"The Blues" series on PBS

[jazzbo]

I think the impetus behind these films is partly to educate, partly to honor, and partly to sell cds and dvds. All of sudden there are tons of blues cds for sale! Even more than with JAZZ because blues is that less an esoteric thing. The target audience for the blues cds is the audience for the contemporary acts that are playing these songs. I think that featuring these artists both allow the younger pop viewers to appreciate the blues a little, see a way into it from the music they are into now, and to show that the music has been reinterpreted and regenerated in the past and will into the future.

The blues HAS evolved in the last century, and there is a world of music in between Charly Patton and Magic Sam and yet it is all the blues. And there is another universe of music between Magic Sam and Cassandra Wilson, but still it is the blues. I think this series is highlighting this. I'm glad that it is. I bet there are more avid blues fans six months from now and I like that idea too. I remember the excitement I felt exploring the blues greats of the past, when I got the bug from Hendrix and Mayall. If someone else gets the bug from John Spencer and Beck that won't bother me any at all.

It's a testimony to our culture and its dynamics that we don't have seven straight historical documentary films in a row on the blues to watch this week. From my vantage point of 48 years, an adult life spent in this culture and economy I would NEVER expect we WOULD get that. This is what we get, what we can expect to get. And it's to my mind a lot better than nothing.

[Joe]

Plus, we can always turn off our TVs, turn on our stereos, close our eyes, and just LISTEN to the music. Edited September 30, 2003 by Joe

[maren]

I question why we need modern groups performing these guy's songs on this stuff.

I think it's more the case that these modern guys (and not-so-modern: Beatles, Rolling Stones, Cream, ad infinitum) NEED GREAT MATERIAL! Like TV advertising needs Willie Dixon's songs to sell things! These are great songs -- better in the original, IMHO -- but when I was a kid and heard "I'm So Glad" on the radio, I loved it. At the time, however, I just assumed it was "a Cream song." I'm so glad to learn that Skip James actually made some money off the Cream version -- but I don't think it's necessarily the case that ALL these "covers" are done to glorify and illuminate the originals! These songs are a gold mine for perfomers (and record labels) -- especially if their composers/lyricists have no financial rights to them.

[in Marc Ribot's case, the songs of Arsenio Rodriguez have provided his band (Los Cubanos Postizos) with a lot of gigs over the past few years -- and I think Ribot is the first to admit it: that he's the beneficiary of the songwriting genius of Rodriguez, not that the work needed Marc Ribot to shine a light on it.]

About this series: sorry I missed last night's (Wim Wenders). About Scorsese's: loved the archival footage, felt frustated when the music was cut short to be used as an intro to a talking head!, felt the segment as a whole was kind of shapeless, felt at least an hour could be devoted to a documentary "A/B-ing" various African and African-American musics, but in this case I was again frustated by the brevity of the examples used, and by seeming to present Ali Farka Toure as playing music that was a PROGENITOR of the blues when he is so well-known as a SYNTHESIST thoroughly influenced by John Lee Hooker.

[Jim Alfredson]

Well, I do take issue with your sweeping comment about people with "no business playing this particular music (let alone getting national exposure)." Don't you think that's a bit extreme? Part of what Wenders was doing is demonstrating that these songs can be interpreted all sorts of different ways by all sorts of different artists throughout the years. I really don't see the problem with that. You can dislike them, but it doesn't mean they're not allowed to play this music.

Sure ok. And Michael Bolton is allowed to make an "opera" CD (which he did). But that doesn't mean he should be in a documentary about Verdi.

And Rod Stewart is allowed to do a CD of standards (which he did) but that doesn't mean he should be featured in a documentary about Gershwin or Mancini.

It's funny that Lon said the Bonnie Raitt was a bit too pat. I found her to be the only one with real conviction (I forgot about Ulmer... he was great). I got the feeling that Reed, John Spencer, Beck, et al had never heard of Skip James and/or have never played one of his tunes before. Seemed totally canned to me.

[Alexander]

I agree with the comment about the general tone of negativity. Modern artists have "no business" performing blues songs? What the hell is that? If Lonnie Smith can peform Beck songs (as he does on his latest CD), then Beck can perform Skip James. It may work for you, it may not (honestly, it didn't really work for me) but give the man a chance. Beck is an interesting musician, if nothing else. Lou Reed and Nick Cave are acquired tastes. But they are ALLOWED to play these songs. Who's going to stop them? The Blues Police. "I'm sorry Mr. Reed. I had you clocked doing 'You Upset Me Baby' in a No Honkies Zone. I'm going to have to write you a ticket..."

I guess one of things that REALLY bugs me is the implication that white people shouldn't sing blues songs (notice I don't say "the blues"). African Americans originated the blues, of that there is no doubt, but they don't hold the copyright. That's as ridiculous as saying that white people can't play jazz.

[Uncle Skid]

Modern artists have "no business" performing blues songs?  What the hell is that?

I agree with b3-er's assessment of Jon Spencer and Lucinda Williams. It's not really about whether or not they "have no business" performing songs -- it's about being faithful to the original composer's vision of the song. IMHO, what they were doing was so *far* removed from the original that it was pointless. In Spencer's case, I'd even call it "masturbatory" -- especially shown in glaring contrast to the original.

I think it was Jerry Coker that said (or wrote) that musicians should approach each song with a certain reverence and understanding of the original composer's intentions. It's that reverence that seems to be missing in many of those artists -- with the very obvious exception of Bonnie Raitt.

[The Mule]

FWIW, some reviews of upcoming episodes in the series from VARIETY:

Posted: Sat., Sep. 6, 2003, 12:00pm PT

The Road To Memphis

A Road Movies and Vulcan Prods. presentation in association with Cappa Prods. and Jigsaw Prods. as part of "Martin Scorsese Presents the Blues." Produced by Robert Kenner. Co-producer, Melissa Adelson. Directed by Richard Pearce. Written by Robert Gordon.

With: B.B. King, Bobby Rush, Ike Turner, Little Milton, Rosco Gordon, Rufus Thomas, Calvin Newborn, Hubert Sumlin, Chris Spindel, Don Kern, Louis Cannonball Cantor, Cato Walker III, Little Milton Campbell, Sam Phillips, Jim Dickinson.

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By PHIL GALLO

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Memphis isn't what it used to be -- especially Beale Street, the former center of the black community, now a haven for tourist traps and mediocre blues bands. Richard Pearce, who shot "Woodstock" and Neil Young's "Rust Never Sleeps," uses the city as a metaphor for the road warriors who got their start in west Tennessee: B.B. King, Rosco Gordon, Ike Turner and Bobby Rush. With its tone of disappointment and resignation, "The Road to Memphis" is a vital testimony in support of Martin Scorsese's "Blues" project: Wait any longer and all the city's artists will be dead -- and all the studios, save for Sun, will have met the wrecking ball.

Sadness permeates "The Road to Memphis," which tells less about music than it does about its musicians; Memphis has institutionally turned its back on its black heritage since the 1968 assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., and for the last 30 years, the road out of town is the one black artists are far more likely to have traveled.

Pearce trails his subjects like a hunter waiting for birds. He allows some of that downtime to creep into his piece, which posits blues musicians as everyday workers, stripping them of celebrity or glamour.

"Road to Memphis" is about the blues in the here and now -- historical footage is kept to a minimum -- and it establishes the notion that this remains a hard life for anyone who chooses it. Jim Dickinson, a member of the North Mississippi Allstars and a longtime Memphis producer, is Pearce's proof that some still find validity in the lifestyle.

Pic's cornerstone is a reunion show of the four Memphis artists, and Pearce introduces them in a hierarchical scale: King is a passenger in his well-appointed bus; Rush is his own bus driver. Everyone seems to know Ike Turner, whose musical reputation keeps doors open; Gordon pleads for recognition.

King's presence is the obvious mainstream appeal here. He got his start in Memphis on KDIA, the radio station he revisits in "Memphis" and, with two current DJs, reminisces about jingles and the former station owners who turned it into the first station run by black people in the U.S. He is a weary traveler, yet a model of graciousness.

Rush is the contrast. He drives and repairs his three buses as he roams the chitlin circuit he has been performing on since he left Chicago and its pure blues in the late 1960s.

Rush, like Little Milton, who is also prominently featured in "Road to Memphis," plays a funky soul version of the blues that parlays temptation, fortitude and the prurient, and one of the best scenes in this series is Rush on the dance floor with one of his backup singers shaking her elastic rump. Proof that it's all just a show hits home when he drives all night to attend Sunday services that, in the tenor of the music, are just as rocking as Saturday night.

The indifference of locals to Memphis' black musical roots exasperates Gordon more than the others. His story is one of a man skipped over: Turner discovered him in the early 1950s, and although he never had any major hits, the loping beat on his records was a major influence on the Jamaican musicians who created ska. Gordon dies soon after the concert, and thankfully Pearce doesn't sentimentalize his passing.

Posted: Tue., Sep. 2, 2003, 9:38pm PT

Godfathers & Sons

(Documentary) A Road Movies and Vulcan Prods. presentation in association with Cappa Prods. and Jigsaw Prods. as part of "Martin Scorsese Presents the Blues." Produced by Daphne Pinkerson, Marc Levin, Margaret Bodde. Co-producer, Richard Hutton. Directed by Marc Levin.

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By PHIL GALLO

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Marc Levin draws the assignment, in Martin Scorsese's "Blues" project, of finding a new way to examine the most oft-told blues story this side of the crossroads: Electric Blues 101. Story consists of a neighborhood (Chicago's Southside), a record label (Chess), two superstars (Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf) and a songwriter (Willie Dixon), but Levin goes the extra mile by connecting the legacy of Muddy and Wolf with modern hip-hop artists. "Godfathers & Sons" succeeds in making the blues come alive for a new generation.

Bonus is Levin's technique -- he adds a cinema verite take on the city's contempo club scene to his blues 'n' rap story and adds a few B&W clips from the 1960s that make the blues appear regal, vital and thriving. For story and filmmaking technique alone, "Godfathers & Sons" is the crown jewel in the Scorsese series.

Levin's project is smacked with good fortune at its outset as rapper Chuck D (Public Enemy) has just contacted Marshall Chess, son of label co-founder Leonard Chess, about a project involving Muddy Waters' much maligned album "Electric Mud." Point of view for much of "Godfathers" is that of young Chess, and he sees the "Electric Mud" update as a bit of redemption; in 1968, when he was trying to make his mark in his father's shadow and revive Waters' career, he wound up making what purists considered the worst blues album ever.

Chuck D's interest in the album energizes Chess, who learned the record biz from his father and then ran the Rolling Stones' empire for seven years. The two men hit city haunts -- the original Chess studios at 2120 Michigan Ave., Maxwell Street, a club or two -- and embark on re-assembling the Electric Mud band.

A portly crew, the band members arrive in New York and reminisce about their misunderstood project, bash critics and get to work making a modern version of the recording. What we hear is very solid funk that sounds more in tune with modern R&B than the blues of the 1960s.

Levin further personalizes the city's scene via Sam Lay, the Chess session drummer who played with the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, the act that made the blues cool for many a teenage rocker in the 1960s.

Butterfield, who few will argue was the greatest white blues artist ever, led a multiracial band that kept a parochial view of how the blues should be played and in turn attracted an audience that would be receptive to the genre's originals.

Via Lay, who supplied compelling home movies, Levin is able to directly connect his generation and its idols -- Bob Dylan, for example -- to the music Chess recorded in the 1950s; throughout the piece, fathers and sons are a recurring theme.

Visits with legends occur in two places: a darkened club where Koko Taylor is giving a whale of a performance, and the stage at the Chicago Blues Festival where Sunnyland Slim is trying to entertain 250,000 people. Outdoor footage at the fest has a news footage feel that's out of character with the rest of the film and has the lightest impact on the overall story; curiously it works as a break from the intensity of the rest of the pic.

Mark Benjamin's camera, however, is consistently in the right place throughout. Grainy black-and-white is so perfect for the music it creates a sense of urgency on par with the music playing. The heat and sweat is palpable.

PBS will air "Godfathers & Sons" Oct. 2.

Posted: Sat., Sep. 6, 2003, 12:00pm PT

Red, White And Blues

(Docu) A Road Movies and Vulcan Prods. presentation in association with Cappa Prods. and Jigsaw Prods as part of "Martin Scorsese Presents the Blues." Produced by Louise Hammar, Shirani Sabratnam. Directed by Mike Figgis.

With: Tom Jones, Jeff Beck, Van Morrison, John Porter, Humphrey Lyttelton, George Melly, Lonnie Donnegan, Chris Barber, Eric Clapton, John Mayall, B.B. King, Albert Lee, Chris Farlowe, Bert Jansch, Eric Burdon, Ramblin' Jack Elliott, Steve Winwood, Davey Graham, Georgie Fame, Mick Fleetwood, Peter Green, Lulu.

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By PHIL GALLO

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Van Morrison is the first performer seen in Mike Figgis' didactic recounting of the blues' effect on rock musicians in the 1960s. The idiosyncratic genius, hanging his hatted head over a microphone and expressively mumbling lyrics, Morrison demonstrates he intuitively knows more about the genre than virtually anyone practicing the art form today -- never mind that he hails from Belfast, a good 6,000 miles from the birthplace of the blues. It's Morrison's performance that stands out in Figgis' "Red White and Blues," an assemblage of talking heads recalling the assimilation of American roots music into British pop.

In their world, there was little distinction between Robert Johnson or Bunk Johnson, the Mississippi blues legend and the New Orleans jazz originator, respectively. But from World War II to the mid-1960s, Brit musicians absorbed anything American, so long as they saw it as authentic.

Figgis sheds light on a portion of rock 'n' roll history that has often been misunderstood or at least not told in its entirety. Incorporation of American roots music into British popular music dates back to the '40s when English acts championed an exact replication of early jazz. As that phase petered out, skiffle music set American folk music to a backbeat, with Lonnie Donnegan making an unlikely hit out of Leadbelly's "Rock Island Line." Sequentially, the next stop was obviously the blues.

The well-known part of the story is that British acts of the 1960s -- Rolling Stones, Animals, Fleetwood Mac, Them, Cream, Spencer Davis Group -- championed American blues musicians such as Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, John Lee Hooker, Bo Diddley and Sonny Boy Williamson. Unknown to the young Brits, though, was that these musicians were largely forgotten at home; the American blues revival that preceded the British Invasion focused on the acoustic folk side of the blues and not the harder-edged electric music that influenced the likes of Eric Burdon and Mick Jagger.

It's the lesser-known players, Georgie Fame and Chris Farlowe, who proffer the great stories in "Red White & Blues," with John Mayall and Mick Fleetwood supplying lucid accounts of performing with the legends themselves.

Jeff Beck -- who has a scrumptious duet with Lulu and less successful workouts with Tom Jones -- explains string bending, a bit of inside baseball, but the sort of detail that gives "Red White & Blues" its heft.

[jazzbo]

I don't know, reverence is great, but there's a point where songs can be transformed, and it is this transformation that brings new life to music. If everyone reverently treats Monk's music then will Monk's music live on into the 22nd century? Maybe. But I bet the odds are better if his music is played around with a bit. MONK PLAYED AROUND WITH HIS MUSIC. And the music of others. And made something new out of both.

I know dozens of people who know of Robert Johnson because of Cream's version of "Crossroads." That is one transformed tune!

For me Bonnie Raitt playing a manythousand dollar Guild and so smoothly singing out that Skip tune just didn't move me. It was perhaps a very reverential treatment and I'm totally aware of Bonnie's prowess as a singer and player. But this music is still alive and that is but one way to go, that reverential way. That way is the way of thye ghost swing bands, etc. And of the Lincoln Center Jazz mindset. Another way is to have the music reexamined and even turned on its head. I can dig both approaches, and am glad to see that these filmmakers can too, because I think they are featuring both approaches to the featured songs so far.

Edited September 30, 2003 by jazzbo

[RDK]

Modern artists have "no business" performing blues songs?  What the hell is that?

I agree with b3-er's assessment of Jon Spencer and Lucinda Williams. It's not really about whether or not they "have no business" performing songs -- it's about being faithful to the original composer's vision of the song. IMHO, what they were doing was so *far* removed from the original that it was pointless. In Spencer's case, I'd even call it "masturbatory" -- especially shown in glaring contrast to the original.

I think it was Jerry Coker that said (or wrote) that musicians should approach each song with a certain reverence and understanding of the original composer's intentions. It's that reverence that seems to be missing in many of those artists -- with the very obvious exception of Bonnie Raitt.

Tell that to George Gershwin, Cole Porter and so many other pop music composers who saw their tunes "bastardized" by jazz musicians.

As jazz fans, do we really want to go down this road?

[Jim Alfredson]

I guess one of things that REALLY bugs me is the implication that white people shouldn't sing blues songs (notice I don't say "the blues"). African Americans originated the blues, of that there is no doubt, but they don't hold the copyright. That's as ridiculous as saying that white people can't play jazz.

I never said or implied that white people should not play the blues. I simply asked why so many of them use the same silly tricks to try and sound bluesy, such as the aforementioned "growly voice" thing (think Van Morrison from the "Gloria" days..)

There are of course many great white blues singers/players... too many to list here. That's why I thought the choice of modern performers was silly and narrow. There are much better choices to show the influence of this music than Nick Cave and Lou Reed.

I'm fine with different interpretations of tunes but the interpretations showcased in that film were pedantic to say the least.

[Jim Alfredson]

Pedantic wasn't quite the word I was looking for... maybe "fatuous".

[jazzbo]

Yeah, you know Howlin' Wolf and Taj and even Louis should quit that hokey growlin' trick thing, y'know?

Edited September 30, 2003 by jazzbo

[Jim Alfredson]

For instance... one of the things that makes "Hard Time Killing Floor Blues" such a powerful piece of music is the overall ominous sound of the droning guitar and Skip James' floating, almost ethereal vocal. You can almost go into a trance listening to that track... it hypnotizes you and is very mysterious.

Chris Thomas King managed to capture that mood perfectly in his rendition on the "Oh Brother" soundtrack. Lucinda Williams destroyed it.

[Jim Alfredson]

Yeah, you know Howlin' Wolf and Taj and even Louis should quit that hokey growlin' trick thing, y'know?

That's what those singers are trying to emulate, not realizing that the sound of Howlin' Wolf, Taj and Louis are sounds they HAVE to make, not that they choose to make to sound like something they are not.

To use the example of Van Morrison again, once he stopped trying to emulate such singers (as in the Gloria days) and took on his own voice... well, his music speaks for itself.

Even Ray Charles did it. You listen to the old Atlantic sides and Ray is trying to sound like Charles Brown, among others. Once Ray realized it was okay to sound like himself...

[Jim R]

I agree with the comment about the general tone of negativity.  Modern artists have "no business" performing blues songs?  What the hell is that?it

Alexander, it was me saying that I don't think Beck has an ounce of talent- at least for performing a blues piece (I didn't see any talent at all demonstrated, in fact. I could go over to the local middle school, pull a kid out of class, show him a couple of chords, and the results would quite likely be as good or better). Another thing- don't put words in people's mouths. I did NOT say that modern musicians (in general) should not be playing these old tunes. Not sure where you got that from. I guess you were referring to B3-er's comments regarding the racial factor, but you misfired there too. "General negativity"... hmm... I think some of us just feel that we're free to make criticisms of what we see in these films. Not sure why so many folks object to this.

Edited September 30, 2003 by Jim R

[jazzbo]

I'm sorry, I disagree. I believe that Taj in particular, and most likely Wolf and Louis both used the growl as a texture, as an effect. Or at least AMPLIFIED their already natural tendency. This is the same thing you are accusing white singers of doing as being wrong.

And so you didn't like Lucinda's interpretation. Doesn't mean that others might like it, or that it may not bring a Lucinda fan (I know quite a few) to curiosity about the song and the writer. Cream's version of "I'm So Glad" was probably also not like Skip's original mood and intent. . .but it actually helped Skip out. I guess I just don't feel that all these singers and interpretations were somehow inappropriate.

Edited September 30, 2003 by jazzbo

[Uncle Skid]

As jazz fans, do we really want to go down this road?   

No, we probably don't.

I guess it all comes down to personal likes and dislikes -- and for a variety of reasons, the Spencer stuff just didn't sit well with me. I understand the importance of reinventing and transforming tunes, but I don't believe that Spencer was doing anything new or significant.

This sort of discussion seems to come up a lot around here, and I always learn something new from the exchange. I recall reading a similar discussion on the relative merits of Eric Alexander, and I'm amazed by both the depth of knowledge of the posters here, as well as the generally civil tone when disagreements come up. Thanks, guys. B)

[Jim R]

I guess I just don't feel that all these singers and interpretations were somehow inappropriate.

Okay, I'll admit (as I did in the Burns discussions) that it's the filmmaker's right to do as they please. So no, not inappropriate. Just lousy in spots. B) I really dug the Los Lobos performance, BTW.

I'm sorry if some think I'm being too negative here. Maybe it's a side-effect of not letting off any steam in the political threads.

So... hasn't anybody seen the documentary I mentioned above, "Blues Story"?

[7/4]

FWIW, some reviews of upcoming episodes in the series from VARIETY:

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By PHIL GALLO

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"Road to Memphis" is about the blues in the here and now -- historical footage is kept to a minimum -- and it establishes the notion that this remains a hard life for anyone who chooses it. Jim Dickinson, a member of the North Mississippi Allstars and a longtime Memphis producer, is Pearce's proof that some still find validity in the lifestyle.

He's a producer, but the North Mississippi Allstars is his son's (Luther & Cody) band!

[Jim Alfredson]

I'm sorry, I disagree. I believe that Taj in particular, and most likely Wolf and Louis both used the growl as a texture, as an effect. Or at least AMPLIFIED their already natural tendency. This is the same thing you are accusing white singers of doing as being wrong.

No, because with these white singers that I'm talking about it sounds completely forced and unnatural.

Think about Louis Armstrong's speaking voice and then think about the way he sings and then tell me that it's an effect.

Taj uses a variety of tones in his voice, but he uses them the way a horn player would use different tones or squeels or squonks. The good horn players sound natural doing it. The bad ones sound contrived.

[jazzbo]

Well, we'll just have to continue to disagree. I have many many hours in listening to Louis. There are times when Louis puts on a deeper growl as an effect, totally different from the timbre of his speaking or crooning voice. Also I almost think that Wolf's whole shtick is largely based on the effect of the growl he puts on. And Taj uses it as a device, clearly, undisguisedly. It may sound tacky and unnatural to you in white singers--and I don't necessarily disagree for many of them--but the reason that they do ths is because it is part of the language of the genre, part of being bluesy. This music is an American thing, and it's not black or white or black and white. I see the connection to much African music, BUT that music is African music, not the American blues, and I think last night's film showed some ways the music has morphed in the last century and into this one, and maybe some ways it will go further.

[jazzbo]

Man, what is that guitbox that J. B. is playing? It's a very nice sounding and distinctive axe!

And he does some rhythm chording that almost sounds like a harmonica! Excellent guitar. . . and player.

Edited September 30, 2003 by jazzbo

[Jim R]

I had wondered the same thing, Lon. I didn't tape the film, so I can't go back and analyze it, but the soundholes reminded me of a Gretsch Synchromatic. The headstock shape was what threw me, though. I wonder if it was a European instrument. Very cool, at any rate!

[jazzbo]

I was thinking Gretsch too, but the headstock threw me too!

Really cool guitar, really nice sounding too.

[Jim R]

Here's one shot showing the headstock

and another shot