Ian, had also been part of the Festival Express, sang an a capella tune to kick off the proceedings. Garth Hudson played a couple of Band classics with his wife Maud doing the vocals.
You had to be close to the stage hear the music. As the evening progressed, it seems that the crowd got more attentive. It was such a beautifully managed party, it might have been managed a bit more in favour of the musicians if they had asked people who insisted on carrying on a conversation to step out to the patio. Who am I to talk? - I was blabbing away with lots of people - most of them asking when the hell I'm going to release that CD of mine. And then I found myself face to face with David Baxter who is the producer-of-record for this album but who doesn't ask that question anymore.
As soon as I've done two more CD release parties in the next week, I will start to spend all-day (yikes) working on the CD. I promised the label I'd have therse overdubs done by the end of the month. David's eyes rolled when I told him i've been adding some MIDI tracks. This may just be another waste of time diversion, but I'm going to record MIDI as well as the regular guitar sound and then decide - keep them both, or one of them or none.
Oh, did I mention the film is called "Festival Express." I may yet get to see it, but for now all I can say is they give a great party. I comisserated with other (younger) bachelors how these film festival parties attract large numbers of stunning women. I guess they're all actresses and models. And also some not-so-young but equally attractive ladies of a certain age - the ones that were there for the original Festival Express
The Dexters started off the evening and closed it out with some special guests, Jeff Martin of Tea Party played some very credible blues. The Dexters horn section was Perry White and Steve Donald - tenor and trombone. What a great honkin sound. Amazing evening.
And there on stage, fronting the Full-Tilt Boogie Band - mostly original members - was Bonnie Bramlett, invoking the spirit of Janis as she tore into a searing version of "Piece of My Heart." Then she did a tune that she wrote especially for Janis - she said Janis asked for a shuffle, but never lived long enough to perform it. Bonnie is nothing short of a spectacular vocalist. It was great hearing John Till play - the last time I saw him play was at the Coq D'Or in the sixties. Richard Bell was doing double duty - stretched between the organ and piano - he said afterwards he was glad that Lou Pomanti was able to jump in on some of the tunes. Ken Pearson couldn't make it. Sylvia Tyson and Lorraine Segatto joined in for a rousing jam of CC Rider.
Bernie Leadon of the Flying Burrito Brothers was flown up for the occasion and did a great set but when Bill King tried to get him up for the big finale, Bernie waved off the invitation. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a little miffed that the crowd never shut up for the three tunes he did solo. Sylvia, who was in Great Speckled Bird with then-hubby Ian, had also been part of the Festival Express, sang an a capella tune to kick off the proceedings. Garth Hudson played a couple of Band classics with his wife Maud doing the vocals.
You had to be close to the stage hear the music. As the evening progressed, it seems that the crowd got more attentive. It was such a beautifully managed party, it might have been managed a bit more in favour of the musicians if they had asked people who insisted on carrying on a conversation to step out to the patio. Who am I to talk? - I was blabbing away with lots of people - most of them asking when the hell I'm going to release that CD of mine. And then I found myself face to face with David Baxter who is the producer-of-record for this album but who doesn't ask that question anymore.
As soon as I've done two more CD release parties in the next week, I will start to spend all-day (yikes) working on the CD. I promised the label I'd have therse overdubs done by the end of the month. David's eyes rolled when I told him i've been adding some MIDI tracks. This may just be another waste of time diversion, but I'm going to record MIDI as well as the regular guitar sound and then decide - keep them both, or one of them or none.
Oh, did I mention the film is called "Festival Express." I may yet get to see it, but for now all I can say is they give a great party. I comisserated with other (younger) bachelors how these film festival parties attract large numbers of stunning women. I guess they're all actresses and models. And also some not-so-young but equally attractive ladies of a certain age - the ones that were there for the original Festival Express
The Dexters started off the evening and closed it out with some special guests, Jeff Martin of Tea Party played some very credible blues. The Dexters horn section was Perry White and Steve Donald - tenor and trombone. What a great honkin sound. Amazing evening.
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
September allready and I didn't make a single post in August. I aplogize to the two or three of you who were looking for more chapters in my ongoing saga. Since we advertised the release of my CD for September 03 September, and since it's September now and it's still not released, I guess I owe an explanation.
It all started a couple of years ago when Fred Litwin of Northern Blues offered me a contract to lease my indie CD (made five years ago at Puck's Farm). With Bill Garret in my corner, we convinced Fred to let me record a new album. I spent a few months recording my new tunes in my home-studio, set up and operated by Paul Benedict.
The solo acoustic thang did not get them very excited but we had a straict deadline so I called in a couple of players I knew well and we laid down some solid tracks, but I still wanted a "quiet" album - because I find the first one too raucus.
Well, now I find it *too* quiet and now I'm at the stage where I'm overdubbing some gritty electric guitar on some of the tracks. I may re-do a couple of vocals then we're gonna mix the sucker and get it out there. I've got the old Strat out and I'm even using a pick!
Had a nice break visiting the Eastern Townships and Cape Cod. I was happy to visit the Singfield Brothers who I played with in the Seventies. I played them the track I recorded called "Terrace Inn", named after the club we worked at every summer when I was playing bass in their band, Oliver Klaus. Then in Provincetown, I found myself having dinner at Alice Brock's - this is the Alice who has been immortalized in the song "Alice's Restaurant". I was playing a few tunes at the dining-room table and Alice told me that was the table where Arlo wrote that folk classic. I can only imagine some of the other formidable musicians who sat around that table. It's a round oak dining table and looks almost new, but Alice explained that it's quite old but that it is a "self-healing" table. Many a cigarette had burned a mark at the edge but they all faded away - not to mention a lot of spilled red wine, I'm sure. She showed me a crack in the table that had been a major gash where a knife had been plunged into it, but it was now practically closed up. On the drive back to Toronto, we stopped at the original Alice's Restaurant in upper Mass - it's now called the Guthrie Center and presents music regularly.
I haven't been hustling for gigs during the summer - I guess I thought I'd get invited back to a few festivals as I was last year, but ...wrong! Time to get on the phone. Harry Manx was in town for a couple of gigs and invited me to open for him at Hugh's Room but when I got there, it turns out that another opening act had been booked, unbeknownst to anyone. Her name was Heather Horak and she had driven all the way from Ottawa so we worked out a way for both of us to play. I did a couple of tunes then brought her up for a short set. I got to be the M.C for the evening and that was a lot of fun. I was up with Harry till 4:30 the next morning putzing around with my MIDI guitar setup.
I love bass players (maybe that's because I started as a bass player) and this month I played with a couple of greats. Terry Wilkins played with me at Chicago's (along with Michelle Josef on drums and Lily Sazz on piano) and although I generally prefer string bass, he played electric on that gig and it was the same solid groove that I'm usewd toi from his gut-bucket bass. Then a few days later I played with Ka-Cheung Liu, who is making a name for himself on the jazz scene but who really kicks ass with the blues - hope I get to play with him again.
Meanwhile, I've been totally distracted by lots of "other people's music." The Toronto Star Bluesfest brought an incredible array of talent. I was out of town but made it for the Saturday night and Sunday performances. My highlight was David Lindley. I've heard lots of great lap slide lately, and he had that "low-end" that is an essential part of Harry manx' sound, but he brought something else - funny lyrics, for one thing. The site was great, three stages in close proximity. Based, I'm told, on a floor plan developed when the CNE was being considered as a venue for the jazz festival. I didn't even take advantage of my media pass to get into the backstage or VIP area (Gary Kendall thought it was the best backstage buffet of any festival he's attended).
I only had one media pass but Jacquie Houston and I walked right through the gate and straight to the stage area where Rick Fines was playing (playing great, I might add). Then a very earnest volunteer tapped me on the shoulder and said "We saw your pass but we didn't see hers," Busted! Jacquie had a couple of tickets in her purse anyway, but it shows they had pretty good security. At one point, a security person signalled that I should be leaning on the barricade. I heard the volunteers were very well treated, except for the transportation co-ordinator who quit halfway through the festival (another thing I heard behind the scenes).
I got to see Anson Funderburgh - my man on guitar. But this week-end featured a procession of great guitarists - Tommy Castro, Robert Cray, Kelley Joe Phelps, John Mooney, even Richard Thomson. I saw Big Ben Richardson pulling a double shift playing with Tony D then playing with John Mooney. Later David GoGo was ragging on him that he had wanted him for his set, too.
There was one off-the-wall performer named Howard Gelb (sp) who I never "got." He would stop in the middle of a song to play a clip of Ellington on a CD player. Go figure. Somebody even called the Blues Society office complaining about him - not that we had anything to do with it.
The Bluesfest was put on by the same group that does the Ottawa Bluesfest, a phenomenally successful event in Ottawa, and I hope their coffers were filled because they lost their shirt in Toronto.
A few weeks later, it's the Southside Shuffle in Port Credit - a very different kettle of fish. They've got the audience - the streets were packed with throngs of people, I bet most of whom never get out to a blues show. But no big bucks for talent here - mostly local bands playing and no signs of big sponsors. The closest I got to the main stage was looking through the chain-link fence by the porta-potties with a generator blasting. On the street I got to hear some bands I've never heard - Wayne Buttery and the Groove Project, a big 8-piece classic R&B unit. Nice to meet someone in person after you've been reading their emails for years. And The Livin Blues Band had a special guest, Maria Aurigema, a great singer-guitarist from upper state NY. And there was a great young singer called Larissa, I think, playing on the street. (She also had a fine bass player, there I go again about bass players) Who was that young woman playing bass? If anybody has contact info for her, write me at brian@blain.com - and I'll know that there's somebody out there reading these rambling blogs.
It all started a couple of years ago when Fred Litwin of Northern Blues offered me a contract to lease my indie CD (made five years ago at Puck's Farm). With Bill Garret in my corner, we convinced Fred to let me record a new album. I spent a few months recording my new tunes in my home-studio, set up and operated by Paul Benedict.
The solo acoustic thang did not get them very excited but we had a straict deadline so I called in a couple of players I knew well and we laid down some solid tracks, but I still wanted a "quiet" album - because I find the first one too raucus.
Well, now I find it *too* quiet and now I'm at the stage where I'm overdubbing some gritty electric guitar on some of the tracks. I may re-do a couple of vocals then we're gonna mix the sucker and get it out there. I've got the old Strat out and I'm even using a pick!
Had a nice break visiting the Eastern Townships and Cape Cod. I was happy to visit the Singfield Brothers who I played with in the Seventies. I played them the track I recorded called "Terrace Inn", named after the club we worked at every summer when I was playing bass in their band, Oliver Klaus. Then in Provincetown, I found myself having dinner at Alice Brock's - this is the Alice who has been immortalized in the song "Alice's Restaurant". I was playing a few tunes at the dining-room table and Alice told me that was the table where Arlo wrote that folk classic. I can only imagine some of the other formidable musicians who sat around that table. It's a round oak dining table and looks almost new, but Alice explained that it's quite old but that it is a "self-healing" table. Many a cigarette had burned a mark at the edge but they all faded away - not to mention a lot of spilled red wine, I'm sure. She showed me a crack in the table that had been a major gash where a knife had been plunged into it, but it was now practically closed up. On the drive back to Toronto, we stopped at the original Alice's Restaurant in upper Mass - it's now called the Guthrie Center and presents music regularly.
I haven't been hustling for gigs during the summer - I guess I thought I'd get invited back to a few festivals as I was last year, but ...wrong! Time to get on the phone. Harry Manx was in town for a couple of gigs and invited me to open for him at Hugh's Room but when I got there, it turns out that another opening act had been booked, unbeknownst to anyone. Her name was Heather Horak and she had driven all the way from Ottawa so we worked out a way for both of us to play. I did a couple of tunes then brought her up for a short set. I got to be the M.C for the evening and that was a lot of fun. I was up with Harry till 4:30 the next morning putzing around with my MIDI guitar setup.
I love bass players (maybe that's because I started as a bass player) and this month I played with a couple of greats. Terry Wilkins played with me at Chicago's (along with Michelle Josef on drums and Lily Sazz on piano) and although I generally prefer string bass, he played electric on that gig and it was the same solid groove that I'm usewd toi from his gut-bucket bass. Then a few days later I played with Ka-Cheung Liu, who is making a name for himself on the jazz scene but who really kicks ass with the blues - hope I get to play with him again.
Meanwhile, I've been totally distracted by lots of "other people's music." The Toronto Star Bluesfest brought an incredible array of talent. I was out of town but made it for the Saturday night and Sunday performances. My highlight was David Lindley. I've heard lots of great lap slide lately, and he had that "low-end" that is an essential part of Harry manx' sound, but he brought something else - funny lyrics, for one thing. The site was great, three stages in close proximity. Based, I'm told, on a floor plan developed when the CNE was being considered as a venue for the jazz festival. I didn't even take advantage of my media pass to get into the backstage or VIP area (Gary Kendall thought it was the best backstage buffet of any festival he's attended).
I only had one media pass but Jacquie Houston and I walked right through the gate and straight to the stage area where Rick Fines was playing (playing great, I might add). Then a very earnest volunteer tapped me on the shoulder and said "We saw your pass but we didn't see hers," Busted! Jacquie had a couple of tickets in her purse anyway, but it shows they had pretty good security. At one point, a security person signalled that I should be leaning on the barricade. I heard the volunteers were very well treated, except for the transportation co-ordinator who quit halfway through the festival (another thing I heard behind the scenes).
I got to see Anson Funderburgh - my man on guitar. But this week-end featured a procession of great guitarists - Tommy Castro, Robert Cray, Kelley Joe Phelps, John Mooney, even Richard Thomson. I saw Big Ben Richardson pulling a double shift playing with Tony D then playing with John Mooney. Later David GoGo was ragging on him that he had wanted him for his set, too.
There was one off-the-wall performer named Howard Gelb (sp) who I never "got." He would stop in the middle of a song to play a clip of Ellington on a CD player. Go figure. Somebody even called the Blues Society office complaining about him - not that we had anything to do with it.
The Bluesfest was put on by the same group that does the Ottawa Bluesfest, a phenomenally successful event in Ottawa, and I hope their coffers were filled because they lost their shirt in Toronto.
A few weeks later, it's the Southside Shuffle in Port Credit - a very different kettle of fish. They've got the audience - the streets were packed with throngs of people, I bet most of whom never get out to a blues show. But no big bucks for talent here - mostly local bands playing and no signs of big sponsors. The closest I got to the main stage was looking through the chain-link fence by the porta-potties with a generator blasting. On the street I got to hear some bands I've never heard - Wayne Buttery and the Groove Project, a big 8-piece classic R&B unit. Nice to meet someone in person after you've been reading their emails for years. And The Livin Blues Band had a special guest, Maria Aurigema, a great singer-guitarist from upper state NY. And there was a great young singer called Larissa, I think, playing on the street. (She also had a fine bass player, there I go again about bass players) Who was that young woman playing bass? If anybody has contact info for her, write me at brian@blain.com - and I'll know that there's somebody out there reading these rambling blogs.
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
I see that I finished my last post with the words "Hey, maybe we'll play a little modern jazz!" Famous last words.
As I've been focused entirely on the recording, I haven't been hustling any gigs so I was happy that one trickled down to me in the Downtown Jazz festival. I didn't have a band in place so I put together something "completely different." Caspar Project is Peter Hasek and an arsenal of synths and samplers. We needed a third (the club owner had asked - as I discovered later - for a "jazz trio"). So for a third, we brought in Lowell Lybarger, a world-class tabla player and what a virtuoso he was. He asked if he could bring along his dijeridoo and when he pulled that out, it was amazing - the sound was being sent through Peter's processing gear. It was fucking amazing! ...at least I though so. The club owner thought otherwise and we were fired...I should have known this would not work in a sports bar.
Meanwhile I've still got a record to finish. Now that I've got my Strat set up with a MIDI pickup, I'm going to do a last pass of guitar overdubs. I've got to get a little more energy into it - I know I told everybody I wanted a laid-back record but now I find that it's *too* laid back. We'll punch it up a bit. I know I shouldn't be talking about this in public - I"ve been told I "planted the seeds of doubt". Well, regardless of what everybody else says, I'm not going to put this out until i have no doubts.
SO WHAT ELSE HAVE I BEEN UP TO?
As I write this, the Toronto Rocks concert is taking place in my town. My friend Dan even offered me a ticket but here I am watching the webcast in a little window on my computer. I was almost ready to go for it, but last night I started to write a new tune and I haven't hardly touched my guitar in weeks and I just decided that I was not going to go watch somebody else's music - even the Stones - I'm going to stay and work on my own (this song better be good so I can tell people that I missed the most historic music event of my generation - or is it the next generation?
So what's the update, you ask? (I know you're out there because every once in a while somebody tells me they've been reading my blog)
Listening to Dan Aykroyd saying this is "a piece of History"... ooops the webcast just reached its capacity and I've been knocked off. Oh well, I'm just going to have to go someplace where there's a TV - but not till 9:00 o'clock.
Now I've turned on the radio and they seem to be doing a live broadcast (the webcast was not live but rather assembled highlights...no the announcer just said that was a previously recorded Justin Timberlake ("Can you hear the sound of the projectiles being thrown at the stage" he says)
As I've been focused entirely on the recording, I haven't been hustling any gigs so I was happy that one trickled down to me in the Downtown Jazz festival. I didn't have a band in place so I put together something "completely different." Caspar Project is Peter Hasek and an arsenal of synths and samplers. We needed a third (the club owner had asked - as I discovered later - for a "jazz trio"). So for a third, we brought in Lowell Lybarger, a world-class tabla player and what a virtuoso he was. He asked if he could bring along his dijeridoo and when he pulled that out, it was amazing - the sound was being sent through Peter's processing gear. It was fucking amazing! ...at least I though so. The club owner thought otherwise and we were fired...I should have known this would not work in a sports bar.
Meanwhile I've still got a record to finish. Now that I've got my Strat set up with a MIDI pickup, I'm going to do a last pass of guitar overdubs. I've got to get a little more energy into it - I know I told everybody I wanted a laid-back record but now I find that it's *too* laid back. We'll punch it up a bit. I know I shouldn't be talking about this in public - I"ve been told I "planted the seeds of doubt". Well, regardless of what everybody else says, I'm not going to put this out until i have no doubts.
SO WHAT ELSE HAVE I BEEN UP TO?
As I write this, the Toronto Rocks concert is taking place in my town. My friend Dan even offered me a ticket but here I am watching the webcast in a little window on my computer. I was almost ready to go for it, but last night I started to write a new tune and I haven't hardly touched my guitar in weeks and I just decided that I was not going to go watch somebody else's music - even the Stones - I'm going to stay and work on my own (this song better be good so I can tell people that I missed the most historic music event of my generation - or is it the next generation?
So what's the update, you ask? (I know you're out there because every once in a while somebody tells me they've been reading my blog)
Listening to Dan Aykroyd saying this is "a piece of History"... ooops the webcast just reached its capacity and I've been knocked off. Oh well, I'm just going to have to go someplace where there's a TV - but not till 9:00 o'clock.
Now I've turned on the radio and they seem to be doing a live broadcast (the webcast was not live but rather assembled highlights...no the announcer just said that was a previously recorded Justin Timberlake ("Can you hear the sound of the projectiles being thrown at the stage" he says)
Thursday, June 5, 2003
Freddie Roulette is in town - some say for the first time - and he's doing a week at Top 'O The Senator. I caught the opening night and was floored by his virtuosity on the lap slide guitar. I haven't seen too many musicians that are in such complete control of their instrument. He had it jumping through hoops, making sound effects and "talking" noises. I've seen Sonny Rhodes do his thing on the lap slide but this was way beyond that - and I got the feeling that he was sticking to the simpler blues tunes because he was working with a pick-up band of local musos. Howard Willett was playing harmonica, Mitch Lewis on guitar and a great rhythm section of Bucky Berger and Dennis Pinhorn. Terry Wilkins dropped in later in the evening and he told me he had been working with Mitch all day, so if they did any rehearsing it must have been at the sound check. I guess they just had to learn the material from the CD's and that's fine as long as the artist still does the tune the way he did it when he recorded it.
I wouldn't want a back up band learning my stuff from CDs because songs have changed so much since I recorded them. I swore after that first CD that the next time I make a CD I will put together the band first, work up the new material in front of an audience and *then* record. Oh well, once again the pressure was on to get the project happeing, so I did the next best thing, call in a rhythm section that had worked a lot with me, but still it was all new material.
We had a nice little BBQ on Tuesday and I had a chance to socialize with some of the players outside the stress of the recording situation. Still some overdubs to do and perhaps a couple of vocals. when will this end?
I wouldn't want a back up band learning my stuff from CDs because songs have changed so much since I recorded them. I swore after that first CD that the next time I make a CD I will put together the band first, work up the new material in front of an audience and *then* record. Oh well, once again the pressure was on to get the project happeing, so I did the next best thing, call in a rhythm section that had worked a lot with me, but still it was all new material.
We had a nice little BBQ on Tuesday and I had a chance to socialize with some of the players outside the stress of the recording situation. Still some overdubs to do and perhaps a couple of vocals. when will this end?