Podcasts about Blind Lemon Jefferson

In this episode of The Blues Guitar Show, we dive deep into the life, legacy, and unmistakable style of Lightnin' Hopkins—one of the most influential blues guitarists of all time. From his early days in rural Texas, learning from legends like Blind Lemon Jefferson, to his rise as a prolific recording artist with over 800 songs, Hopkins shaped the sound of Texas blues like no one else.We break down his unique guitar style, his loose, improvisational approach to rhythm, and his signature boogie bass lines that made his playing instantly recognizable. We'll also explore the tunings and techniques that set him apart, his go-to Gibson acoustics and hollow-body electrics, and how his raw, percussive fingerpicking continues to inspire guitarists today.If you love blues guitar and want to get inside the mind (and fingers) of one of its greatest players, this episode is for you! Tune in, grab your guitar, and get ready to unlock the sound of Lightnin' Hopkins.Download the Triad Method: https://thebluesguitarshow.com/the-triad-method/Support the showTo get your hands on THE TRIAD METHOD: https://thebluesguitarshow.com/product/the-triad-method/Become a Blues Guitar Show Member: https://www.buzzsprout.com/950998/subscribeHead over to www.thebluesguitarshow.com to subscribe to the mailing list

Participants: John Steppling, Hiroyuki Hamada, and Dennis Riches. Topics covered: the ceasefire arrangement made by the US and Ukraine, driving cab in New York and Vancouver, youthful naivete, the lasting impact of toxic people, art influenced by the censorious grant application process. Music track “Match Box Blues” by Blind Lemon Jefferson (public domain).

There's an echo in the well of Americana and it reverberates from tradition and some of the early songsmiths and blues masters who delivered the blues proper through the depths of the past century of America's music. We'll be pulling some of the classic blues covers of songs composed by just a small collection of the great blues masters: Charley Patton, Muddy Waters, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Lonnie Johnson, Blind Blake and beyond in this week's episode. There is seldom enough time to make a dent in only two hours but we'll do our best with covers from some of the inheritors like BB King, Carl Perkins, Bob Dylan, Jorma Kaukonen and a couple dozen others. We're excavating some deeper roots this week and then tilling the airwaves with freshly turned songs of the earth; a landscape of blues cutting a deep swath across the musical landscape of the past 100 years. Celebrating blues and those who brought it home this week on KOWS Community Radio. 

Send us a textWelcome to Guess the Year! This is an interactive, competitive podcast series where you will be able to play along and compete against your fellow listeners. Here is how the scoring works:10 points: Get the year dead on!7 points: 1-2 years off4 points: 3-5 years off1 point: 6-10 years offGuesses can be emailed to drandrewmay@gmail.com or texted using the link at the top of the show notes (please leave your name).I will read your scores out before the next episode, along with the scores of your fellow listeners! Please email your guesses to Andrew no later than 12pm EST on the day the next episode posts if you want them read out on the episode (e.g., if an episode releases on Monday, then I need your guesses by 12pm EST on Wednesday; if an episode releases on Friday, then I need your guesses by 12 pm EST on Monday). Note: If you don't get your scores in on time, they will still be added to the overall scores I am keeping. So they will count for the final scores - in other words, you can catch up if you get behind, you just won't have your scores read out on the released episode. All I need is your guesses (e.g., Song 1 - 19xx, Song 2 - 20xx, Song 3 - 19xx, etc.). Please be honest with your guesses! Best of luck!!The answers to today's ten songs can be found below. If you are playing along, don't scroll down until you have made your guesses. .....Have you made your guesses yet? If so, you can scroll down and look at the answers......Okay, answers coming. Don't peek if you haven't made your guesses yet!.....Intro song: The Bore by The Hit(2024)Song 1: Got You All in Check by Busta Rhymes (1996) Song 2: Feeling Lucky by Jimmy Eat World (2007) Song 3: A Tear in Space (Airlock) by Glass Animals (2024)Song 4: She Drives Me Crazy by Fine Young Cannibals (1988)Song 5:Bad Luck Blues by Blind Lemon Jefferson (1926)Song 6:Wheelz of Steel by Outkast (1996) Song 7:The Wanderer by Dion (1961) Song 8:A Good Run of Bad Luck by Clint Black (1993)Song 9:Love Gun by Kiss (1977) Song 10:The Longest Time by Billy Joel (1983)

Send us a textIntro song: Poor Boy Blues by Ramblin' Thomas (1929)Song 1: Country Blues by Dock Boggs (1928)Song 2: Ninety-Nine Years Blues by Julius Daniel (1927)Song 3: See That My Grave is Kept Clean by Blind Lemon Jefferson (1928)Song 4: Buddy Won't You Roll Down the Line by Uncle Dave Macon (1930)Song 5: Spike Driver Blues by Mississippi John Hurt (1928)Outro song: Fishing Blues by Henry Thomas (1928)

Send us a textIntro song: The Coo Coo Bird by Clarence "Tom" Ashley (1929)Song 1: East Virginia by Buell Kazee (1927)Song 2: Minglewood Blues by Cannon's Jug Stompers (1928)Song 3: James Alley Blues by Richard Rabbit Brown (1927)Song 4: I Wish I Was a Mole in the Ground by Bascom Lamar Lunsford (1928)Song 5: Rabbit Foot Blues by Blind Lemon Jefferson (1926)Outro song: Expressman Blues by Sleepy John Estes & Yank Rachell (1930)

In this episode of ALPS In Brief, our Risk Manager Mark Bassingthwaighte sits down with University of Montana Professor Jeff Brandt to talk about synthesizers, AI, and his class on the history of rock and roll. — Transcript:  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Hello, I'm Mark Bassingthwaighte, the Risk Manager here at ALPS, and welcome to ALPS In Brief, the podcast that comes to you from the historic Florence building in beautiful Downtown Missoula, Montana. As many of you know, I have been in Florida now for a number of years, but I'm back at the home office here, and we have a special event every two years where we bring in a lot of our bar associates from various bar associations around the country. Then we have some special speakers that come in and talk about all kinds of things.  I have just finished attending a presentation given by Jeff Brandt, who is a professor here at the university and does a course on the history of music. I got to say, in all honesty, folks, I wish you could all have been here. This was one of the most fun, creative presentations I've seen in a long, long time. Jeff, it's a pleasure to have you here. Before we get started, can I ask you to take just a little bit of time and tell us about who you are?  Jeff Brandt:  Okay, so I was born in Sitka, Alaska, which is a tiny, well, it's a big island actually, but a tiny town on a big island in Southeast Alaska. Average rainfall there is about 96 inches per year, so it's a Pacific Coast rainforest.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right.  Jeff Brandt:  I went to college in Tacoma, Washington at Pacific Lutheran University. Taught private percussion lessons after that for about 20 years. Somewhere in the middle or somewhere in there, I got my graduate teaching degree. Then we ended up in Missoula, Montana as a result. Then by happenstance, the History of Rock & Roll as a course fell into my lap.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  That was an established course before you got here?  Jeff Brandt:  It was.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Okay.  Jeff Brandt:  Yeah. There were a lot of people that have taught it prior to me, but when I was given the opportunity to run with it, it was one of the first online courses developed at the University of Montana, and that's really when I dug in because I knew that teaching it in an online setting, I was going to have to be more aware of the points I was trying to get across and how they were delivered. I dug deeper and deeper into the historical aspect of the course, and then I just started creating these different slide programs. Now I'm on my third set of slides and I think it's my final because they're so good now I don't want to mess with them, but that's my brief history.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  I didn't realize this is online. Could anybody get online and just take this course?  Jeff Brandt:  Anybody can take it online. I'll give my spiel about online education, to be honest here, is I think online education is good if you have time to do it. I think in-person education, generally speaking, is better.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  I would agree with you.  Jeff Brandt:  There are so many different resources now for people to learn. Just with YouTube alone, you can go down an endless pit of stuff on one member of one obscure band, it seems.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  Yeah. Mine is one of the many resources out there.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  You're welcome to share. Folks, I'm telling you, if you have any interest at all in the history of rock and roll and want to have some awesome fun, this is a course I would encourage you to take and see. I didn't realize. How might folks find this?  Jeff Brandt:  Well, you go to the University of Montana. I believe you have to register as a student.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Okay.  Jeff Brandt:  You think that I would know all the hoops you have you have to jump through.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  No, that's fine.  Jeff Brandt:  You have to jump through several hoops and then you can take online classes. I do encourage people who are not working 40 hours a week and who are interested in really digging in, to take it in-person because there's so much more interaction with the way the clips are played and the way the slides are presented. Get on the University of Montana website and search it, and you can join the online course or the face-to-face.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  You clearly have a passion. It just seems like listening to you, you're having just a ton of fun too, and I love that. Folks, I can also share this course is I think the number one or the number two top.  Jeff Brandt:  It's one or two or three. It depends on the year.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah. Why do you do this?  Jeff Brandt:  Well, honestly, the first time it fell in my lap. I was just kind of given the opportunity to sub for somebody and subbing for somebody in a college course is, it's a lot to take on because you jump into it usually with all of their materials because that's usually the unwritten rule is, "I'll let you use my stuff." I mean, back then, I mean, it makes me sound like a dinosaur, but the person that gave me the stuff had overheads, and so I was using overhead.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Wow. Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  Maybe it was a year later that I was using slides, but they gave me their overheads. I jump in, I'm starting to do this, and honestly, I was scared because I guess when you're, I can speak as a male when you're 23, 24, 25, you think you know a lot of stuff. I just cracked open the first of two textbooks that this prof was using, and I was like, "Oh, boy, do I know nothing and I'm teaching it in three weeks."  Then fast-forward, I end up digging in reading resources, listening to a lot of albums. I'll be honest with you, I hadn't really dug into the Beatles that much prior because there were so many other acts that I was interested in. Then I started listening to their catalog and the Rolling Stones, and again, that's a tiny scratch on the surface that doesn't include the other British bands like The Animals and The Who and Led Zeppelin and then John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers and all these other in-depth things you can go in. That's just the British blues scene.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right.  Jeff Brandt:  What I realized was in order to make this work and why I continued to want to do it, is what I would need to do is have what I would call kind of a surfacey understanding of about 300 to 400 acts in the entertainment business. Gradually bit by bit, the department would buy my recordings. I would go and dig in and listen to everything from Blind Lemon Jefferson to the Spice Girls. I would just year-by-year chip away. When you get into a subject like counted cross-stitch or skiing or building doors, you get better at it and you realize ways to enjoy it more.  I got to a point where I created my final, what I call my final set of slides, and I really, really carefully planned out the layout of the slides, how the format of the class was going to move and how I was going to justify only featuring certain artists as opposed to leaving out bands, like the one I always pick on is AC/DC because they're not really a part of the course. That's why I do it and why I like to do it, because it's like anything else where you get into it, then you kind of become addicted once you have a little taste.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah, yeah, I get that. Year after year, how do I want to say this? Let me do it this way. What do you hope students get out of your class?  Jeff Brandt:  Well, there are these objectives that we write in the syllabus that you're supposed to abide by, et cetera, et cetera, and I do, but what I really want people to get out of the course is I want them to understand a general approach, or I guess have a general understanding of the social history that rock and roll highlights in America. That's one thing.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Okay.  Jeff Brandt:  I want them to understand that rock and roll is not white, it's not Elvis Presley, it's not AC/DC, it's not, even though I love them, it's not Metallica. It is something that came about quite by accident and through a lot of pain. That part is kind of an inconvenient truth that some students don't like. I have to warn people in the beginning, "I'm not going to sugar coat this, I'm going to bring it directly to you. Some of the things are inconvenient truths that you may not have faced prior. Depending on how invested you are in learning as a person, it may buck your understanding of how this thing has worked."  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  Just for example, the inconvenient truth, like I was mentioning today that Elvis Presley is a cover artist. Bill Haley is a cover artist.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Mm-hmm.  Jeff Brandt:  They're not original rock and roll artists.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right.  Jeff Brandt:  The original rock and roll artists are people like Chuck Berry and Little Richard and Bo Diddley and all of the artists on Chess Records. Those are the original rock and roll artists, but because of the unfortunate existence of so much racism in our country, a lot of those people were shoved aside because it was easier to market people with light skin.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  So interesting.  Jeff Brandt:  That's another thing I wanted to go with and maybe if I'm going to highlight a third thing I want them to go away with, is an understanding that you can listen to more than one subgenre within rock and roll. You get people that are "metalheads" and people that are into techno pop or house or people that seventies rock, or here's another category I have, people that love the sixties. They have blinders on. If it's between '64 and '69, it's in, and if it's '70 and on, it's out. The understanding that if you listen to pick your artist, like name a person, let's just pick like Katy Perry. If you listen to Katy Perry and you put hours into it, you will grow to like that artist. If you listen to Destiny's Child, you will grow, if you listen to Frank Zappa, you will grow to like it. I want express in that third point that it takes time to do that, and it's an investment and it's a willing investment.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  It's very interesting. I appreciate what you're sharing, and again, after hearing what you had to say here just a few moments ago, it has changed how I look at certain things. What I liked about it, it helps understand the culture, understand music in general, where it comes from. I mean, I have a greater sensitivity. Yeah, I just thought it was very good.  Jeff Brandt:  Well, it's almost like one thing along those lines, it's almost like with Louis Armstrong.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  Louis Armstrong was this one of several trumpet or cornet players as they were originally, in the early jazz era that was a soloist and gained a following from the general public, the general population in the United States. Now, Louis was seen as a performer on stage, but at the same time, he couldn't stay in the same hotels, he couldn't eat in the same restaurants.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right.  Jeff Brandt:  He could walk on stage in a club, but not eat at the restaurant in the club.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah. Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  He would've to be fed backstage and those kind of inconvenient truths to uncover that for people in a day when I think it's easy to brush that aside and highlight that he was an ambassador to the world in the 1970s. Yeah, in the seventies he was, but for the majority of his time as a performer, he was only respected as a performer, not as a human being.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Wow. I agree with you, that is a great message I think. God bless. These are important things.  Jeff Brandt:  I mean, I think that, and another thing that's along those lines too, it's a little bit of a stretch as a parallel, but it is a parallel, is that performers in rock and roll, many times are actors.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Okay.  Jeff Brandt:  If you're in a heavy metal band and you're acting all angry on stage and chugging it away on your guitar up there and singing these lyrics that are full of vitriol, that doesn't necessarily define who you were at breakfast at 10 o'clock that morning or who you are when you're off tour with your wife and kids or with your partner at the winery or whatever. That's a different thing. There are a lot of people that can't get past that. They see name your hard rock artist, "That's an evil person." That person puts on sweatpants, watches reruns of shows that we all like on Netflix, enjoys a donut every now and again, and takes a walk with dog.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  They're just real people, right?  Jeff Brandt:  They're real people. That part is also misunderstood about rock and roll in the same way that people can't or don't want to unveil the truth about black artists.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right. Right. One of the things, we talked a little bit last night, and again, you were sharing this in your presentation, one of the things that really sort of struck me was your comments about synthesizers. I'm a guy that likes that sound, but I didn't fully appreciate its impact and the evolution and how that impacted the artists of the day. I guess I'd have to honestly say I'm still not sure where you come out on synthesizing. Is that a good thing? Is it a bad thing? I'd be curious, what's your thought about?  Jeff Brandt:  Okay. Well, I mean, I own a synthesizer. Every band I've played in has used a synthesizer.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Okay.  Jeff Brandt:  I'm not against synthesizers. I also don't dislike house music. I don't dislike techno pop. I don't dislike the synth revolution that happened in the late, let's call it the late seventies to the early eighties where it exploded, where everybody had to have a Yamaha DX7. I don't dislike that. What I think is problematic, is the idea that this machine is everything.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right.  Jeff Brandt:  I think the other part that's problematic is that, and this is going to make me sound like I'm super old because my instrument, my main instrument is drum set. People will ask me, "Well, why haven't you dug into this or this or this about the history of rock and roll?" I say, "Well, I also practice instruments and I have a passion for playing them." To me, it's not just about reading and regurgitating facts, it's about keeping up my musical skills. What happens when you get into the world of synth is to some degree, you lose the world of any sort of musical technique because the machine can do so much of it for you.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Okay. Right.  Jeff Brandt:  I think that the bad side of synth is highlighted like groups like Human League, because if you look at a group like Human League and they're early stuff, it sounds like, da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da, it's very robotic and synthesized, as we should say, in the sense that everything is exactly placed on the exact moment of the exact quarter of the beat. That there is no doubt in your mind exactly where the center of the beat is. You can press a button and the synthesizer can do that. Whereas on piano, you have to go to make the same da-da-da-da-da-da, you have to go like fingers, 4, 3, 2, 1, da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da over and over again to make that same key do that. To some degree, whenever electronics jump to the next level, we lose a tiny bit of our ability to perform on those instruments.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Okay. Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  Like with synth, you lose a little bit of ability to perform on a general keyboard. With electric guitar, you lose a little bit of ability to perform on an acoustic guitar. With electric drums, you lose a little bit of ability to play an acoustic drum set. I mean, imagine if there was an electric French horn, for example. French horn is one of the most difficult instruments to play, right?  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right, of course.  Jeff Brandt:  Period. I mean, it's like a French horn. Missing notes on a French horn is a Monday, that's normal. You can't avoid it. Imagine if there were a way to synthesize so that it would know that your note was going to be missed by your embouchure, and it would bring the correct note out. We would lose some of the, maybe the desire to practice and get it to where we are. That's where I feel it's the bad side of synth. But in general, I'm with you. I like the sound of the synthesizer. I like the ideas you can get from the synthesizer. I even like the drum ideas that you get from a synthesizer. I think that we were talking about last night, it's like you can go too far with something, where you need to think about reining it back in. It's like alcohol. It's like collecting cars.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah. Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  It's like colors of carpet in your home. At what point in time do you say enough is enough.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah. Yeah. Well, my interest in this, it's my understanding again, that when this technology, as it sort of evolved and really became mainstream, there were a lot of responses. One of which was this is going to put people out of work because it was the Moody Blues, you could go and see the orchestra.  Jeff Brandt:  Didn't need the spring place.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  It changes. I hear you can lose some skill sets because the machine is doing it for you, but it also brings about, I think, some creativity. It seems to me once the revolution happened, the music industry didn't go away, but how it works changed.  Jeff Brandt:  Yes.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  We're at a point where I think, and even involved where, we're having all kinds of discussions and reactions with the evolution of generative AI.  Jeff Brandt:  Mm-hmm.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  There are people saying, "This is going to take jobs away from all kinds of people," not just musicians with the synth, but I also can see that this could bring about some incredible creativity opportunities, allowing just the exploration of music to go far further in directions we've made never even think of right now.  Jeff Brandt:  Right. Right.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Could you do all sorts of things with tones, vocal tones, and I don't know.  Jeff Brandt:  Yes.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  What is your thought? Do you see this as a game changer? Is this much ado about nothing?  Jeff Brandt:  Well, first of all, I think that it's inevitable.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Okay.  Jeff Brandt:  You could use the Pandora's box example. Once Pandora's box is open, then it's open and you can't shut it again. Well, the synthesizer was going to be developed, I'll tell you why, is because it comes from the pipe organ.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Oh, really?  Jeff Brandt:  The pipe organ is the first synthesizer. The pipe organ has stops that create different sounds. If you study the pipe organ going way back, you look at real pipe organs, they have sounds on them where you pull stops out and make it sound like a flute and make it sound like a trumpet.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  I never thought about it that way, but you're right. Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  It has a pedal system because pipe organ players have to read three staves. They read treble, they read bass, and then they read sub bass, as I'll call it. I honestly don't know the exact term, but another bass clef for their feet. They're basically playing, no pun intended, a synthesizer with their feet, while they're playing two synths with their hands. That's the original synth. People that think that this came about in like '64, it's been around since Bach, and guess what? It's not going away.  I think the part about the synthesizer and change, is that it is inevitable that AI along with that new technologies will enter where new possibilities will come up. I think that the good side, is some things are a little bit easier for us to do. For example, Pro Tools is a program where you can click into the program and cut right in, and it both takes the ambient sounds from before and the ambient sounds after and blends it together so you can't tell the person was clicked in at that moment. That's amazing. That makes it simpler.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right.  Jeff Brandt:  It saves money for people that own Pro, it saves time, and humans are generally speaking all about that. I mean, if there's a cherry tree here and there's a bigger cherry tree across the river and you're like, "I'm going to stay with this cherry tree right here because I don't want to cross the river." That's what we would literally call the lowest hanging fruit.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right.  Jeff Brandt:  With a synthesizer, if there is an option to make something a little bit simpler, people are going to use it. Again, there's the when is when part, when is enough enough? When is too much, too much, is what I mean. I think with AI, it's going to inevitably bring up other options that we haven't thought of, and it's inevitably going to bring about sounds or feelings or grooves or patterns that will catch people's ears that you cannot create with guitar rhythm guitar standard acoustic bass, or electric acoustic bass and drums, and we like that change.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Speaking personally, is your, I guess, conclusion or do you see the rise of AI, generative AI then, as a positive development? Are you optimistic looking forward to see what the music industry does with this? Or is it cautious optimism?  Jeff Brandt:  I'd say it's cautious optimism because it is true, for example, let's just go with trucks, there are trucks now that can be self-driven.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right.  Jeff Brandt:  I don't necessarily think that's a good thing. First of all, I think that we can put things on trains, and I know I sound like a total socialist here, but you can put things on trains and all of those cars are "self-driven" by the one engineer up there, and it's very efficient. Trucks that are self-driven will become a problem at some point because you can hack into that.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yes.  Jeff Brandt:  You can't hack into a human's mind nearly as easy, so there's that.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  I think that it's good to have the humans operating things.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  At the same time with the music business and recording, if you go back to the sixties and then the seventies, you had tons of studios that were busy hour by hour, day by day, week by week. You'd have to book into that studio six months in advance to get a four-hour space.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right.  Jeff Brandt:  Now, there are studios that are completely abandoned because they've moved into people's homes because of the laptop, because of microphones like the one we're using right here, and because of the synthesizer. Is it good or is it worse? It's change.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  That's what it is.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  Is it going to affect having lots and lots of people play a string track versus using a synthesizer to simply overdub things? Yes, it's going to affect that. Is it going to affect it to the point where somebody goes to a symphony orchestra or a jazz concert and they see 18 mannequins on stage holding up instruments, and all of it comes from a synthesizer? I doubt it because we like to watch artists perform.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  Like with hip-hop, almost all of the time in the hip-hop genre or any sub-genre or sub-sub-genre of hip-hop, you have people that are using synthesizers to create the entire track other than the vocals. They're even manipulating the vocals using the synth. When they go on tour, now, increasingly there are people that are using instrumentalists on tour because it's more interesting to look at.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  That makes sense, yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  You don't want just two turntables and a microphone back there because that's all it is.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah. Yeah. Why pay all the money to go?  Jeff Brandt:  When you go on tour, it's convenient for artists like Mariah Carey to just take the synths and go out there, but she knows that when she can afford to hire the string players, it looks cool.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah. Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  I think it's a case of are you going to see the glass as half full or half empty? It's here. It's been here since the pipe organ. It's going to stay. It's a question of when do you say enough is enough, and how do you look at it from your perspective as a musician? I guess I'd add one more thing. If you're afraid of the synthesizer, learn to use one. Right there.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah, absolutely. Yeah. I really, really appreciate and love everything that you've shared. Folks, one of the reasons I wanted to do this, as you well are aware, our profession is struggling. There's a lot of people that are very much embracing the AI evolution and a lot of others very, very concerned about will they have a job. A lot of legal staff are concerned, "Will I have a job in a couple more years?" I'm using AI myself to do a lot of writing, and it's saving me tons of time, and it elevates my game. It really does. I still am the one that policy, it's an idea generator for me.  Getting back to this, I'm hoping that it is helpful to you who are listening, as we think about the challenges, the concerns, work through this, it's easier to hear and get some thoughts about how we should be responding or what do we do with all this, when we talk about it in the context of something else. Discussing this as it relates to music, I think is very eye-opening. I love the comment, you are absolutely right this synthesizer.  Jeff Brandt:  It's hard to say.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  I always get tongue-twisted.  Jeff Brandt:  It's really tough to say.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  It's been around since Bach.  Jeff Brandt:  It's been around since the organ.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  I never really understood that. I think some similar things can be said about AI. It's been here a lot longer than we realize. Not in the same way, generative AI is certainly very, very new. I am cautiously optimistic about it. I would encourage you folks to just take a realistic look, take some opportunities, if you're threatened by it, pick up the instrument and learn it, and it can help your practice. I just think it's a positive thing overall. We got to be careful going too far. I can keep rambling on about this stuff for a long time. I have so many planes in my head up right now.  Jeff Brandt:  Well, there's one more thing that's worth adding.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Please, please.  Jeff Brandt:  There's a drummer in LA named Greg Bissonette.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yes.  Jeff Brandt:  He's a studio drummer. He went to University of North Texas. He's played with lots of different artists. Greg Bissonette has always made his living playing drums.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Okay.  Jeff Brandt:  Now, when he first entered the studio scene in Los Angeles, as far as I know, he was going to studios and recording. You'd get your drums carted over to the studio by a carting service. You'd show up, you'd play the gig, which was a recording gig, and then you would pack your stuff up or the carting service would pack your stuff up. You'd go home and you'd be waiting for your next booked gig. Now, Greg has a microphone set up in his home. People send him a file. He listens to the file. There's maybe a click track on it, or maybe not, maybe he has to create his note. I mean, I don't know him personally, but if you need a reference for Greg Bissonette, he played all of the in-between clips on the Friends show.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Oh, seriously?  Jeff Brandt:  He's that guy and he's done a lot more than that. Understand that the convenience of somebody emailing you a file or dropping a file in a box and you download this file and then go ahead and say, "Okay, I'm going to add drums to this track," and you do it from your home studio. There are some good things about this. Number one, he's not driving a car in LA traffic to a studio, which means he gets to spend more time at home and more time with his family. That's better for the environment. Electric car or not, it's better.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Agreed.  Jeff Brandt:  Okay. It doesn't have the same in-person work environment that you had say in the sixties when the Fab Four or the Rolling Stones are right there together, hashing it out like, "What does this mean?" That's different. The truth of the matter is, I don't think anybody who's listening to something Greg Bissonette has recorded probably would go, "Oh, well, this obviously is something this guy did at his home studio with the downloaded file." In that way, it doesn't matter. Again, it's a choice of how do you want to do the track? Is it a jazz band? You probably need to come together and play. Is it a digital track and they want live drums on it?  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  Send it, who cares?  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right.  Jeff Brandt:  Again, this idea of change is the only constant. I mean, maybe I'll be eating my own words and I'll be replaced by a robot that has all of the personality of a human being and knows every single history of rock and roll fact. Sure. Maybe that'll happen. I doubt it. People like Greg Bissonette are still out there finding a creative way to make a living simply because they went, "Oh, now I need the studio at home. Oh, now I need this technology so that the files can be sent to me. I need my microphones, everything tuned up."  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  You still find a way to do it, and I think that we will. I've never bought that line about AI and knock on wood, that it's going to come together and destroy the human race. I think that's silly.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah, I do too.  Jeff Brandt:  I think what it's going to do is it's going to be one of those things where we just have to be careful how we use it.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Mm-hmm. Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  I think you could say we have to be careful. We have to be careful about how we drive Hummers.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah.  Jeff Brandt:  We have to be careful about not making buildings too tall.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Right.  Jeff Brandt:  We have to be careful about not making wave machines so powerful that kids get knocked over when they're going to a wave machine at a water park to have fun. It's pretty simple stuff.  Mark Bassingthwaighte:  Yeah. I want to thank you for taking the time to sit down and talk. You have said so eloquently, things that I have trouble saying. I can't put it into words in the same way you do. All I can say is, folks, Jeff, the insights here, what I'm trying to get across, I hope it's self-evident now, you're summarizing all this just perfectly. That's it. I appreciate your coming. I'll let all of you get back to work. If you have any thoughts, questions, concerns on risk management, ethics, insurance, etc, remember, I'm not the Risk Manager of Alps, I'm hired by Alps to be your Risk Manager. Feel free to reach out anytime. It's MBass@Alpsinsurance.com. Good talking to you all. Take care. Bye-bye.   

Pete Prown is the author of The Ultimate Book of Blues Guitar Legends: The Players and Guitars That Shaped the Music. It features over 150 of the genre's greatest players and performers from the prewar era to present. From blues pioneers like Robert Johnson, Son House, Blind Lemon Jefferson, and Memphis Minnie to today's hottest guitar slingers like Derek Trucks, Joe Bonamassa, Gary Clark Jr., and Samantha Fish, Prown presents his subjects by blues-defining eras and subgenres, including: early acoustic and country blues, Chicago blues, the British Invasion, blues rock, and more. Examine specific noteworthy guitars each player made famous, as well as effects pedals, amplifiers, and career overviews that include the players' first-person revelations and insights.Purchase a copy of The Ultimate Book of Blues Guitar Legends: The Players and Guitars That Shaped the MusicVisit PetPrown.com Episode Playlist ---------- BookedOnRock.com The Booked On Rock YouTube Channel Follow The Booked On Rock with Eric Senich:FACEBOOKINSTAGRAMTIKTOKX Find Your Nearest Independent Bookstore Contact The Booked On Rock Podcast: thebookedonrockpodcast@gmail.com The Booked On Rock Music: “Whoosh” by Crowander / “Last Train North” & “No Mercy” by TrackTribe

It's the final episode of Patrick's Old-Time Music Week and he wraps things up with a discussion of three important blind singers of the country blues: Blind Lemon Jefferson, Blind Blake and Blind Willie McTell.  Rockin' the Suburbs on Apple Podcasts/iTunes or other podcast platforms, including audioBoom, Spotify, Google Podcasts, Amazon, iHeart, Stitcher and TuneIn. Or listen at SuburbsPod.com. Please rate/review the show on Apple Podcasts and share it with your friends. Visit our website at SuburbsPod.com Email Jim & Patrick at rock@suburbspod.com Follow us on the Threads, Facebook or Instagram @suburbspod If you're glad or sad or high, call the Suburban Party Line — 612-440-1984. Theme music: "Ascension," originally by Quartjar, covered by Frank Muffin. Visit quartjar.bandcamp.com and frankmuffin.bandcamp.com.

 | Artist  | Title  | Album Name  | Album Copyright  | Jo Ann Kelly  | Walking The Dog  | Do It and More  |   | Frank Frost  | Just Like A Rabbit  | Midnight Prowler  |   | Josh White  | One for My Baby  | The Elektra Years  |   | Corey Harris  | That Will Never Happen No More  | Fulton Blues  |   | Jake Leg Jug Band  | Who Rolled the Stone Away  | Live At The Audley Theatre [with chatter]  | Big Bill Broonzy  | Tadpole Blues  | Complete Recorded Works in Chronological Order Vol. 1  | Mary Lane  | Leave That Wine Alone  | Mary Lane -Travelin' Woman  | Mudslide Charley  | Lil' Miss Molasses  | Clearwater Junction  |   | Cary Moskovitz and Friends  | Drop That Sack  | Papa Charlie Done Sung That Song Vol 1 (New Interpretations)  | Bonnie Raitt  | Thank You Live  | The Lost Broadcast: Philadelphia 1972  | Blind Lemon Jefferson & George Perkins (P)  | Rising High Water Blues  | Complete Recorded Works In Chronological Order  | Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee  | Come on, If You're Coming - [ASH GROVE 1-21-1967 1ST SHOW]  | Ash Grove 01-21-1967 1st Show  | The Georgia Browns  | Next Door Man (Take 1)  | Curley Weaver (1933-1935)  | Stomping Dave Allen, Sam Kelly & Jules Bushell  | Beaking Down (Allen)  | Live From The Sticks (live)  | Andres Roots  | Dromedary  | Vol 12  |   |   | Lightnin' Hopkins  | Traveller's Blues  | Blues Master Works: Lightnin' Hopkins

John's Old Time Radio Show THE INFLUENCE OF BLIND LEMON JEFFERSON. John Heneghan plays fabulous 78 rpm records from his record collection of various guitarists from the 1920's & 30's who were listening to the Texas Blues master.

Records left off of previous shows, including: It's a Sin to Tell a Lie by the Ink Spots, When Winter Comes by Mary Healy, Swing Them Jingle Bells by Fats Waller, Worried Blues by Gladys Bentley and Prison Cell Blues by Blind Lemon Jefferson. 

Performers include: Blind Lemon Jefferson, Victoria Spivey, T-Bone Walker, Ida Mae Mack, Lightnin Hopkins, Blind Willie Johnson and Harmonica Slim. Songs include: Don't Trust Nobody, God Don't Never Change, Big Mama Jump, Howlin Wolf Blue and You Better Believe It.   

There's going to be a free form mix of sounds this week with some ‘scenes of devastation' as well as some blues and tradition. We'll set the tone with a song that inspired the title lines from The Pine Hill Project and then head into some tradition and some covers that speak in the language of the sacred and secular…from Saturday night at the juke to Sunday morning in the pew. A great mix of sounds from some classic female blues gems from the 1940s like Wea Bea Booze and Ethel Waters. We'll also go down to the crossroads and Deep Elem with the likes of Champion Jack Dupree and T-Bone Walker, some deeper/darker blues from Geeshie Wiley and Blind Lemon Jefferson as well. But we'll also fill the air with the tops in great interpretations from Van Dyke Parks, Willie Watson and Bob Brozman. Join us for some ‘last kind words' from the Rocky Road Blues to James Alley on a Friday morning in West County.

Records left off of previous podcasts, along with a tribute to musics whom we lost this year. Performers include: Sarah Vaughn, Frank Sinatra, Artie Shaw, Les Paul, Moriz Rosenthal, Dick "Two Ton" Baker, Blind Lemon Jefferson and Fred Astaire. 

Nous allons ouvrir un gros dossier :  "Crossroad blues ». Cet épisode va nous permettre de parler du morceau mythique et fondateur « Crossroad» ou crossroad blues et l'histoire des début discographique du blues, De Cream le premier supergroupe de l'histoire du rock, et pour finir  du mythe de Robert Johnson et du ramassis de conneries qui l'accompagnent. Cet épisode sera donc en 3 parties…. PLAYLIST The Bonzo Dog Band, "Can Blue Men Sing the Whites ?" "One O' Them Things" The Victor Military Band, "Memphis Blues" Ciro's Club Coon Orchestra, "St. Louis Blues" Bert Williams, "I'm Sorry I Ain't Got It You Could Have It If I Had It Blues", Mamie Smith, "Crazy Blues" Ma Rainey, "See See Rider Blues" Bessie Smith, "Give Me a Pigfoot and a Bottle of Beer" Reese DuPree, "Norfolk Blues" Papa Charlie Jackson, "Airy Man Blues" Blind Blake, "Southern Rag" Blind Lemon Jefferson, "Got the Blues" Big Bill Broonzy, "The Glory of Love" Son House, Mississippi County Farm Blues" Skip James, "Twenty-Two Twenty Blues" Skip James, "Hard Time Killing Floor Blues" Charlie Patton, "Poor Me" The Mississippi Sheiks, "Sitting on Top of the World" Tommy Johnson, "Big Road Blues" The Staple Singers, "Will The Circle Be Unbroken" Robert Johnson, "Crossroads" Willie Brown, "M&O Blues" Howlin' Wolf, "Smokestack Lightnin' Charlie Patton, "34 Blues" John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, "It Ain't Right" Alexis Korner et Davey Graham, "3/4 AD" John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, "Crawling up a Hill (45 version)" Blues Incorporated, "Hoochie Coochie Man (BBC session)" " At the Jazz Band Ball" The Don Rendell Quintet, "Manumission" Duffy Power, "I Saw Her Standing There" The Graham Bond Quartet, "Ho Ho Country Kicking Blues (Live at Klooks Kleek)" The Graham Bond Organisation, "Long Tall Shorty" Duffy Power, "Parchman Farm" Bande Annonce : Gonks Go Beat !

Exploring the Soulful Melodies of Blues Christmas Music Journey through the evocative world of blues Christmas music, discovering its historical roots and modern interpretations that have shaped holiday traditions. As the holiday season unfolds, the rich and emotional world of blues Christmas music offers a unique auditory experience. This genre, known for its heartfelt expressions and deep-rooted cultural significance, beautifully intertwines with the festive spirit, creating a distinct blend of melancholy and joy. The tradition of blues in Christmas music stretches back to the genre's early days. Pioneers like Blind Lemon Jefferson masterfully combined their soulful melodies with festive themes, imparting a poignant depth to the holiday season. Jefferson, who tragically passed just before Christmas in 1929, left an enduring legacy in this niche, highlighting the blues' capacity to convey a spectrum of human emotions during this joyous time. Featured Blues Christmas Songs and Artists Lightnin' Hopkins - "Merry Christmas": A classic released in 1953, this song exemplifies the traditional blues sound infused with holiday cheer, showcasing Hopkins' storytelling prowess. Jimmy Witherspoon - "How I Hate To See Xmas Come Around": This 1948 melancholic classic reflects the blues' ability to express the more somber aspects of the festive season. Sister Rosetta Tharpe - "O Little Town of Bethlehem": A gospel-blues rendition of a classic carol, highlighting Tharpe's spiritual roots and vocal power. Charles Brown - "Merry Christmas": A pivotal 1947 track that has become a cornerstone in the blues Christmas music repertoire. Chuck Berry - "Spending Christmas": Berry's 1964 ballad, a sentimental deviation from his usual upbeat style, showcases the emotional range of blues during Christmas. Albert King - "Christmas (Comes But Once A Year)": An illustration of how blues can adapt and evolve, blending festive cheer with soulful rhythms. Clarence Carter - "Back Door Santa": A playful and funky 1968 song that adds a unique narrative to Christmas music. The blues genre's adaptability is further exemplified by contemporary artists who have reinterpreted classic Christmas blues songs. Eric Clapton's 2018 Christmas album and Darlene Love's "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)" are prime examples of how modern musicians infuse blues elements into holiday music, bridging genres and generations. The emotional depth and versatility of blues music shine particularly bright during the holiday season. Its ability to encapsulate the range of festive emotions, from reflective melancholy to joyous celebration, is what makes blues Christmas music a timeless and integral part of holiday traditions. For a deeper exploration of blues Christmas music, visit our curated playlists on Spotify and Amazon Music. Delve further into this soulful holiday journey at www.theblueslegacy.com. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/theblueslegacy/message

 | Artist  | Title  | Album Name  | Album Copyright  |  | John Hammond  | Going Away Baby  | Timeless  |   |   |  | Blind Lemon Jefferson  | Lemon's Cannon Ball Moan  | Classic Blues Artwork From  the 1920's | Snooks Eaglin  | Mama Don't You Tear My Clothes  | That's Alright  |   |  | Michael Messer  | Big Wind  | Second Mind 2002  |   |  | Fiona Boyes  | Easy Baby  | Box & Dice  |   |  | Blind Willie Reynolds  | Third Street Woman Blues  | When The Levee Breaks, Mississippi Blues (Rare Cuts CD A)  | 2007 JSP Records  |  | Pistol Pete Wearn  | The Clansman  | Blues, Ballads & Barnstormers  |  | Blind Willie McTell  | Mama, 'Tain't Long Fo' Day  | Complete Recorded Works, Vol. 1 (1927-1931) | Doc Watson and Gaither Carlton  | The Dream of the Miner's Child  | Doc Watson and Gaither Carlton  | Smithsonian Folkways | Charles -Cow Cow- Davenport  | -Cow Cow's- Stomp  | Complete Recorded Works, Vol. 2  (1929-1945) | Tom Doughty  | Milky Tea  | You Can't Teach An Old Dog  |  | David Evans  | The Devil  | Lonesome Midnight Dream  |  | The Jake Leg Jug Band  | St. James Infirmary Blues  | Hello Central  |   |  | Half Deaf Clatch  | Fixin' To Die  | Tribute to Bukka White  | 

Episode 169 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Piece of My Heart" and the short, tragic life of Janis Joplin. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a half-hour bonus episode available, on "Spinning Wheel" by Blood, Sweat & Tears. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ Resources There are two Mixcloud mixes this time. As there are so many songs by Big Brother and the Holding Company and Janis Joplin excerpted, and Mixcloud won't allow more than four songs by the same artist in any mix, I've had to post the songs not in quite the same order in which they appear in the podcast. But the mixes are here — one, two . For information on Janis Joplin I used three biographies -- Scars of Sweet Paradise by Alice Echols, Janis: Her Life and Music by Holly George-Warren, and Buried Alive by Myra Friedman. I also referred to the chapter '“Being Good Isn't Always Easy": Aretha Franklin, Janis Joplin, Dusty Springfield, and the Color of Soul' in Just Around Midnight: Rock and Roll and the Racial Imagination by Jack Hamilton. Some information on Bessie Smith came from Bessie Smith by Jackie Kay, a book I can't really recommend given the lack of fact-checking, and Bessie by Chris Albertson. I also referred to Blues Legacies and Black Feminism: Gertrude “Ma” Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Billie Holiday by Angela Y. Davis And the best place to start with Joplin's music is this five-CD box, which contains both Big Brother and the Holding Company albums she was involved in, plus her two studio albums and bonus tracks. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Before I start, this episode contains discussion of drug addiction and overdose, alcoholism, mental illness, domestic abuse, child abandonment, and racism. If those subjects are likely to cause you upset, you may want to check the transcript or skip this one rather than listen. Also, a subject I should probably say a little more about in this intro because I know I have inadvertently caused upset to at least one listener with this in the past. When it comes to Janis Joplin, it is *impossible* to talk about her without discussing her issues with her weight and self-image. The way I write often involves me paraphrasing the opinions of the people I'm writing about, in a mode known as close third person, and sometimes that means it can look like I am stating those opinions as my own, and sometimes things I say in that mode which *I* think are obviously meant in context to be critiques of those attitudes can appear to others to be replicating them. At least once, I have seriously upset a fat listener when talking about issues related to weight in this manner. I'm going to try to be more careful here, but just in case, I'm going to say before I begin that I think fatphobia is a pernicious form of bigotry, as bad as any other form of bigotry. I'm fat myself and well aware of how systemic discrimination affects fat people. I also think more generally that the pressure put on women to look a particular way is pernicious and disgusting in ways I can't even begin to verbalise, and causes untold harm. If *ANYTHING* I say in this episode comes across as sounding otherwise, that's because I haven't expressed myself clearly enough. Like all people, Janis Joplin had negative characteristics, and at times I'm going to say things that are critical of those. But when it comes to anything to do with her weight or her appearance, if *anything* I say sounds critical of her, rather than of a society that makes women feel awful for their appearance, it isn't meant to. Anyway, on with the show. On January the nineteenth, 1943, Seth Joplin typed up a letter to his wife Dorothy, which read “I wish to tender my congratulations on the anniversary of your successful completion of your production quota for the nine months ending January 19, 1943. I realize that you passed through a period of inflation such as you had never before known—yet, in spite of this, you met your goal by your supreme effort during the early hours of January 19, a good three weeks ahead of schedule.” As you can probably tell from that message, the Joplin family were a strange mixture of ultraconformism and eccentricity, and those two opposing forces would dominate the personality of their firstborn daughter for the whole of her life.  Seth Joplin was a respected engineer at Texaco, where he worked for forty years, but he had actually dropped out of engineering school before completing his degree. His favourite pastime when he wasn't at work was to read -- he was a voracious reader -- and to listen to classical music, which would often move him to tears, but he had also taught himself to make bathtub gin during prohibition, and smoked cannabis. Dorothy, meanwhile, had had the possibility of a singing career before deciding to settle down and become a housewife, and was known for having a particularly beautiful soprano voice. Both were, by all accounts, fiercely intelligent people, but they were also as committed as anyone to the ideals of the middle-class family even as they chafed against its restrictions. Like her mother, young Janis had a beautiful soprano voice, and she became a soloist in her church choir, but after the age of six, she was not encouraged to sing much. Dorothy had had a thyroid operation which destroyed her singing voice, and the family got rid of their piano soon after (different sources say that this was either because Dorothy found her daughter's singing painful now that she couldn't sing herself, or because Seth was upset that his wife could no longer sing. Either seems plausible.) Janis was pushed to be a high-achiever -- she was given a library card as soon as she could write her name, and encouraged to use it, and she was soon advanced in school, skipping a couple of grades. She was also by all accounts a fiercely talented painter, and her parents paid for art lessons. From everything one reads about her pre-teen years, she was a child prodigy who was loved by everyone and who was clearly going to be a success of some kind. Things started to change when she reached her teenage years. Partly, this was just her getting into rock and roll music, which her father thought a fad -- though even there, she differed from her peers. She loved Elvis, but when she heard "Hound Dog", she loved it so much that she tracked down a copy of Big Mama Thornton's original, and told her friends she preferred that: [Excerpt: Big Mama Thornton, "Hound Dog"] Despite this, she was still also an exemplary student and overachiever. But by the time she turned fourteen, things started to go very wrong for her. Partly this was just down to her relationship with her father changing -- she adored him, but he became more distant from his daughters as they grew into women. But also, puberty had an almost wholly negative effect on her, at least by the standards of that time and place. She put on weight (which, again, I do not think is a negative thing, but she did, and so did everyone around her), she got a bad case of acne which didn't ever really go away, and she also didn't develop breasts particularly quickly -- which, given that she was a couple of years younger than the other people in the same classes at school, meant she stood out even more. In the mid-sixties, a doctor apparently diagnosed her as having a "hormone imbalance" -- something that got to her as a possible explanation for why she was, to quote from a letter she wrote then, "not really a woman or enough of one or something." She wondered if "maybe something as simple as a pill could have helped out or even changed that part of me I call ME and has been so messed up.” I'm not a doctor and even if I were, diagnosing historical figures is an unethical thing to do, but certainly the acne, weight gain, and mental health problems she had are all consistent with PCOS, the most common endocrine disorder among women, and it seems likely given what the doctor told her that this was the cause. But at the time all she knew was that she was different, and that in the eyes of her fellow students she had gone from being pretty to being ugly. She seems to have been a very trusting, naive, person who was often the brunt of jokes but who desperately needed to be accepted, and it became clear that her appearance wasn't going to let her fit into the conformist society she was being brought up in, while her high intelligence, low impulse control, and curiosity meant she couldn't even fade into the background. This left her one other option, and she decided that she would deliberately try to look and act as different from everyone else as possible. That way, it would be a conscious choice on her part to reject the standards of her fellow pupils, rather than her being rejected by them. She started to admire rebels. She became a big fan of Jerry Lee Lewis, whose music combined the country music she'd grown up hearing in Texas, the R&B she liked now, and the rebellious nature she was trying to cultivate: [Excerpt: Jerry Lee Lewis, "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On"] When Lewis' career was derailed by his marriage to his teenage cousin, Joplin wrote an angry letter to Time magazine complaining that they had mistreated him in their coverage. But as with so many people of her generation, her love of rock and roll music led her first to the blues and then to folk, and she soon found herself listening to Odetta: [Excerpt: Odetta, "Muleskinner Blues"] One of her first experiences of realising she could gain acceptance from her peers by singing was when she was hanging out with the small group of Bohemian teenagers she was friendly with, and sang an Odetta song, mimicking her voice exactly. But young Janis Joplin was listening to an eclectic range of folk music, and could mimic more than just Odetta. For all that her later vocal style was hugely influenced by Odetta and by other Black singers like Big Mama Thornton and Etta James, her friends in her late teens and early twenties remember her as a vocal chameleon with an achingly pure soprano, who would more often than Odetta be imitating the great Appalachian traditional folk singer Jean Ritchie: [Excerpt: Jean Ritchie, "Lord Randall"] She was, in short, trying her best to become a Beatnik, despite not having any experience of that subculture other than what she read in books -- though she *did* read about them in books, devouring things like Kerouac's On The Road. She came into conflict with her mother, who didn't understand what was happening to her daughter, and who tried to get family counselling to understand what was going on. Her father, who seemed to relate more to Janis, but who was more quietly eccentric, put an end to that, but Janis would still for the rest of her life talk about how her mother had taken her to doctors who thought she was going to end up "either in jail or an insane asylum" to use her words. From this point on, and for the rest of her life, she was torn between a need for approval from her family and her peers, and a knowledge that no matter what she did she couldn't fit in with normal societal expectations. In high school she was a member of the Future Nurses of America, the Future Teachers of America, the Art Club, and Slide Rule Club, but she also had a reputation as a wild girl, and as sexually active (even though by all accounts at this point she was far less so than most of the so-called "good girls" – but her later activity was in part because she felt that if she was going to have that reputation anyway she might as well earn it). She also was known to express radical opinions, like that segregation was wrong, an opinion that the other students in her segregated Texan school didn't even think was wrong, but possibly some sort of sign of mental illness. Her final High School yearbook didn't contain a single other student's signature. And her initial choice of university, Lamar State College of Technology, was not much better. In the next town over, and attended by many of the same students, it had much the same attitudes as the school she'd left. Almost the only long-term effect her initial attendance at university had on her was a negative one -- she found there was another student at the college who was better at painting. Deciding that if she wasn't going to be the best at something she didn't want to do it at all, she more or less gave up on painting at that point. But there was one positive. One of the lecturers at Lamar was Francis Edward "Ab" Abernethy, who would in the early seventies go on to become the Secretary and Editor of the Texas Folklore Society, and was also a passionate folk musician, playing double bass in string bands. Abernethy had a great collection of blues 78s. and it was through this collection that Janis first discovered classic blues, and in particular Bessie Smith: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Black Mountain Blues"] A couple of episodes ago, we had a long look at the history of the music that now gets called "the blues" -- the music that's based around guitars, and generally involves a solo male vocalist, usually Black during its classic period. At the time that music was being made though it wouldn't have been thought of as "the blues" with no modifiers by most people who were aware of it. At the start, even the songs they were playing weren't thought of as blues by the male vocalist/guitarists who played them -- they called the songs they played "reels". The music released by people like Blind Lemon Jefferson, Son House, Robert Johnson, Kokomo Arnold and so on was thought of as blues music, and people would understand and agree with a phrase like "Lonnie Johnson is a blues singer", but it wasn't the first thing people thought of when they talked about "the blues". Until relatively late -- probably some time in the 1960s -- if you wanted to talk about blues music made by Black men with guitars and only that music, you talked about "country blues". If you thought about "the blues", with no qualifiers, you thought about a rather different style of music, one that white record collectors started later to refer to as "classic blues" to differentiate it from what they were now calling "the blues". Nowadays of course if you say "classic blues", most people will think you mean Muddy Waters or John Lee Hooker, people who were contemporary at the time those white record collectors were coming up with their labels, and so that style of music gets referred to as "vaudeville blues", or as "classic female blues": [Excerpt: Mamie Smith, "Crazy Blues"] What we just heard was the first big blues hit performed by a Black person, from 1920, and as we discussed in the episode on "Crossroads" that revolutionised the whole record industry when it came out. The song was performed by Mamie Smith, a vaudeville performer, and was originally titled "Harlem Blues" by its writer, Perry Bradford, before he changed the title to "Crazy Blues" to get it to a wider audience. Bradford was an important figure in the vaudeville scene, though other than being the credited writer of "Keep A-Knockin'" he's little known these days. He was a Black musician and grew up playing in minstrel shows (the history of minstrelsy is a topic for another day, but it's more complicated than the simple image of blackface that we are aware of today -- though as with many "more complicated than that" things it is, also the simple image of blackface we're aware of). He was the person who persuaded OKeh records that there would be a market for music made by Black people that sounded Black (though as we're going to see in this episode, what "sounding Black" means is a rather loaded question). "Crazy Blues" was the result, and it was a massive hit, even though it was marketed specifically towards Black listeners: [Excerpt: Mamie Smith, "Crazy Blues"] The big stars of the early years of recorded blues were all making records in the shadow of "Crazy Blues", and in the case of its very biggest stars, they were working very much in the same mould. The two most important blues stars of the twenties both got their start in vaudeville, and were both women. Ma Rainey, like Mamie Smith, first performed in minstrel shows, but where Mamie Smith's early records had her largely backed by white musicians, Rainey was largely backed by Black musicians, including on several tracks Louis Armstrong: [Excerpt: Ma Rainey, "See See Rider"] Rainey's band was initially led by Thomas Dorsey, one of the most important men in American music, who we've talked about before in several episodes, including the last one. He was possibly the single most important figure in two different genres -- hokum music, when he, under the name "Georgia Tom" recorded "It's Tight Like That" with Tampa Red: [Excerpt: Tampa Red and Georgia Tom, "It's Tight Like That"] And of course gospel music, which to all intents and purposes he invented, and much of whose repertoire he wrote: [Excerpt: Mahalia Jackson, "Take My Hand, Precious Lord"] When Dorsey left Rainey's band, as we discussed right back in episode five, he was replaced by a female pianist, Lil Henderson. The blues was a woman's genre. And Ma Rainey was, by preference, a woman's woman, though she was married to a man: [Excerpt: Ma Rainey, "Prove it on Me"] So was the biggest star of the classic blues era, who was originally mentored by Rainey. Bessie Smith, like Rainey, was a queer woman who had relationships with men but was far more interested in other women.  There were stories that Bessie Smith actually got her start in the business by being kidnapped by Ma Rainey, and forced into performing on the same bills as her in the vaudeville show she was touring in, and that Rainey taught Smith to sing blues in the process. In truth, Rainey mentored Smith more in stagecraft and the ways of the road than in singing, and neither woman was only a blues singer, though both had huge success with their blues records.  Indeed, since Rainey was already in the show, Smith was initially hired as a dancer rather than a singer, and she also worked as a male impersonator. But Smith soon branched out on her own -- from the beginning she was obviously a star. The great jazz clarinettist Sidney Bechet later said of her "She had this trouble in her, this thing that would not let her rest sometimes, a meanness that came and took her over. But what she had was alive … Bessie, she just wouldn't let herself be; it seemed she couldn't let herself be." Bessie Smith was signed by Columbia Records in 1923, as part of the rush to find and record as many Black women blues singers as possible. Her first recording session produced "Downhearted Blues", which became, depending on which sources you read, either the biggest-selling blues record since "Crazy Blues" or the biggest-selling blues record ever, full stop, selling three quarters of a million copies in the six months after its release: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Downhearted Blues"] Smith didn't make royalties off record sales, only making a flat fee, but she became the most popular Black performer of the 1920s. Columbia signed her to an exclusive contract, and she became so rich that she would literally travel between gigs on her own private train. She lived an extravagant life in every way, giving lavishly to her friends and family, but also drinking extraordinary amounts of liquor, having regular affairs, and also often physically or verbally attacking those around her. By all accounts she was not a comfortable person to be around, and she seemed to be trying to fit an entire lifetime into every moment. From 1923 through 1929 she had a string of massive hits. She recorded material in a variety of styles, including the dirty blues: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Empty Bed Blues] And with accompanists like Louis Armstrong: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith with Louis Armstrong, "Cold in Hand Blues"] But the music for which she became best known, and which sold the best, was when she sang about being mistreated by men, as on one of her biggest hits, "'Tain't Nobody's Biz-Ness if I Do" -- and a warning here, I'm going to play a clip of the song, which treats domestic violence in a way that may be upsetting: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "'Tain't Nobody's Biz-Ness if I Do"] That kind of material can often seem horrifying to today's listeners -- and quite correctly so, as domestic violence is a horrifying thing -- and it sounds entirely too excusing of the man beating her up for anyone to find it comfortable listening. But the Black feminist scholar Angela Davis has made a convincing case that while these records, and others by Smith's contemporaries, can't reasonably be considered to be feminist, they *are* at the very least more progressive than they now seem, in that they were, even if excusing it, pointing to a real problem which was otherwise left unspoken. And that kind of domestic violence and abuse *was* a real problem, including in Smith's own life. By all accounts she was terrified of her husband, Jack Gee, who would frequently attack her because of her affairs with other people, mostly women. But she was still devastated when he left her for a younger woman, not only because he had left her, but also because he kidnapped their adopted son and had him put into a care home, falsely claiming she had abused him. Not only that, but before Jack left her closest friend had been Jack's niece Ruby and after the split she never saw Ruby again -- though after her death Ruby tried to have a blues career as "Ruby Smith", taking her aunt's surname and recording a few tracks with Sammy Price, the piano player who worked with Sister Rosetta Tharpe: [Excerpt: Ruby Smith with Sammy Price, "Make Me Love You"] The same month, May 1929, that Gee left her, Smith recorded what was to become her last big hit, and most well-known song, "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out": [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out"] And that could have been the theme for the rest of her life. A few months after that record came out, the Depression hit, pretty much killing the market for blues records. She carried on recording until 1931, but the records weren't selling any more. And at the same time, the talkies came in in the film industry, which along with the Depression ended up devastating the vaudeville audience. Her earnings were still higher than most, but only a quarter of what they had been a year or two earlier. She had one last recording session in 1933, produced by John Hammond for OKeh Records, where she showed that her style had developed over the years -- it was now incorporating the newer swing style, and featured future swing stars Benny Goodman and Jack Teagarden in the backing band: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Gimme a Pigfoot"] Hammond was not hugely impressed with the recordings, preferring her earlier records, and they would be the last she would ever make. She continued as a successful, though no longer record-breaking, live act until 1937, when she and her common-law husband, Lionel Hampton's uncle Richard Morgan, were in a car crash. Morgan escaped, but Smith died of her injuries and was buried on October the fourth 1937. Ten thousand people came to her funeral, but she was buried in an unmarked grave -- she was still legally married to Gee, even though they'd been separated for eight years, and while he supposedly later became rich from songwriting royalties from some of her songs (most of her songs were written by other people, but she wrote a few herself) he refused to pay for a headstone for her. Indeed on more than one occasion he embezzled money that had been raised by other people to provide a headstone. Bessie Smith soon became Joplin's favourite singer of all time, and she started trying to copy her vocals. But other than discovering Smith's music, Joplin seems to have had as terrible a time at university as at school, and soon dropped out and moved back in with her parents. She went to business school for a short while, where she learned some secretarial skills, and then she moved west, going to LA where two of her aunts lived, to see if she could thrive better in a big West Coast city than she did in small-town Texas. Soon she moved from LA to Venice Beach, and from there had a brief sojourn in San Francisco, where she tried to live out her beatnik fantasies at a time when the beatnik culture was starting to fall apart. She did, while she was there, start smoking cannabis, though she never got a taste for that drug, and took Benzedrine and started drinking much more heavily than she had before. She soon lost her job, moved back to Texas, and re-enrolled at the same college she'd been at before. But now she'd had a taste of real Bohemian life -- she'd been singing at coffee houses, and having affairs with both men and women -- and soon she decided to transfer to the University of Texas at Austin. At this point, Austin was very far from the cultural centre it has become in recent decades, and it was still a straitlaced Texan town, but it was far less so than Port Arthur, and she soon found herself in a folk group, the Waller Creek Boys. Janis would play autoharp and sing, sometimes Bessie Smith covers, but also the more commercial country and folk music that was popular at the time, like "Silver Threads and Golden Needles", a song that had originally been recorded by Wanda Jackson but at that time was a big hit for Dusty Springfield's group The Springfields: [Excerpt: The Waller Creek Boys, "Silver Threads and Golden Needles"] But even there, Joplin didn't fit in comfortably. The venue where the folk jams were taking place was a segregated venue, as everywhere around Austin was. And she was enough of a misfit that the campus newspaper did an article on her headlined "She Dares to Be Different!", which read in part "She goes barefooted when she feels like it, wears Levi's to class because they're more comfortable, and carries her Autoharp with her everywhere she goes so that in case she gets the urge to break out into song it will be handy." There was a small group of wannabe-Beatniks, including Chet Helms, who we've mentioned previously in the Grateful Dead episode, Gilbert Shelton, who went on to be a pioneer of alternative comics and create the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers, and Shelton's partner in Rip-Off Press, Dave Moriarty, but for the most part the atmosphere in Austin was only slightly better for Janis than it had been in Port Arthur. The final straw for her came when in an annual charity fundraiser joke competition to find the ugliest man on campus, someone nominated her for the "award". She'd had enough of Texas. She wanted to go back to California. She and Chet Helms, who had dropped out of the university earlier and who, like her, had already spent some time on the West Coast, decided to hitch-hike together to San Francisco. Before leaving, she made a recording for her ex-girlfriend Julie Paul, a country and western musician, of a song she'd written herself. It's recorded in what many say was Janis' natural voice -- a voice she deliberately altered in performance in later years because, she would tell people, she didn't think there was room for her singing like that in an industry that already had Joan Baez and Judy Collins. In her early years she would alternate between singing like this and doing her imitations of Black women, but the character of Janis Joplin who would become famous never sang like this. It may well be the most honest thing that she ever recorded, and the most revealing of who she really was: [Excerpt: Janis Joplin, "So Sad to Be Alone"] Joplin and Helms made it to San Francisco, and she started performing at open-mic nights and folk clubs around the Bay Area, singing in her Bessie Smith and Odetta imitation voice, and sometimes making a great deal of money by sounding different from the wispier-voiced women who were the norm at those venues. The two friends parted ways, and she started performing with two other folk musicians, Larry Hanks and Roger Perkins, and she insisted that they would play at least one Bessie Smith song at every performance: [Excerpt: Janis Joplin, Larry Hanks, and Roger Perkins, "Black Mountain Blues (live in San Francisco)"] Often the trio would be joined by Billy Roberts, who at that time had just started performing the song that would make his name, "Hey Joe", and Joplin was soon part of the folk scene in the Bay Area, and admired by Dino Valenti, David Crosby, and Jerry Garcia among others. She also sang a lot with Jorma Kaukonnen, and recordings of the two of them together have circulated for years: [Excerpt: Janis Joplin and Jorma Kaukonnen, "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out"] Through 1963, 1964, and early 1965 Joplin ping-ponged from coast to coast, spending time in the Bay Area, then Greenwich Village, dropping in on her parents then back to the Bay Area, and she started taking vast quantities of methamphetamine. Even before moving to San Francisco she had been an occasional user of amphetamines – at the time they were regularly prescribed to students as study aids during exam periods, and she had also been taking them to try to lose some of the weight she always hated. But while she was living in San Francisco she became dependent on the drug. At one point her father was worried enough about her health to visit her in San Francisco, where she managed to fool him that she was more or less OK. But she looked to him for reassurance that things would get better for her, and he couldn't give it to her. He told her about a concept that he called the "Saturday night swindle", the idea that you work all week so you can go out and have fun on Saturday in the hope that that will make up for everything else, but that it never does. She had occasional misses with what would have been lucky breaks -- at one point she was in a motorcycle accident just as record labels were interested in signing her, and by the time she got out of the hospital the chance had gone. She became engaged to another speed freak, one who claimed to be an engineer and from a well-off background, but she was becoming severely ill from what was by now a dangerous amphetamine habit, and in May 1965 she decided to move back in with her parents, get clean, and have a normal life. Her new fiance was going to do the same, and they were going to have the conformist life her parents had always wanted, and which she had always wanted to want. Surely with a husband who loved her she could find a way to fit in and just be normal. She kicked the addiction, and wrote her fiance long letters describing everything about her family and the new normal life they were going to have together, and they show her painfully trying to be optimistic about the future, like one where she described her family to him: "My mother—Dorothy—worries so and loves her children dearly. Republican and Methodist, very sincere, speaks in clichés which she really means and is very good to people. (She thinks you have a lovely voice and is terribly prepared to like you.) My father—richer than when I knew him and kind of embarrassed about it—very well read—history his passion—quiet and very excited to have me home because I'm bright and we can talk (about antimatter yet—that impressed him)! I keep telling him how smart you are and how proud I am of you.…" She went back to Lamar, her mother started sewing her a wedding dress, and for much of the year she believed her fiance was going to be her knight in shining armour. But as it happened, the fiance in question was described by everyone else who knew him as a compulsive liar and con man, who persuaded her father to give him money for supposed medical tests before the wedding, but in reality was apparently married to someone else and having a baby with a third woman. After the engagement was broken off, she started performing again around the coffeehouses in Austin and Houston, and she started to realise the possibilities of rock music for her kind of performance. The missing clue came from a group from Austin who she became very friendly with, the Thirteenth Floor Elevators, and the way their lead singer Roky Erickson would wail and yell: [Excerpt: The 13th Floor Elevators, "You're Gonna Miss Me (live)"] If, as now seemed inevitable, Janis was going to make a living as a performer, maybe she should start singing rock music, because it seemed like there was money in it. There was even some talk of her singing with the Elevators. But then an old friend came to Austin from San Francisco with word from Chet Helms. A blues band had formed, and were looking for a singer, and they remembered her from the coffee houses. Would she like to go back to San Francisco and sing with them? In the time she'd been away, Helms had become hugely prominent in the San Francisco music scene, which had changed radically. A band from the area called the Charlatans had been playing a fake-Victorian saloon called the Red Dog in nearby Nevada, and had become massive with the people who a few years earlier had been beatniks: [Excerpt: The Charlatans, "32-20"] When their residency at the Red Dog had finished, several of the crowd who had been regulars there had become a collective of sorts called the Family Dog, and Helms had become their unofficial leader. And there's actually a lot packed into that choice of name. As we'll see in a few future episodes, a lot of West Coast hippies eventually started calling their collectives and communes families. This started as a way to get round bureaucracy -- if a helpful welfare officer put down that the unrelated people living in a house together were a family, suddenly they could get food stamps. As with many things, of course, the label then affected how people thought about themselves, and one thing that's very notable about the San Francisco scene hippies in particular is that they are some of the first people to make a big deal about what we now  call "found family" or "family of choice". But it's also notable how often the hippie found families took their model from the only families these largely middle-class dropouts had ever known, and structured themselves around men going out and doing the work -- selling dope or panhandling or being rock musicians or shoplifting -- with the women staying at home doing the housework. The Family Dog started promoting shows, with the intention of turning San Francisco into "the American Liverpool", and soon Helms was rivalled only by Bill Graham as the major promoter of rock shows in the Bay Area. And now he wanted Janis to come back and join this new band. But Janis was worried. She was clean now. She drank far too much, but she wasn't doing any other drugs. She couldn't go back to San Francisco and risk getting back on methamphetamine. She needn't worry about that, she was told, nobody in San Francisco did speed any more, they were all on LSD -- a drug she hated and so wasn't in any danger from. Reassured, she made the trip back to San Francisco, to join Big Brother and the Holding Company. Big Brother and the Holding Company were the epitome of San Francisco acid rock at the time. They were the house band at the Avalon Ballroom, which Helms ran, and their first ever gig had been at the Trips Festival, which we talked about briefly in the Grateful Dead episode. They were known for being more imaginative than competent -- lead guitarist James Gurley was often described as playing parts that were influenced by John Cage, but was equally often, and equally accurately, described as not actually being able to keep his guitar in tune because he was too stoned. But they were drawing massive crowds with their instrumental freak-out rock music. Helms thought they needed a singer, and he had remembered Joplin, who a few of the group had seen playing the coffee houses. He decided she would be perfect for them, though Joplin wasn't so sure. She thought it was worth a shot, but as she wrote to her parents before meeting the group "Supposed to rehearse w/ the band this afternoon, after that I guess I'll know whether I want to stay & do that for awhile. Right now my position is ambivalent—I'm glad I came, nice to see the city, a few friends, but I'm not at all sold on the idea of becoming the poor man's Cher.” In that letter she also wrote "I'm awfully sorry to be such a disappointment to you. I understand your fears at my coming here & must admit I share them, but I really do think there's an awfully good chance I won't blow it this time." The band she met up with consisted of lead guitarist James Gurley, bass player Peter Albin, rhythm player Sam Andrew, and drummer David Getz.  To start with, Peter Albin sang lead on most songs, with Joplin adding yelps and screams modelled on those of Roky Erickson, but in her first gig with the band she bowled everyone over with her lead vocal on the traditional spiritual "Down on Me", which would remain a staple of their live act, as in this live recording from 1968: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Down on Me (Live 1968)"] After that first gig in June 1966, it was obvious that Joplin was going to be a star, and was going to be the group's main lead vocalist. She had developed a whole new stage persona a million miles away from her folk performances. As Chet Helms said “Suddenly this person who would stand upright with her fists clenched was all over the stage. Roky Erickson had modeled himself after the screaming style of Little Richard, and Janis's initial stage presence came from Roky, and ultimately Little Richard. It was a very different Janis.” Joplin would always claim to journalists that her stage persona was just her being herself and natural, but she worked hard on every aspect of her performance, and far from the untrained emotional outpouring she always suggested, her vocal performances were carefully calculated pastiches of her influences -- mostly Bessie Smith, but also Big Mama Thornton, Odetta, Etta James, Tina Turner, and Otis Redding. That's not to say that those performances weren't an authentic expression of part of herself -- they absolutely were. But the ethos that dominated San Francisco in the mid-sixties prized self-expression over technical craft, and so Joplin had to portray herself as a freak of nature who just had to let all her emotions out, a wild woman, rather than someone who carefully worked out every nuance of her performances. Joplin actually got the chance to meet one of her idols when she discovered that Willie Mae Thornton was now living and regularly performing in the Bay Area. She and some of her bandmates saw Big Mama play a small jazz club, where she performed a song she wouldn't release on a record for another two years: [Excerpt: Big Mama Thornton, "Ball 'n' Chain"] Janis loved the song and scribbled down the lyrics, then went backstage to ask Big Mama if Big Brother could cover the song. She gave them her blessing, but told them "don't" -- and here she used a word I can't use with a clean rating -- "it up". The group all moved in together, communally, with their partners -- those who had them. Janis was currently single, having dumped her most recent boyfriend after discovering him shooting speed, as she was still determined to stay clean. But she was rapidly discovering that the claim that San Franciscans no longer used much speed had perhaps not been entirely true, as for example Sam Andrew's girlfriend went by the nickname Speedfreak Rita. For now, Janis was still largely clean, but she did start drinking more. Partly this was because of a brief fling with Pigpen from the Grateful Dead, who lived nearby. Janis liked Pigpen as someone else on the scene who didn't much like psychedelics or cannabis -- she didn't like drugs that made her think more, but only drugs that made her able to *stop* thinking (her love of amphetamines doesn't seem to fit this pattern, but a small percentage of people have a different reaction to amphetamine-type stimulants, perhaps she was one of those). Pigpen was a big drinker of Southern Comfort -- so much so that it would kill him within a few years -- and Janis started joining him. Her relationship with Pigpen didn't last long, but the two would remain close, and she would often join the Grateful Dead on stage over the years to duet with him on "Turn On Your Lovelight": [Excerpt: Janis Joplin and the Grateful Dead, "Turn on Your Lovelight"] But within two months of joining the band, Janis nearly left. Paul Rothchild of Elektra Records came to see the group live, and was impressed by their singer, but not by the rest of the band. This was something that would happen again and again over the group's career. The group were all imaginative and creative -- they worked together on their arrangements and their long instrumental jams and often brought in very good ideas -- but they were not the most disciplined or technically skilled of musicians, even when you factored in their heavy drug use, and often lacked the skill to pull off their better ideas. They were hugely popular among the crowds at the Avalon Ballroom, who were on the group's chemical wavelength, but Rothchild was not impressed -- as he was, in general, unimpressed with psychedelic freakouts. He was already of the belief in summer 1966 that the fashion for extended experimental freak-outs would soon come to an end and that there would be a pendulum swing back towards more structured and melodic music. As we saw in the episode on The Band, he would be proved right in a little over a year, but being ahead of the curve he wanted to put together a supergroup that would be able to ride that coming wave, a group that would play old-fashioned blues. He'd got together Stefan Grossman, Steve Mann, and Taj Mahal, and he wanted Joplin to be the female vocalist for the group, dueting with Mahal. She attended one rehearsal, and the new group sounded great. Elektra Records offered to sign them, pay their rent while they rehearsed, and have a major promotional campaign for their first release. Joplin was very, very, tempted, and brought the subject up to her bandmates in Big Brother. They were devastated. They were a family! You don't leave your family! She was meant to be with them forever! They eventually got her to agree to put off the decision at least until after a residency they'd been booked for in Chicago, and she decided to give them the chance, writing to her parents "I decided to stay w/the group but still like to think about the other thing. Trying to figure out which is musically more marketable because my being good isn't enough, I've got to be in a good vehicle.” The trip to Chicago was a disaster. They found that the people of Chicago weren't hugely interested in seeing a bunch of white Californians play the blues, and that the Midwest didn't have the same Bohemian crowds that the coastal cities they were used to had, and so their freak-outs didn't go down well either. After two weeks of their four-week residency, the club owner stopped paying them because they were so unpopular, and they had no money to get home. And then they were approached by Bob Shad. (For those who know the film Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, the Bob Shad in that film is named after this one -- Judd Apatow, the film's director, is Shad's grandson) This Shad was a record producer, who had worked with people like Big Bill Broonzy, Sarah Vaughan, Dinah Washington, and Billy Eckstine over an eighteen-year career, and had recently set up a new label, Mainstream Records. He wanted to sign Big Brother and the Holding Company. They needed money and... well, it was a record contract! It was a contract that took half their publishing, paid them a five percent royalty on sales, and gave them no advance, but it was still a contract, and they'd get union scale for the first session. In that first session in Chicago, they recorded four songs, and strangely only one, "Down on Me", had a solo Janis vocal. Of the other three songs, Sam Andrew and Janis dueted on Sam's song "Call on Me", Albin sang lead on the group composition "Blindman", and Gurley and Janis sang a cover of "All Is Loneliness", a song originally by the avant-garde street musician Moondog: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "All is Loneliness"] The group weren't happy with the four songs they recorded -- they had to keep the songs to the length of a single, and the engineers made sure that the needles never went into the red, so their guitars sounded far more polite and less distorted than they were used to. Janis was fascinated by the overdubbing process, though, especially double-tracking, which she'd never tried before but which she turned out to be remarkably good at. And they were now signed to a contract, which meant that Janis wouldn't be leaving the group to go solo any time soon. The family were going to stay together. But on the group's return to San Francisco, Janis started doing speed again, encouraged by the people around the group, particularly Gurley's wife. By the time the group's first single, "Blindman" backed with "All is Loneliness", came out, she was an addict again. That initial single did nothing, but the group were fast becoming one of the most popular in the Bay Area, and almost entirely down to Janis' vocals and on-stage persona. Bob Shad had already decided in the initial session that while various band members had taken lead, Janis was the one who should be focused on as the star, and when they drove to LA for their second recording session it was songs with Janis leads that they focused on. At that second session, in which they recorded ten tracks in two days, the group recorded a mix of material including one of Janis' own songs, the blues track "Women is Losers", and a version of the old folk song "the Cuckoo Bird" rearranged by Albin. Again they had to keep the arrangements to two and a half minutes a track, with no extended soloing and a pop arrangement style, and the results sound a lot more like the other San Francisco bands, notably Jefferson Airplane, than like the version of the band that shows itself in their live performances: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Coo Coo"] After returning to San Francisco after the sessions, Janis went to see Otis Redding at the Fillmore, turning up several hours before the show started on all three nights to make sure she could be right at the front. One of the other audience members later recalled “It was more fascinating for me, almost, to watch Janis watching Otis, because you could tell that she wasn't just listening to him, she was studying something. There was some kind of educational thing going on there. I was jumping around like the little hippie girl I was, thinking This is so great! and it just stopped me in my tracks—because all of a sudden Janis drew you very deeply into what the performance was all about. Watching her watch Otis Redding was an education in itself.” Joplin would, for the rest of her life, always say that Otis Redding was her all-time favourite singer, and would say “I started singing rhythmically, and now I'm learning from Otis Redding to push a song instead of just sliding over it.” [Excerpt: Otis Redding, "I Can't Turn You Loose (live)"] At the start of 1967, the group moved out of the rural house they'd been sharing and into separate apartments around Haight-Ashbury, and they brought the new year in by playing a free show organised by the Hell's Angels, the violent motorcycle gang who at the time were very close with the proto-hippies in the Bay Area. Janis in particular always got on well with the Angels, whose drugs of choice, like hers, were speed and alcohol more than cannabis and psychedelics. Janis also started what would be the longest on-again off-again relationship she would ever have, with a woman named Peggy Caserta. Caserta had a primary partner, but that if anything added to her appeal for Joplin -- Caserta's partner Kimmie had previously been in a relationship with Joan Baez, and Joplin, who had an intense insecurity that made her jealous of any other female singer who had any success, saw this as in some way a validation both of her sexuality and, transitively, of her talent. If she was dating Baez's ex's lover, that in some way put her on a par with Baez, and when she told friends about Peggy, Janis would always slip that fact in. Joplin and Caserta would see each other off and on for the rest of Joplin's life, but they were never in a monogamous relationship, and Joplin had many other lovers over the years. The next of these was Country Joe McDonald of Country Joe and the Fish, who were just in the process of recording their first album Electric Music for the Mind and Body, when McDonald and Joplin first got together: [Excerpt: Country Joe and the Fish, "Grace"] McDonald would later reminisce about lying with Joplin, listening to one of the first underground FM radio stations, KMPX, and them playing a Fish track and a Big Brother track back to back. Big Brother's second single, the other two songs recorded in the Chicago session, had been released in early 1967, and the B-side, "Down on Me", was getting a bit of airplay in San Francisco and made the local charts, though it did nothing outside the Bay Area: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Down on Me"] Janis was unhappy with the record, though, writing to her parents and saying, “Our new record is out. We seem to be pretty dissatisfied w/it. I think we're going to try & get out of the record contract if we can. We don't feel that they know how to promote or engineer a record & every time we recorded for them, they get all our songs, which means we can't do them for another record company. But then if our new record does something, we'd change our mind. But somehow, I don't think it's going to." The band apparently saw a lawyer to see if they could get out of the contract with Mainstream, but they were told it was airtight. They were tied to Bob Shad no matter what for the next five years. Janis and McDonald didn't stay together for long -- they clashed about his politics and her greater fame -- but after they split, she asked him to write a song for her before they became too distant, and he obliged and recorded it on the Fish's next album: [Excerpt: Country Joe and the Fish, "Janis"] The group were becoming so popular by late spring 1967 that when Richard Lester, the director of the Beatles' films among many other classics, came to San Francisco to film Petulia, his follow-up to How I Won The War, he chose them, along with the Grateful Dead, to appear in performance segments in the film. But it would be another filmmaker that would change the course of the group's career irrevocably: [Excerpt: Scott McKenzie, "San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair)"] When Big Brother and the Holding Company played the Monterey Pop Festival, nobody had any great expectations. They were second on the bill on the Saturday, the day that had been put aside for the San Francisco acts, and they were playing in the early afternoon, after a largely unimpressive night before. They had a reputation among the San Francisco crowd, of course, but they weren't even as big as the Grateful Dead, Moby Grape or Country Joe and the Fish, let alone Jefferson Airplane. Monterey launched four careers to new heights, but three of the superstars it made -- Otis Redding, Jimi Hendrix, and the Who -- already had successful careers. Hendrix and the Who had had hits in the UK but not yet broken the US market, while Redding was massively popular with Black people but hadn't yet crossed over to a white audience. Big Brother and the Holding Company, on the other hand, were so unimportant that D.A. Pennebaker didn't even film their set -- their manager at the time had not wanted to sign over the rights to film their performance, something that several of the other acts had also refused -- and nobody had been bothered enough to make an issue of it. Pennebaker just took some crowd shots and didn't bother filming the band. The main thing he caught was Cass Elliot's open-mouthed astonishment at Big Brother's performance -- or rather at Janis Joplin's performance. The members of the group would later complain, not entirely inaccurately, that in the reviews of their performance at Monterey, Joplin's left nipple (the outline of which was apparently visible through her shirt, at least to the male reviewers who took an inordinate interest in such things) got more attention than her four bandmates combined. As Pennebaker later said “She came out and sang, and my hair stood on end. We were told we weren't allowed to shoot it, but I knew if we didn't have Janis in the film, the film would be a wash. Afterward, I said to Albert Grossman, ‘Talk to her manager or break his leg or whatever you have to do, because we've got to have her in this film. I can't imagine this film without this woman who I just saw perform.” Grossman had a talk with the organisers of the festival, Lou Adler and John Phillips, and they offered Big Brother a second spot, the next day, if they would allow their performance to be used in the film. The group agreed, after much discussion between Janis and Grossman, and against the wishes of their manager: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Ball and Chain (live at Monterey)"] They were now on Albert Grossman's radar. Or at least, Janis Joplin was. Joplin had always been more of a careerist than the other members of the group. They were in music to have a good time and to avoid working a straight job, and while some of them were more accomplished musicians than their later reputations would suggest -- Sam Andrew, in particular, was a skilled player and serious student of music -- they were fundamentally content with playing the Avalon Ballroom and the Fillmore and making five hundred dollars or so a week between them. Very good money for 1967, but nothing else. Joplin, on the other hand, was someone who absolutely craved success. She wanted to prove to her family that she wasn't a failure and that her eccentricity shouldn't stop them being proud of her; she was always, even at the depths of her addictions, fiscally prudent and concerned about her finances; and she had a deep craving for love. Everyone who talks about her talks about how she had an aching need at all times for approval, connection, and validation, which she got on stage more than she got anywhere else. The bigger the audience, the more they must love her. She'd made all her decisions thus far based on how to balance making music that she loved with commercial success, and this would continue to be the pattern for her in future. And so when journalists started to want to talk to her, even though up to that point Albin, who did most of the on-stage announcements, and Gurley, the lead guitarist, had considered themselves joint leaders of the band, she was eager. And she was also eager to get rid of their manager, who continued the awkward streak that had prevented their first performance at the Monterey Pop Festival from being filmed. The group had the chance to play the Hollywood Bowl -- Bill Graham was putting on a "San Francisco Sound" showcase there, featuring Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead, and got their verbal agreement to play, but after Graham had the posters printed up, their manager refused to sign the contracts unless they were given more time on stage. The next day after that, they played Monterey again -- this time the Monterey Jazz Festival. A very different crowd to the Pop Festival still fell for Janis' performance -- and once again, the film being made of the event didn't include Big Brother's set because of their manager. While all this was going on, the group's recordings from the previous year were rushed out by Mainstream Records as an album, to poor reviews which complained it was nothing like the group's set at Monterey: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Bye Bye Baby"] They were going to need to get out of that contract and sign with somewhere better -- Clive Davis at Columbia Records was already encouraging them to sign with him -- but to do that, they needed a better manager. They needed Albert Grossman. Grossman was one of the best negotiators in the business at that point, but he was also someone who had a genuine love for the music his clients made.  And he had good taste -- he managed Odetta, who Janis idolised as a singer, and Bob Dylan, who she'd been a fan of since his first album came out. He was going to be the perfect manager for the group. But he had one condition though. His first wife had been a heroin addict, and he'd just been dealing with Mike Bloomfield's heroin habit. He had one absolutely ironclad rule, a dealbreaker that would stop him signing them -- they didn't use heroin, did they? Both Gurley and Joplin had used heroin on occasion -- Joplin had only just started, introduced to the drug by Gurley -- but they were only dabblers. They could give it up any time they wanted, right? Of course they could. They told him, in perfect sincerity, that the band didn't use heroin and it wouldn't be a problem. But other than that, Grossman was extremely flexible. He explained to the group at their first meeting that he took a higher percentage than other managers, but that he would also make them more money than other managers -- if money was what they wanted. He told them that they needed to figure out where they wanted their career to be, and what they were willing to do to get there -- would they be happy just playing the same kind of venues they were now, maybe for a little more money, or did they want to be as big as Dylan or Peter, Paul, and Mary? He could get them to whatever level they wanted, and he was happy with working with clients at every level, what did they actually want? The group were agreed -- they wanted to be rich. They decided to test him. They were making twenty-five thousand dollars a year between them at that time, so they got ridiculously ambitious. They told him they wanted to make a *lot* of money. Indeed, they wanted a clause in their contract saying the contract would be void if in the first year they didn't make... thinking of a ridiculous amount, they came up with seventy-five thousand dollars. Grossman's response was to shrug and say "Make it a hundred thousand." The group were now famous and mixing with superstars -- Peter Tork of the Monkees had become a close friend of Janis', and when they played a residency in LA they were invited to John and Michelle Phillips' house to see a rough cut of Monterey Pop. But the group, other than Janis, were horrified -- the film barely showed the other band members at all, just Janis. Dave Getz said later "We assumed we'd appear in the movie as a band, but seeing it was a shock. It was all Janis. They saw her as a superstar in the making. I realized that though we were finally going to be making money and go to another level, it also meant our little family was being separated—there was Janis, and there was the band.” [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Bye Bye Baby"] If the group were going to make that hundred thousand dollars a year, they couldn't remain on Mainstream Records, but Bob Shad was not about to give up his rights to what could potentially be the biggest group in America without a fight. But luckily for the group, Clive Davis at Columbia had seen their Monterey performance, and he was also trying to pivot the label towards the new rock music. He was basically willing to do anything to get them. Eventually Columbia agreed to pay Shad two hundred thousand dollars for the group's contract -- Davis and Grossman negotiated so half that was an advance on the group's future earnings, but the other half was just an expense for the label. On top of that the group got an advance payment of fifty thousand dollars for their first album for Columbia, making a total investment by Columbia of a quarter of a million dollars -- in return for which they got to sign the band, and got the rights to the material they'd recorded for Mainstream, though Shad would get a two percent royalty on their first two albums for Columbia. Janis was intimidated by signing for Columbia, because that had been Aretha Franklin's label before she signed to Atlantic, and she regarded Franklin as the greatest performer in music at that time.  Which may have had something to do with the choice of a new song the group added to their setlist in early 1968 -- one which was a current hit for Aretha's sister Erma: [Excerpt: Erma Franklin, "Piece of My Heart"] We talked a little in the last episode about the song "Piece of My Heart" itself, though mostly from the perspective of its performer, Erma Franklin. But the song was, as we mentioned, co-written by Bert Berns. He's someone we've talked about a little bit in previous episodes, notably the ones on "Here Comes the Night" and "Twist and Shout", but those were a couple of years ago, and he's about to become a major figure in the next episode, so we might as well take a moment here to remind listeners (or tell those who haven't heard those episodes) of the basics and explain where "Piece of My Heart" comes in Berns' work as a whole. Bert Berns was a latecomer to the music industry, not getting properly started until he was thirty-one, after trying a variety of other occupations. But when he did get started, he wasted no time making his mark -- he knew he had no time to waste. He had a weak heart and knew the likelihood was he was going to die young. He started an association with Wand records as a songwriter and performer, writing songs for some of Phil Spector's pre-fame recordings, and he also started producing records for Atlantic, where for a long while he was almost the equal of Jerry Wexler or Leiber and Stoller in terms of number of massive hits created. His records with Solomon Burke were the records that first got the R&B genre renamed soul (previously the word "soul" mostly referred to a kind of R&Bish jazz, rather than a kind of gospel-ish R&B). He'd also been one of the few American music industry professionals to work with British bands before the Beatles made it big in the USA, after he became alerted to the Beatles' success with his song "Twist and Shout", which he'd co-written with Phil Medley, and which had been a hit in a version Berns produced for the Isley Brothers: [Excerpt: The Isley Brothers, "Twist and Shout"] That song shows the two elements that existed in nearly every single Bert Berns song or production. The first is the Afro-Caribbean rhythm, a feel he picked up during a stint in Cuba in his twenties. Other people in the Atlantic records team were also partial to those rhythms -- Leiber and Stoller loved what they called the baion rhythm -- but Berns more than anyone else made it his signature. He also very specifically loved the song "La Bamba", especially Ritchie Valens' version of it: [Excerpt: Ritchie Valens, "La Bamba"] He basically seemed to think that was the greatest record ever made, and he certainly loved that three-chord trick I-IV-V-IV chord sequence -- almost but not quite the same as the "Louie Louie" one.  He used it in nearly every song he wrote from that point on -- usually using a bassline that went something like this: [plays I-IV-V-IV bassline] He used it in "Twist and Shout" of course: [Excerpt: The Isley Brothers, "Twist and Shout"] He used it in "Hang on Sloopy": [Excerpt: The McCoys, "Hang on Sloopy"] He *could* get more harmonically sophisticated on occasion, but the vast majority of Berns' songs show the power of simplicity. They're usually based around three chords, and often they're actually only two chords, like "I Want Candy": [Excerpt: The Strangeloves, "I Want Candy"] Or the chorus to "Here Comes the Night" by Them, which is two chords for most of it and only introduces a third right at the end: [Excerpt: Them, "Here Comes the Night"] And even in that song you can hear the "Twist and Shout"/"La Bamba" feel, even if it's not exactly the same chords. Berns' whole career was essentially a way of wringing *every last possible drop* out of all the implications of Ritchie Valens' record. And so even when he did a more harmonically complex song, like "Piece of My Heart", which actually has some minor chords in the bridge, the "La Bamba" chord sequence is used in both the verse: [Excerpt: Erma Franklin, "Piece of My Heart"] And the chorus: [Excerpt: Erma Franklin, "Piece of My Heart"] Berns co-wrote “Piece of My Heart” with Jerry Ragavoy. Berns and Ragavoy had also written "Cry Baby" for Garnet Mimms, which was another Joplin favourite: [Excerpt: Garnet Mimms, "Cry Baby"] And Ragavoy, with other collaborators

Songs include: Black Is the Color Of My True Love's Hair, Black Bottom Stomp, That Old Black Magic, Black and Blue, Black Snake Moan, Black Coffee, Black Eyes and Black and Tan Fantasy. Performers include: Louis Armstrong, Sarah Vaughn, Glenn Miller, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Jo Stafford, Nat King Cole and Spike Jones.  

"Tedeschi Trucks Band: Rocking the Garden Party with Warren Haynes and Trey Anastasio"Larry Mishkin discusses various topics related to marijuana law, culture, and music. He mentions updates on Tedeschi Trucks Band shows, including performances with Warren Haynes and Trey Anastasio. Larry also delves into the history of the song "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry," originally written by Bob Dylan, and how it marked a pivotal moment in the transition to electric music. He discusses the Dead's cover of the song and its significance, along with other Dylan covers. Additionally, Larry touches on the Jerry Garcia and Merle Saunders performance from 50 years ago, featuring songs like "Finders Keepers" and "The Harder They Come." He highlights the guest musicians and the significance of these performances within the context of rock and roll history. Finally, he shares insights on Jerry Garcia's cover of "That's All Right, Mama" and its historical significance in the development of rock and roll music..Produced by PodConx  Deadhead Cannabis Show - https://podconx.com/podcasts/deadhead-cannabis-showLarry Mishkin - https://podconx.com/guests/larry-mishkinRob Hunt - https://podconx.com/guests/rob-huntJay Blakesberg - https://podconx.com/guests/jay-blakesbergSound Designed by Jamie Humiston - https://www.linkedin.com/in/jamie-humiston-91718b1b3/Recorded on Squadcast Going with a Garcia/Saunders show:October 2, 1973 (50 years ago)Winterland, S.F.Garcia & Saunders 1973 Winterland SF KSAN : KSAN : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet ArchiveBand members:Jerry – guitar and vocalsMerle – KeyboardJohn Kahn – bassBill Vitt – drumsGuests:Sara Fulcher – vocalsMatt Kelly – harmonicaRoger “Jellyroll” Troy – bass, vocalsMartin Fierro – saxBill Atwood - trumpet     INTRO:                  It Takes A Lot To Laugh It Takes A Train To Cry                                (this one is really from 10.12.1973 at Keystone because the Archive.org show is missing this song as the opener and this is the one closes in date I could find)                                Jerry Garcia/Merl Saunders • It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry 10/12/73 Fixed SBD - YouTube                                7:35 – 9:09                                 "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry" is a song written by Bob Dylan, that was originally released on his album Highway 61 Revisited released Aug. 30, 1965. It was recorded barely a month earlier on July 29, 1965. The song was also included on an early, European Dylan compilation album entitled Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits 2.An earlier, alternate version of the song has been released, in different takes, beginning with the appearance of one take on The Bootleg Series Volumes 1–3 (Rare & Unreleased) 1961–1991 in 1991.Covered by Steven Stills, Leon Russell, Marianne Faithful, Taj Mahal, Paul Westerberg, Robyn Hitchcock and Lucinda Williams Dylan's live debut of the song came as part of Dylan's controversial electric set, backed by members of The Paul Butterfield Blues Band and Al Kooper, at the Newport Folk Festival on July 25, 1965, after "Maggie's Farm".[2][4][5][7] After being heckled during the electric set, and especially during "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry", by fans who wanted Dylan to play acoustic folk music, Dylan returned to play acoustic versions of "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue".[4][7] The Newport performance of "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry" features jamming by guitarist Bloomfield and organist Al Kooper.[4] Dylan played it live as part of his set in the August 1971 Concert for Bangladesh. This version was included in the concert film and Grammy Award-winning album of the same title.[2]A.         Dead played it 7 times:first time on June 10, 1973 at RFK Stadium (D.C.) with Allman Brothersfive times in 1991 and once on March 16, 1992 at the Spectrum, Philly Released on Dead album:  Postcards of the Hanging (March, 2002) B.         Jerry's various bands played it about 60 times,first time on January 15, 1972 at Keystone Korner in S.F. w/Merle SaundersLast time by JGB: March 4, 1995 at the Warfield in S.F.                                SHOW #1:           Finders Keepers                                Track No. 1                                3:00 – 4:13                 Finders Keepers was performed over 20 times by Jerry Garcia with the Garcia/Saunders band, Legion of Mary and Reconstruction between 1973 and 1979.On the 1973 Garcia/Saunders Keystone double album the song is called Finders Keepers and is correctly credited to Johnston and Bowen. The song was written by General Johnson, a member of the group Chairmen Of The Board, and Jeffrey Bowen, the producer of the Chairmen Of The Board recording. The song was originally released by the Chairmen Of The Board as a single with a vocal version of the song on the A side and an instrumental version on the B-side.  Chairmen of the Board is an American-Canadian, Detroit, Michigan-based soul musicgroup, who saw their greatest commercial success in the 1970s.  SHOW #2:           The Harder They Come                                Track No. 2                                1:05 – 2:18 "The Harder They Come" is a reggae song by the Jamaican singer Jimmy Cliff. It was first recorded for the soundtrack of the 1972 movie of the same name, in which it is supposed to have been written by the film's main character, Ivanhoe Martin. In 1969, singer Jimmy Cliff met film director Perry Henzell, who was intending to make a film about a musician who turned to crime. Cliff agreed to take the lead role, and the film was shot over the next two years. During filming, Cliff came up with the line "the harder they come". Henzell thought it would make a good title for the film, and asked Cliff to write and record a theme song for it.[2]The actual recording of the track, at Dynamic Sounds (Muscle Shoals, 1971), was filmed for inclusion in the movie. Cliff wrote the melody, and improvised the lyrics. The musicians were Gladstone Anderson (piano), Winston Wright (organ), Winston Grennan (drums), Linford "Hux" Brown (lead guitar), Ranford "Ranny Bop" Williams (rhythm guitar), and Clifton "Jackie" Jackson (bass).[2]Reggae track recorded in Jamaica in 1972 Covered by:  JGB (Kean College 2.2.80), Cher, Keith Richards (b-side to his single, Run Rudolph Run 1978), Rancid, Joe Strummer, Wayne Kramer, moe., Willie Nelson, Guster, Widespread Panic and many others The Harder They Come was performed over 350 times by Jerry Garcia/Merl Saunders groups and by the Jerry Garcia Band between 1973 and 1995. The lyrics and music for the song are included in the Jerry Garcia Songbook. Also played by Phil Lesh & Friends, Billy & The Kids, Voodoo Dead and Bob Weir with Soul Ska.                                SHOW #3:           That's All Right Mama                                Track No. 3                                2:20 – 3:59                                Featuring:  Bill Atwood on Trumpet and Sara Fulcher on vocals                                                              The song was written by Arthur "Big Boy" Crudup, and originally recorded by him in Chicago on September 6, 1946, as "That's All Right". Some of the lyrics are traditional blues verses first recorded by Blind Lemon Jefferson in 1926.[5][6] Crudup's recording was released as a single in 1947 on RCA Victor 20–2205, but was less successful than some of his previous recordings. One of the experts who consider the Crudup recording to be the "first rock and roll song" is Southeastern Louisiana University rock historian Joseph Burns, who adds that "this song could contain the first ever guitar solo break". Elvis Presley's version was recorded in July 1954.[10] While recording an album as part of a trio called The Blue Moon Boys, the band played "That's All Right" in between takes, and the uptempo style characteristic of rockabilly caught the attention of studio executive Sam Phillips, who asked for a refinement of the interpretation that was later recorded.[11] Its catalogue number was Sun 209.[12] The song was released under its original title, "That's All Right", and names the performers as Elvis Presley, Scotty, and Bill.[13] The Presley version was not identical to Crudup's since it was "at least twice as fast as the original".[2] His version is considered by some music critics as one of the records that was the first in the rock n'roll genre.  A 2004 article in The Guardian argues that rather than Presley's version being one of the first records of rock and roll, it was simply one of "the first white artists' interpretations of a sound already well-established by black musicians almost a decade before [...] a raucous, driving, unnamed variant of rhythm and blues". Covered by the Grateful Dead once with allman Brothers on June 10, 1973 (RFK great version with Jerry and Dickey Betts trading off lead licks) and once om April 18, 1986 at Berkeley Community TheaterPlayed regularly by JGB and other versions from the ‘70's until the end in 1995.                               SHOW #4:           Second That Emotion                                Track No. 5                                7:00 – 8:29 "I Second That Emotion" is a 1967 song written by Smokey Robinson and Al Cleveland. First charting as a hit for Smokey Robinson and the Miracles on the Tamla/Motown label in 1967, "I Second That Emotion" was later a hit single for the group duet Diana Ross & the Supremes and The Temptations, also on the Motown label. One morning in 1967, Robinson and Cleveland were shopping at Hudson's, a Detroit department store. Robinson found a set of pearls for his wife, Claudette. "They're beautiful." he said to the salesperson. "I sure hope she likes them." Cleveland then added "I second that emotion." Both songwriters laughed at Cleveland's malapropism; he had meant to say "I second that motion." The two were immediately inspired to write a song using the incorrect phrase. Was performed a handful of times (7) by the Grateful Dead in April, 1971First:  April 8, 1971 at The Music Hall, BostonLast:  April 29, 1971 at Fillmore East NYC Part of Jerry's bands repertoire between 1973 and 1994 (played almost 200 times)  OUTRO:                Sweet Little Angel                                Track #7                                2:20 – 3:59                 Written by BB King and Jules Taub in September, 1956                Some say it is an adaption of Black Angel Blues written by Lucille Bogan in December, 1930 In 1956, B.B. King recorded "Sweet Little Angel" (RPM Records 468). According to King, "I got the idea for 'Sweet Little Angel' from Robert Nighthawk's 'Sweet Black Angel', though I later discovered that the song had been recorded by someone before Nighthawk. At the time 'black' was not a popular word, as it is now. Instead of using the old title, I changed it to 'Sweet Little Angel'—and that was a pretty big record for me".[6] King's version, which included a horn section, was a stylistic shift for the song and it became a hit, reaching number eight on the Billboard R&B chart.[7] In 1957, he re-recorded "Sweet Little Angel" for his first album Singin' the Blues. Both versions prominently feature B.B. King's guitar work, with his note-bends "sounding almost like a lap steel in places.”

In which we share our thoughts on the Spooky Season, on the last Sunday before October! Also, 60 Minutes, Soichiro Honda, "Blind" Lemon Jefferson and Norcos Y Horchata!

This week, a titanic trio of certified country blues guitar masters recorded live at Ozark Folk Center State Park. Also, commentary from these blues maestros. Country blues, also known as folk blues, rural blues, backwoods blues or down home blues, is one of the earliest forms of blues music. It's performed primarily as a solo vocal with acoustic finger style guitar accompaniment. Country blues was developed in the rural Southern United States in the early 20th century and stands in contrast primarily to the urban blues style, especially in the pre-world war two era. Artists such as Blind Lemon Jefferson, Charley Patton, and Blind Willie McTell were among the first to record blues songs in the 1920s. Country blues ran parallel to urban blues, which was popular in cities. Featured on this episode of Ozark Highlands Radio are renowned old-time singer and multi-instrumentalist Jerron “Blind Boy” Paxton, award winning Carolina Chocolate Drops veteran Hubby Jenkins, and celebrated bluesicologist & Reverend Gary Davis protege' Roy Bookbinder. Jerron "Blind Boy" Paxton is an American musician from Los Angeles. A vocalist and multi-instrumentalist, Paxton's style draws from blues and jazz music before World War II and was influenced by Fats Waller and "Blind" Lemon Jefferson. According to Will Friedwald in the Wall Street Journal, Paxton is "virtually the only music-maker of his generation—playing guitar, banjo, piano and violin, among other implements—to fully assimilate the blues idiom of the 1920s and '30s, the blues of Bessie Smith and Lonnie Johnson.” Hubby Jenkins is a talented multi-instrumentalist, who endeavors to share his love and knowledge of old-time American music. Born and raised in Brooklyn, he delved into his Southern roots, following the thread of African American history that wove itself through country blues, ragtime, fiddle and banjo, and traditional jazz. After years of busking around the country and making a name for himself, Hubby became acquainted with the Carolina Chocolate Drops. Since 2010 he has been an integral part of the Grammy award winning Carolina Chocolate Drops and continues to make solo performances. Guitarist Roy Book Binder has traveled the world as a solo performer for nearly 50 years. Roy's career and playing style is heavily influenced by the late Reverend Gary Davis, who specialized in a unique style of guitar finger picking. Roy's performances are as much a story of his life and experiences as they are a musical endeavor. In this week's “From the Vault” segment, OHR producer Jeff Glover offers a 1981 archival recording of Ozark original Kenneth Rorie performing the tune “The Devil and the Farmers Wife,” from the Ozark Folk Center State Park archives. In his segment “Back in the Hills,” writer, professor, and historian Dr. Brooks Blevins tells the story of Enoch Wolf, an adventitiously fortunate Arkansas Confederate Civil War officer whom, at the very end of the war, was spared an undeserved execution at the hands of his Union captors.

In de vorige afleveringen van deze podcast vertelde ik jullie hoe de blues tijdens de jaren twintig van de vorige eeuw migreerde van het platteland in het zuiden naar de steden in het noorden van de VS. En daar in de stad werd de bluesmuziek waanzinnig enthousiast onthaald. De eenzame field hollers verdwenen in het stedelijke rumoer en de muziek werd er sterker, fortissmi, krachtiger en intenser. Zwarte artiesten kregen meer en meer een podium en zelfs een kans om opnames te maken. Aanvankelijk waren het vooral vrouwen die de blues vertolkten - met een krachtige stem, met een expressieve seksualiteit en begeleid door luide bigbands. Het was WC Handy die de blues het stedelijk maatpakje had aangetrokken, en na hem leek de blues van het platteland wel helemaal vergeten. Uit het oog dus, uit het commerciële oog. Maar de blues was zeker niet uit het hart, want aan het eind van de jaren twintig verschoof de aandacht opnieuw naar het platteland, naar de plattelandsblues, de country blues. En daar wil ik het in deze aflevering graag over hebben.Nieuwsgierig naar meer? Volg me op Facebook, Instagram of Twitter. Of bezoek ⁠www.souloftheblues.be⁠. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/bart-massaer/message

Episode 166 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Crossroads", Cream, the myth of Robert Johnson, and whether white men can sing the blues. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a forty-eight-minute bonus episode available, on “Tip-Toe Thru' the Tulips" by Tiny Tim. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ Errata I talk about an interview with Clapton from 1967, I meant 1968. I mention a Graham Bond live recording from 1953, and of course meant 1963. I say Paul Jones was on vocals in the Powerhouse sessions. Steve Winwood was on vocals, and Jones was on harmonica. Resources As I say at the end, the main resource you need to get if you enjoyed this episode is Brother Robert by Annye Anderson, Robert Johnson's stepsister. There are three Mixcloud mixes this time. As there are so many songs by Cream, Robert Johnson, John Mayall, and Graham Bond excerpted, and Mixcloud won't allow more than four songs by the same artist in any mix, I've had to post the songs not in quite the same order in which they appear in the podcast. But the mixes are here -- one, two, three. This article on Mack McCormick gives a fuller explanation of the problems with his research and behaviour. The other books I used for the Robert Johnson sections were McCormick's Biography of a Phantom; Up Jumped the Devil: The Real Life of Robert Johnson, by Bruce Conforth and Gayle Dean Wardlow; Searching for Robert Johnson by Peter Guralnick; and Escaping the Delta by Elijah Wald. I can recommend all of these subject to the caveats at the end of the episode. The information on the history and prehistory of the Delta blues mostly comes from Before Elvis by Larry Birnbaum, with some coming from Charley Patton by John Fahey. The information on Cream comes mostly from Cream: How Eric Clapton Took the World by Storm by Dave Thompson. I also used Ginger Baker: Hellraiser by Ginger Baker and Ginette Baker, Mr Showbiz by Stephen Dando-Collins, Motherless Child by Paul Scott, and  Alexis Korner: The Biography by Harry Shapiro. The best collection of Cream's work is the four-CD set Those Were the Days, which contains every track the group ever released while they were together (though only the stereo mixes of the albums, and a couple of tracks are in slightly different edits from the originals). You can get Johnson's music on many budget compilation records, as it's in the public domain in the EU, but the double CD collection produced by Steve LaVere for Sony in 2011 is, despite the problems that come from it being associated with LaVere, far and away the best option -- the remasters have a clarity that's worlds ahead of even the 1990s CD version it replaced. And for a good single-CD introduction to the Delta blues musicians and songsters who were Johnson's peers and inspirations, Back to the Crossroads: The Roots of Robert Johnson, compiled by Elijah Wald as a companion to his book on Johnson, can't be beaten, and contains many of the tracks excerpted in this episode. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Before we start, a quick note that this episode contains discussion of racism, drug addiction, and early death. There's also a brief mention of death in childbirth and infant mortality. It's been a while since we looked at the British blues movement, and at the blues in general, so some of you may find some of what follows familiar, as we're going to look at some things we've talked about previously, but from a different angle. In 1968, the Bonzo Dog Band, a comedy musical band that have been described as the missing link between the Beatles and the Monty Python team, released a track called "Can Blue Men Sing the Whites?": [Excerpt: The Bonzo Dog Band, "Can Blue Men Sing the Whites?"] That track was mocking a discussion that was very prominent in Britain's music magazines around that time. 1968 saw the rise of a *lot* of British bands who started out as blues bands, though many of them went on to different styles of music -- Fleetwood Mac, Ten Years After, Jethro Tull, Chicken Shack and others were all becoming popular among the kind of people who read the music magazines, and so the question was being asked -- can white men sing the blues? Of course, the answer to that question was obvious. After all, white men *invented* the blues. Before we get any further at all, I have to make clear that I do *not* mean that white people created blues music. But "the blues" as a category, and particularly the idea of it as a music made largely by solo male performers playing guitar... that was created and shaped by the actions of white male record executives. There is no consensus as to when or how the blues as a genre started -- as we often say in this podcast "there is no first anything", but like every genre it seems to have come from multiple sources. In the case of the blues, there's probably some influence from African music by way of field chants sung by enslaved people, possibly some influence from Arabic music as well, definitely some influence from the Irish and British folk songs that by the late nineteenth century were developing into what we now call country music, a lot from ragtime, and a lot of influence from vaudeville and minstrel songs -- which in turn themselves were all very influenced by all those other things. Probably the first published composition to show any real influence of the blues is from 1904, a ragtime piano piece by James Chapman and Leroy Smith, "One O' Them Things": [Excerpt: "One O' Them Things"] That's not very recognisable as a blues piece yet, but it is more-or-less a twelve-bar blues. But the blues developed, and it developed as a result of a series of commercial waves. The first of these came in 1914, with the success of W.C. Handy's "Memphis Blues", which when it was recorded by the Victor Military Band for a phonograph cylinder became what is generally considered the first blues record proper: [Excerpt: The Victor Military Band, "Memphis Blues"] The famous dancers Vernon and Irene Castle came up with a dance, the foxtrot -- which Vernon Castle later admitted was largely inspired by Black dancers -- to be danced to the "Memphis Blues", and the foxtrot soon overtook the tango, which the Castles had introduced to the US the previous year, to become the most popular dance in America for the best part of three decades. And with that came an explosion in blues in the Handy style, cranked out by every music publisher. While the blues was a style largely created by Black performers and writers, the segregated nature of the American music industry at the time meant that most vocal performances of these early blues that were captured on record were by white performers, Black vocalists at this time only rarely getting the chance to record. The first blues record with a Black vocalist is also technically the first British blues record. A group of Black musicians, apparently mostly American but led by a Jamaican pianist, played at Ciro's Club in London, and recorded many tracks in Britain, under a name which I'm not going to say in full -- it started with Ciro's Club, and continued alliteratively with another word starting with C, a slur for Black people. In 1917 they recorded a vocal version of "St. Louis Blues", another W.C. Handy composition: [Excerpt: Ciro's Club C**n Orchestra, "St. Louis Blues"] The first American Black blues vocal didn't come until two years later, when Bert Williams, a Black minstrel-show performer who like many Black performers of his era performed in blackface even though he was Black, recorded “I'm Sorry I Ain't Got It You Could Have It If I Had It Blues,” [Excerpt: Bert Williams, "I'm Sorry I Ain't Got It You Could Have It If I Had It Blues,”] But it wasn't until 1920 that the second, bigger, wave of popularity started for the blues, and this time it started with the first record of a Black *woman* singing the blues -- Mamie Smith's "Crazy Blues": [Excerpt: Mamie Smith, "Crazy Blues"] You can hear the difference between that and anything we've heard up to that point -- that's the first record that anyone from our perspective, a hundred and three years later, would listen to and say that it bore any resemblance to what we think of as the blues -- so much so that many places still credit it as the first ever blues record. And there's a reason for that. "Crazy Blues" was one of those records that separates the music industry into before and after, like "Rock Around the Clock", "I Want to Hold Your Hand", Sgt Pepper, or "Rapper's Delight". It sold seventy-five thousand copies in its first month -- a massive number by the standards of 1920 -- and purportedly went on to sell over a million copies. Sales figures and market analysis weren't really a thing in the same way in 1920, but even so it became very obvious that "Crazy Blues" was a big hit, and that unlike pretty much any other previous records, it was a big hit among Black listeners, which meant that there was a market for music aimed at Black people that was going untapped. Soon all the major record labels were setting up subsidiaries devoted to what they called "race music", music made by and for Black people. And this sees the birth of what is now known as "classic blues", but at the time (and for decades after) was just what people thought of when they thought of "the blues" as a genre. This was music primarily sung by female vaudeville artists backed by jazz bands, people like Ma Rainey (whose earliest recordings featured Louis Armstrong in her backing band): [Excerpt: Ma Rainey, "See See Rider Blues"] And Bessie Smith, the "Empress of the Blues", who had a massive career in the 1920s before the Great Depression caused many of these "race record" labels to fold, but who carried on performing well into the 1930s -- her last recording was in 1933, produced by John Hammond, with a backing band including Benny Goodman and Jack Teagarden: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Give Me a Pigfoot and a Bottle of Beer"] It wouldn't be until several years after the boom started by Mamie Smith that any record companies turned to recording Black men singing the blues accompanied by guitar or banjo. The first record of this type is probably "Norfolk Blues" by Reese DuPree from 1924: [Excerpt: Reese DuPree, "Norfolk Blues"] And there were occasional other records of this type, like "Airy Man Blues" by Papa Charlie Jackson, who was advertised as the “only man living who sings, self-accompanied, for Blues records.” [Excerpt: Papa Charlie Jackson, "Airy Man Blues"] But contrary to the way these are seen today, at the time they weren't seen as being in some way "authentic", or "folk music". Indeed, there are many quotes from folk-music collectors of the time (sadly all of them using so many slurs that it's impossible for me to accurately quote them) saying that when people sang the blues, that wasn't authentic Black folk music at all but an adulteration from commercial music -- they'd clearly, according to these folk-music scholars, learned the blues style from records and sheet music rather than as part of an oral tradition. Most of these performers were people who recorded blues as part of a wider range of material, like Blind Blake, who recorded some blues music but whose best work was his ragtime guitar instrumentals: [Excerpt: Blind Blake, "Southern Rag"] But it was when Blind Lemon Jefferson started recording for Paramount records in 1926 that the image of the blues as we now think of it took shape. His first record, "Got the Blues", was a massive success: [Excerpt: Blind Lemon Jefferson, "Got the Blues"] And this resulted in many labels, especially Paramount, signing up pretty much every Black man with a guitar they could find in the hopes of finding another Blind Lemon Jefferson. But the thing is, this generation of people making blues records, and the generation that followed them, didn't think of themselves as "blues singers" or "bluesmen". They were songsters. Songsters were entertainers, and their job was to sing and play whatever the audiences would want to hear. That included the blues, of course, but it also included... well, every song anyone would want to hear.  They'd perform old folk songs, vaudeville songs, songs that they'd heard on the radio or the jukebox -- whatever the audience wanted. Robert Johnson, for example, was known to particularly love playing polka music, and also adored the records of Jimmie Rodgers, the first country music superstar. In 1941, when Alan Lomax first recorded Muddy Waters, he asked Waters what kind of songs he normally played in performances, and he was given a list that included "Home on the Range", Gene Autry's "I've Got Spurs That Jingle Jangle Jingle", and Glenn Miller's "Chattanooga Choo-Choo". We have few recordings of these people performing this kind of song though. One of the few we have is Big Bill Broonzy, who was just about the only artist of this type not to get pigeonholed as just a blues singer, even though blues is what made him famous, and who later in his career managed to record songs like the Tin Pan Alley standard "The Glory of Love": [Excerpt: Big Bill Broonzy, "The Glory of Love"] But for the most part, the image we have of the blues comes down to one man, Arthur Laibley, a sales manager for the Wisconsin Chair Company. The Wisconsin Chair Company was, as the name would suggest, a company that started out making wooden chairs, but it had branched out into other forms of wooden furniture -- including, for a brief time, large wooden phonographs. And, like several other manufacturers, like the Radio Corporation of America -- RCA -- and the Gramophone Company, which became EMI, they realised that if they were going to sell the hardware it made sense to sell the software as well, and had started up Paramount Records, which bought up a small label, Black Swan, and soon became the biggest manufacturer of records for the Black market, putting out roughly a quarter of all "race records" released between 1922 and 1932. At first, most of these were produced by a Black talent scout, J. Mayo Williams, who had been the first person to record Ma Rainey, Papa Charlie Jackson, and Blind Lemon Jefferson, but in 1927 Williams left Paramount, and the job of supervising sessions went to Arthur Laibley, though according to some sources a lot of the actual production work was done by Aletha Dickerson, Williams' former assistant, who was almost certainly the first Black woman to be what we would now think of as a record producer. Williams had been interested in recording all kinds of music by Black performers, but when Laibley got a solo Black man into the studio, what he wanted more than anything was for him to record the blues, ideally in a style as close as possible to that of Blind Lemon Jefferson. Laibley didn't have a very hands-on approach to recording -- indeed Paramount had very little concern about the quality of their product anyway, and Paramount's records are notorious for having been put out on poor-quality shellac and recorded badly -- and he only occasionally made actual suggestions as to what kind of songs his performers should write -- for example he asked Son House to write something that sounded like Blind Lemon Jefferson, which led to House writing and recording "Mississippi County Farm Blues", which steals the tune of Jefferson's "See That My Grave is Kept Clean": [Excerpt: Son House, "Mississippi County Farm Blues"] When Skip James wanted to record a cover of James Wiggins' "Forty-Four Blues", Laibley suggested that instead he should do a song about a different gun, and so James recorded "Twenty-Two Twenty Blues": [Excerpt: Skip James, "Twenty-Two Twenty Blues"] And Laibley also suggested that James write a song about the Depression, which led to one of the greatest blues records ever, "Hard Time Killing Floor Blues": [Excerpt: Skip James, "Hard Time Killing Floor Blues"] These musicians knew that they were getting paid only for issued sides, and that Laibley wanted only blues from them, and so that's what they gave him. Even when it was a performer like Charlie Patton. (Incidentally, for those reading this as a transcript rather than listening to it, Patton's name is more usually spelled ending in ey, but as far as I can tell ie was his preferred spelling and that's what I'm using). Charlie Patton was best known as an entertainer, first and foremost -- someone who would do song-and-dance routines, joke around, play guitar behind his head. He was a clown on stage, so much so that when Son House finally heard some of Patton's records, in the mid-sixties, decades after the fact, he was astonished that Patton could actually play well. Even though House had been in the room when some of the records were made, his memory of Patton was of someone who acted the fool on stage. That's definitely not the impression you get from the Charlie Patton on record: [Excerpt: Charlie Patton, "Poor Me"] Patton is, as far as can be discerned, the person who was most influential in creating the music that became called the "Delta blues". Not a lot is known about Patton's life, but he was almost certainly the half-brother of the Chatmon brothers, who made hundreds of records, most notably as members of the Mississippi Sheiks: [Excerpt: The Mississippi Sheiks, "Sitting on Top of the World"] In the 1890s, Patton's family moved to Sunflower County, Mississippi, and he lived in and around that county until his death in 1934. Patton learned to play guitar from a musician called Henry Sloan, and then Patton became a mentor figure to a *lot* of other musicians in and around the plantation on which his family lived. Some of the musicians who grew up in the immediate area around Patton included Tommy Johnson: [Excerpt: Tommy Johnson, "Big Road Blues"] Pops Staples: [Excerpt: The Staple Singers, "Will The Circle Be Unbroken"] Robert Johnson: [Excerpt: Robert Johnson, "Crossroads"] Willie Brown, a musician who didn't record much, but who played a lot with Patton, Son House, and Robert Johnson and who we just heard Johnson sing about: [Excerpt: Willie Brown, "M&O Blues"] And Chester Burnett, who went on to become known as Howlin' Wolf, and whose vocal style was equally inspired by Patton and by the country star Jimmie Rodgers: [Excerpt: Howlin' Wolf, "Smokestack Lightnin'"] Once Patton started his own recording career for Paramount, he also started working as a talent scout for them, and it was him who brought Son House to Paramount. Soon after the Depression hit, Paramount stopped recording, and so from 1930 through 1934 Patton didn't make any records. He was tracked down by an A&R man in January 1934 and recorded one final session: [Excerpt, Charlie Patton, "34 Blues"] But he died of heart failure two months later. But his influence spread through his proteges, and they themselves influenced other musicians from the area who came along a little after, like Robert Lockwood and Muddy Waters. This music -- or that portion of it that was considered worth recording by white record producers, only a tiny, unrepresentative, portion of their vast performing repertoires -- became known as the Delta Blues, and when some of these musicians moved to Chicago and started performing with electric instruments, it became Chicago Blues. And as far as people like John Mayall in Britain were concerned, Delta and Chicago Blues *were* the blues: [Excerpt: John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, "It Ain't Right"] John Mayall was one of the first of the British blues obsessives, and for a long time thought of himself as the only one. While we've looked before at the growth of the London blues scene, Mayall wasn't from London -- he was born in Macclesfield and grew up in Cheadle Hulme, both relatively well-off suburbs of Manchester, and after being conscripted and doing two years in the Army, he had become an art student at Manchester College of Art, what is now Manchester Metropolitan University. Mayall had been a blues fan from the late 1940s, writing off to the US to order records that hadn't been released in the UK, and by most accounts by the late fifties he'd put together the biggest blues collection in Britain by quite some way. Not only that, but he had one of the earliest home tape recorders, and every night he would record radio stations from Continental Europe which were broadcasting for American service personnel, so he'd amassed mountains of recordings, often unlabelled, of obscure blues records that nobody else in the UK knew about. He was also an accomplished pianist and guitar player, and in 1956 he and his drummer friend Peter Ward had put together a band called the Powerhouse Four (the other two members rotated on a regular basis) mostly to play lunchtime jazz sessions at the art college. Mayall also started putting on jam sessions at a youth club in Wythenshawe, where he met another drummer named Hughie Flint. Over the late fifties and into the early sixties, Mayall more or less by himself built up a small blues scene in Manchester. The Manchester blues scene was so enthusiastic, in fact, that when the American Folk Blues Festival, an annual European tour which initially featured Willie Dixon, Memhis Slim, T-Bone Walker, Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee, and John Lee Hooker, first toured Europe, the only UK date it played was at the Manchester Free Trade Hall, and people like Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Brian Jones and Jimmy Page had to travel up from London to see it. But still, the number of blues fans in Manchester, while proportionally large, was objectively small enough that Mayall was captivated by an article in Melody Maker which talked about Alexis Korner and Cyril Davies' new band Blues Incorporated and how it was playing electric blues, the same music he was making in Manchester. He later talked about how the article had made him think that maybe now people would know what he was talking about. He started travelling down to London to play gigs for the London blues scene, and inviting Korner up to Manchester to play shows there. Soon Mayall had moved down to London. Korner introduced Mayall to Davey Graham, the great folk guitarist, with whom Korner had recently recorded as a duo: [Excerpt: Alexis Korner and Davey Graham, "3/4 AD"] Mayall and Graham performed together as a duo for a while, but Graham was a natural solo artist if ever there was one. Slowly Mayall put a band together in London. On drums was his old friend Peter Ward, who'd moved down from Manchester with him. On bass was John McVie, who at the time knew nothing about blues -- he'd been playing in a Shadows-style instrumental group -- but Mayall gave him a stack of blues records to listen to to get the feeling. And on guitar was Bernie Watson, who had previously played with Screaming Lord Sutch and the Savages. In late 1963, Mike Vernon, a blues fan who had previously published a Yardbirds fanzine, got a job working for Decca records, and immediately started signing his favourite acts from the London blues circuit. The first act he signed was John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, and they recorded a single, "Crawling up a Hill": [Excerpt: John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, "Crawling up a Hill (45 version)"] Mayall later called that a "clumsy, half-witted attempt at autobiographical comment", and it sold only five hundred copies. It would be the only record the Bluesbreakers would make with Watson, who soon left the band to be replaced by Roger Dean (not the same Roger Dean who later went on to design prog rock album covers). The second group to be signed by Mike Vernon to Decca was the Graham Bond Organisation. We've talked about the Graham Bond Organisation in passing several times, but not for a while and not in any great detail, so it's worth pulling everything we've said about them so far together and going through it in a little more detail. The Graham Bond Organisation, like the Rolling Stones, grew out of Alexis Korner's Blues Incorporated. As we heard in the episode on "I Wanna Be Your Man" a couple of years ago, Blues Incorporated had been started by Alexis Korner and Cyril Davies, and at the time we're joining them in 1962 featured a drummer called Charlie Watts, a pianist called Dave Stevens, and saxophone player Dick Heckstall-Smith, as well as frequent guest performers like a singer who called himself Mike Jagger, and another one, Roderick Stewart. That group finally found themselves the perfect bass player when Dick Heckstall-Smith put together a one-off group of jazz players to play an event at Cambridge University. At the gig, a little Scottish man came up to the group and told them he played bass and asked if he could sit in. They told him to bring along his instrument to their second set, that night, and he did actually bring along a double bass. Their bluff having been called, they decided to play the most complicated, difficult, piece they knew in order to throw the kid off -- the drummer, a trad jazz player named Ginger Baker, didn't like performing with random sit-in guests -- but astonishingly he turned out to be really good. Heckstall-Smith took down the bass player's name and phone number and invited him to a jam session with Blues Incorporated. After that jam session, Jack Bruce quickly became the group's full-time bass player. Bruce had started out as a classical cellist, but had switched to the double bass inspired by Bach, who he referred to as "the guv'nor of all bass players". His playing up to this point had mostly been in trad jazz bands, and he knew nothing of the blues, but he quickly got the hang of the genre. Bruce's first show with Blues Incorporated was a BBC recording: [Excerpt: Blues Incorporated, "Hoochie Coochie Man (BBC session)"] According to at least one source it was not being asked to take part in that session that made young Mike Jagger decide there was no future for him with Blues Incorporated and to spend more time with his other group, the Rollin' Stones. Soon after, Charlie Watts would join him, for almost the opposite reason -- Watts didn't want to be in a band that was getting as big as Blues Incorporated were. They were starting to do more BBC sessions and get more gigs, and having to join the Musicians' Union. That seemed like a lot of work. Far better to join a band like the Rollin' Stones that wasn't going anywhere. Because of Watts' decision to give up on potential stardom to become a Rollin' Stone, they needed a new drummer, and luckily the best drummer on the scene was available. But then the best drummer on the scene was *always* available. Ginger Baker had first played with Dick Heckstall-Smith several years earlier, in a trad group called the Storyville Jazzmen. There Baker had become obsessed with the New Orleans jazz drummer Baby Dodds, who had played with Louis Armstrong in the 1920s. Sadly because of 1920s recording technology, he hadn't been able to play a full kit on the recordings with Armstrong, being limited to percussion on just a woodblock, but you can hear his drumming style much better in this version of "At the Jazz Band Ball" from 1947, with Mugsy Spanier, Jack Teagarden, Cyrus St. Clair and Hank Duncan: [Excerpt: "At the Jazz Band Ball"] Baker had taken Dobbs' style and run with it, and had quickly become known as the single best player, bar none, on the London jazz scene -- he'd become an accomplished player in multiple styles, and was also fluent in reading music and arranging. He'd also, though, become known as the single person on the entire scene who was most difficult to get along with. He resigned from his first band onstage, shouting "You can stick your band up your arse", after the band's leader had had enough of him incorporating bebop influences into their trad style. Another time, when touring with Diz Disley's band, he was dumped in Germany with no money and no way to get home, because the band were so sick of him. Sometimes this was because of his temper and his unwillingness to suffer fools -- and he saw everyone else he ever met as a fool -- and sometimes it was because of his own rigorous musical ideas. He wanted to play music *his* way, and wouldn't listen to anyone who told him different. Both of these things got worse after he fell under the influence of a man named Phil Seaman, one of the only drummers that Baker respected at all. Seaman introduced Baker to African drumming, and Baker started incorporating complex polyrhythms into his playing as a result. Seaman also though introduced Baker to heroin, and while being a heroin addict in the UK in the 1960s was not as difficult as it later became -- both heroin and cocaine were available on prescription to registered addicts, and Baker got both, which meant that many of the problems that come from criminalisation of these drugs didn't affect addicts in the same way -- but it still did not, by all accounts, make him an easier person to get along with. But he *was* a fantastic drummer. As Dick Heckstall-Smith said "With the advent of Ginger, the classic Blues Incorporated line-up, one which I think could not be bettered, was set" But Alexis Korner decided that the group could be bettered, and he had some backers within the band. One of the other bands on the scene was the Don Rendell Quintet, a group that played soul jazz -- that style of jazz that bridged modern jazz and R&B, the kind of music that Ray Charles and Herbie Hancock played: [Excerpt: The Don Rendell Quintet, "Manumission"] The Don Rendell Quintet included a fantastic multi-instrumentalist, Graham Bond, who doubled on keyboards and saxophone, and Bond had been playing occasional experimental gigs with the Johnny Burch Octet -- a group led by another member of the Rendell Quartet featuring Heckstall-Smith, Bruce, Baker, and a few other musicians, doing wholly-improvised music. Heckstall-Smith, Bruce, and Baker all enjoyed playing with Bond, and when Korner decided to bring him into the band, they were all very keen. But Cyril Davies, the co-leader of the band with Korner, was furious at the idea. Davies wanted to play strict Chicago and Delta blues, and had no truck with other forms of music like R&B and jazz. To his mind it was bad enough that they had a sax player. But the idea that they would bring in Bond, who played sax and... *Hammond* organ? Well, that was practically blasphemy. Davies quit the group at the mere suggestion. Bond was soon in the band, and he, Bruce, and Baker were playing together a *lot*. As well as performing with Blues Incorporated, they continued playing in the Johnny Burch Octet, and they also started performing as the Graham Bond Trio. Sometimes the Graham Bond Trio would be Blues Incorporated's opening act, and on more than one occasion the Graham Bond Trio, Blues Incorporated, and the Johnny Burch Octet all had gigs in different parts of London on the same night and they'd have to frantically get from one to the other. The Graham Bond Trio also had fans in Manchester, thanks to the local blues scene there and their connection with Blues Incorporated, and one night in February 1963 the trio played a gig there. They realised afterwards that by playing as a trio they'd made £70, when they were lucky to make £20 from a gig with Blues Incorporated or the Octet, because there were so many members in those bands. Bond wanted to make real money, and at the next rehearsal of Blues Incorporated he announced to Korner that he, Bruce, and Baker were quitting the band -- which was news to Bruce and Baker, who he hadn't bothered consulting. Baker, indeed, was in the toilet when the announcement was made and came out to find it a done deal. He was going to kick up a fuss and say he hadn't been consulted, but Korner's reaction sealed the deal. As Baker later said "‘he said “it's really good you're doing this thing with Graham, and I wish you the best of luck” and all that. And it was a bit difficult to turn round and say, “Well, I don't really want to leave the band, you know.”'" The Graham Bond Trio struggled at first to get the gigs they were expecting, but that started to change when in April 1963 they became the Graham Bond Quartet, with the addition of virtuoso guitarist John McLaughlin. The Quartet soon became one of the hottest bands on the London R&B scene, and when Duffy Power, a Larry Parnes teen idol who wanted to move into R&B, asked his record label to get him a good R&B band to back him on a Beatles cover, it was the Graham Bond Quartet who obliged: [Excerpt: Duffy Power, "I Saw Her Standing There"] The Quartet also backed Power on a package tour with other Parnes acts, but they were also still performing their own blend of hard jazz and blues, as can be heard in this recording of the group live in June 1953: [Excerpt: The Graham Bond Quartet, "Ho Ho Country Kicking Blues (Live at Klooks Kleek)"] But that lineup of the group didn't last very long. According to the way Baker told the story, he fired McLaughlin from the group, after being irritated by McLaughlin complaining about something on a day when Baker was out of cocaine and in no mood to hear anyone else's complaints. As Baker said "We lost a great guitar player and I lost a good friend." But the Trio soon became a Quartet again, as Dick Heckstall-Smith, who Baker had wanted in the band from the start, joined on saxophone to replace McLaughlin's guitar. But they were no longer called the Graham Bond Quartet. Partly because Heckstall-Smith joining allowed Bond to concentrate just on his keyboard playing, but one suspects partly to protect against any future lineup changes, the group were now The Graham Bond ORGANisation -- emphasis on the organ. The new lineup of the group got signed to Decca by Vernon, and were soon recording their first single, "Long Tall Shorty": [Excerpt: The Graham Bond Organisation, "Long Tall Shorty"] They recorded a few other songs which made their way onto an EP and an R&B compilation, and toured intensively in early 1964, as well as backing up Power on his follow-up to "I Saw Her Standing There", his version of "Parchman Farm": [Excerpt: Duffy Power, "Parchman Farm"] They also appeared in a film, just like the Beatles, though it was possibly not quite as artistically successful as "A Hard Day's Night": [Excerpt: Gonks Go Beat trailer] Gonks Go Beat is one of the most bizarre films of the sixties. It's a far-future remake of Romeo and Juliet. where the two star-crossed lovers are from opposing countries -- Beatland and Ballad Isle -- who only communicate once a year in an annual song contest which acts as their version of a war, and is overseen by "Mr. A&R", played by Frank Thornton, who would later star in Are You Being Served? Carry On star Kenneth Connor is sent by aliens to try to bring peace to the two warring countries, on pain of exile to Planet Gonk, a planet inhabited solely by Gonks (a kind of novelty toy for which there was a short-lived craze then). Along the way Connor encounters such luminaries of British light entertainment as Terry Scott and Arthur Mullard, as well as musical performances by Lulu, the Nashville Teens, and of course the Graham Bond Organisation, whose performance gets them a telling-off from a teacher: [Excerpt: Gonks Go Beat!] The group as a group only performed one song in this cinematic masterpiece, but Baker also made an appearance in a "drum battle" sequence where eight drummers played together: [Excerpt: Gonks Go Beat drum battle] The other drummers in that scene included, as well as some lesser-known players, Andy White who had played on the single version of "Love Me Do", Bobby Graham, who played on hits by the Kinks and the Dave Clark Five, and Ronnie Verrell, who did the drumming for Animal in the Muppet Show. Also in summer 1964, the group performed at the Fourth National Jazz & Blues Festival in Richmond -- the festival co-founded by Chris Barber that would evolve into the Reading Festival. The Yardbirds were on the bill, and at the end of their set they invited Bond, Baker, Bruce, Georgie Fame, and Mike Vernon onto the stage with them, making that the first time that Eric Clapton, Ginger Baker, and Jack Bruce were all on stage together. Soon after that, the Graham Bond Organisation got a new manager, Robert Stigwood. Things hadn't been working out for them at Decca, and Stigwood soon got the group signed to EMI, and became their producer as well. Their first single under Stigwood's management was a cover version of the theme tune to the Debbie Reynolds film "Tammy". While that film had given Tamla records its name, the song was hardly an R&B classic: [Excerpt: The Graham Bond Organisation, "Tammy"] That record didn't chart, but Stigwood put the group out on the road as part of the disastrous Chuck Berry tour we heard about in the episode on "All You Need is Love", which led to the bankruptcy of  Robert Stigwood Associates. The Organisation moved over to Stigwood's new company, the Robert Stigwood Organisation, and Stigwood continued to be the credited producer of their records, though after the "Tammy" disaster they decided they were going to take charge themselves of the actual music. Their first album, The Sound of 65, was recorded in a single three-hour session, and they mostly ran through their standard set -- a mixture of the same songs everyone else on the circuit was playing, like "Hoochie Coochie Man", "Got My Mojo Working", and "Wade in the Water", and originals like Bruce's "Train Time": [Excerpt: The Graham Bond Organisation, "Train Time"] Through 1965 they kept working. They released a non-album single, "Lease on Love", which is generally considered to be the first pop record to feature a Mellotron: [Excerpt: The Graham Bond Organisation, "Lease on Love"] and Bond and Baker also backed another Stigwood act, Winston G, on his debut single: [Excerpt: Winston G, "Please Don't Say"] But the group were developing severe tensions. Bruce and Baker had started out friendly, but by this time they hated each other. Bruce said he couldn't hear his own playing over Baker's loud drumming, Baker thought that Bruce was far too fussy a player and should try to play simpler lines. They'd both try to throw each other during performances, altering arrangements on the fly and playing things that would trip the other player up. And *neither* of them were particularly keen on Bond's new love of the Mellotron, which was all over their second album, giving it a distinctly proto-prog feel at times: [Excerpt: The Graham Bond Organisation, "Baby Can it Be True?"] Eventually at a gig in Golders Green, Baker started throwing drumsticks at Bruce's head while Bruce was trying to play a bass solo. Bruce retaliated by throwing his bass at Baker, and then jumping on him and starting a fistfight which had to be broken up by the venue security. Baker fired Bruce from the band, but Bruce kept turning up to gigs anyway, arguing that Baker had no right to sack him as it was a democracy. Baker always claimed that in fact Bond had wanted to sack Bruce but hadn't wanted to get his hands dirty, and insisted that Baker do it, but neither Bond nor Heckstall-Smith objected when Bruce turned up for the next couple of gigs. So Baker took matters into his own hands, He pulled out a knife and told Bruce "If you show up at one more gig, this is going in you." Within days, Bruce was playing with John Mayall, whose Bluesbreakers had gone through some lineup changes by this point. Roger Dean had only played with the Bluesbreakers for a short time before Mayall had replaced him. Mayall had not been impressed with Eric Clapton's playing with the Yardbirds at first -- even though graffiti saying "Clapton is God" was already starting to appear around London -- but he had been *very* impressed with Clapton's playing on "Got to Hurry", the B-side to "For Your Love": [Excerpt: The Yardbirds, "Got to Hurry"] When he discovered that Clapton had quit the band, he sprang into action and quickly recruited him to replace Dean. Clapton knew he had made the right choice when a month after he'd joined, the group got the word that Bob Dylan had been so impressed with Mayall's single "Crawling up a Hill" -- the one that nobody liked, not even Mayall himself -- that he wanted to jam with Mayall and his band in the studio. Clapton of course went along: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan and the Bluesbreakers, "If You Gotta Go, Go Now"] That was, of course, the session we've talked about in the Velvet Underground episode and elsewhere of which little other than that survives, and which Nico attended. At this point, Mayall didn't have a record contract, his experience recording with Mike Vernon having been no more successful than the Bond group's had been. But soon he got a one-off deal -- as a solo artist, not with the Bluesbreakers -- with Immediate Records. Clapton was the only member of the group to play on the single, which was produced by Immediate's house producer Jimmy Page: [Excerpt: John Mayall, "I'm Your Witchdoctor"] Page was impressed enough with Clapton's playing that he invited him round to Page's house to jam together. But what Clapton didn't know was that Page was taping their jam sessions, and that he handed those tapes over to Immediate Records -- whether he was forced to by his contract with the label or whether that had been his plan all along depends on whose story you believe, but Clapton never truly forgave him. Page and Clapton's guitar-only jams had overdubs by Bill Wyman, Ian Stewart, and drummer Chris Winter, and have been endlessly repackaged on blues compilations ever since: [Excerpt: Jimmy Page and Eric Clapton, "Draggin' My Tail"] But Mayall was having problems with John McVie, who had started to drink too much, and as soon as he found out that Jack Bruce was sacked by the Graham Bond Organisation, Mayall got in touch with Bruce and got him to join the band in McVie's place. Everyone was agreed that this lineup of the band -- Mayall, Clapton, Bruce, and Hughie Flint -- was going places: [Excerpt: John Mayall's Bluesbreakers with Jack Bruce, "Hoochie Coochie Man"] Unfortunately, it wasn't going to last long. Clapton, while he thought that Bruce was the greatest bass player he'd ever worked with, had other plans. He was going to leave the country and travel the world as a peripatetic busker. He was off on his travels, never to return. Luckily, Mayall had someone even better waiting in the wings. A young man had, according to Mayall, "kept coming down to all the gigs and saying, “Hey, what are you doing with him?” – referring to whichever guitarist was onstage that night – “I'm much better than he is. Why don't you let me play guitar for you?” He got really quite nasty about it, so finally, I let him sit in. And he was brilliant." Peter Green was probably the best blues guitarist in London at that time, but this lineup of the Bluesbreakers only lasted a handful of gigs -- Clapton discovered that busking in Greece wasn't as much fun as being called God in London, and came back very soon after he'd left. Mayall had told him that he could have his old job back when he got back, and so Green was out and Clapton was back in. And soon the Bluesbreakers' revolving door revolved again. Manfred Mann had just had a big hit with "If You Gotta Go, Go Now", the same song we heard Dylan playing earlier: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "If You Gotta Go, Go Now"] But their guitarist, Mike Vickers, had quit. Tom McGuinness, their bass player, had taken the opportunity to switch back to guitar -- the instrument he'd played in his first band with his friend Eric Clapton -- but that left them short a bass player. Manfred Mann were essentially the same kind of band as the Graham Bond Organisation -- a Hammond-led group of virtuoso multi-instrumentalists who played everything from hardcore Delta blues to complex modern jazz -- but unlike the Bond group they also had a string of massive pop hits, and so made a lot more money. The combination was irresistible to Bruce, and he joined the band just before they recorded an EP of jazz instrumental versions of recent hits: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction"] Bruce had also been encouraged by Robert Stigwood to do a solo project, and so at the same time as he joined Manfred Mann, he also put out a solo single, "Drinkin' and Gamblin'" [Excerpt: Jack Bruce, "Drinkin' and Gamblin'"] But of course, the reason Bruce had joined Manfred Mann was that they were having pop hits as well as playing jazz, and soon they did just that, with Bruce playing on their number one hit "Pretty Flamingo": [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "Pretty Flamingo"] So John McVie was back in the Bluesbreakers, promising to keep his drinking under control. Mike Vernon still thought that Mayall had potential, but the people at Decca didn't agree, so Vernon got Mayall and Clapton -- but not the other band members -- to record a single for a small indie label he ran as a side project: [Excerpt: John Mayall and Eric Clapton, "Bernard Jenkins"] That label normally only released records in print runs of ninety-nine copies, because once you hit a hundred copies you had to pay tax on them, but there was so much demand for that single that they ended up pressing up five hundred copies, making it the label's biggest seller ever. Vernon eventually convinced the heads at Decca that the Bluesbreakers could be truly big, and so he got the OK to record the album that would generally be considered the greatest British blues album of all time -- Blues Breakers, also known as the Beano album because of Clapton reading a copy of the British kids' comic The Beano in the group photo on the front. [Excerpt: John Mayall with Eric Clapton, "Ramblin' On My Mind"] The album was a mixture of originals by Mayall and the standard repertoire of every blues or R&B band on the circuit -- songs like "Parchman Farm" and "What'd I Say" -- but what made the album unique was Clapton's guitar tone. Much to the chagrin of Vernon, and of engineer Gus Dudgeon, Clapton insisted on playing at the same volume that he would on stage. Vernon later said of Dudgeon "I can remember seeing his face the very first time Clapton plugged into the Marshall stack and turned it up and started playing at the sort of volume he was going to play. You could almost see Gus's eyes meet over the middle of his nose, and it was almost like he was just going to fall over from the sheer power of it all. But after an enormous amount of fiddling around and moving amps around, we got a sound that worked." [Excerpt: John Mayall with Eric Clapton, "Hideaway"] But by the time the album cane out. Clapton was no longer with the Bluesbreakers. The Graham Bond Organisation had struggled on for a while after Bruce's departure. They brought in a trumpet player, Mike Falana, and even had a hit record -- or at least, the B-side of a hit record. The Who had just put out a hit single, "Substitute", on Robert Stigwood's record label, Reaction: [Excerpt: The Who, "Substitute"] But, as you'll hear in episode 183, they had moved to Reaction Records after a falling out with their previous label, and with Shel Talmy their previous producer. The problem was, when "Substitute" was released, it had as its B-side a song called "Circles" (also known as "Instant Party -- it's been released under both names). They'd recorded an earlier version of the song for Talmy, and just as "Substitute" was starting to chart, Talmy got an injunction against the record and it had to be pulled. Reaction couldn't afford to lose the big hit record they'd spent money promoting, so they needed to put it out with a new B-side. But the Who hadn't got any unreleased recordings. But the Graham Bond Organisation had, and indeed they had an unreleased *instrumental*. So "Waltz For a Pig" became the B-side to a top-five single, credited to The Who Orchestra: [Excerpt: The Who Orchestra, "Waltz For a Pig"] That record provided the catalyst for the formation of Cream, because Ginger Baker had written the song, and got £1,350 for it, which he used to buy a new car. Baker had, for some time, been wanting to get out of the Graham Bond Organisation. He was trying to get off heroin -- though he would make many efforts to get clean over the decades, with little success -- while Bond was starting to use it far more heavily, and was also using acid and getting heavily into mysticism, which Baker despised. Baker may have had the idea for what he did next from an article in one of the music papers. John Entwistle of the Who would often tell a story about an article in Melody Maker -- though I've not been able to track down the article itself to get the full details -- in which musicians were asked to name which of their peers they'd put into a "super-group". He didn't remember the full details, but he did remember that the consensus choice had had Eric Clapton on lead guitar, himself on bass, and Ginger Baker on drums. As he said later "I don't remember who else was voted in, but a few months later, the Cream came along, and I did wonder if somebody was maybe believing too much of their own press". Incidentally, like The Buffalo Springfield and The Pink Floyd, Cream, the band we are about to meet, had releases both with and without the definite article, and Eric Clapton at least seems always to talk about them as "the Cream" even decades later, but they're primarily known as just Cream these days. Baker, having had enough of the Bond group, decided to drive up to Oxford to see Clapton playing with the Bluesbreakers. Clapton invited him to sit in for a couple of songs, and by all accounts the band sounded far better than they had previously. Clapton and Baker could obviously play well together, and Baker offered Clapton a lift back to London in his new car, and on the drive back asked Clapton if he wanted to form a new band. Clapton was as impressed by Baker's financial skills as he was by his musicianship. He said later "Musicians didn't have cars. You all got in a van." Clearly a musician who was *actually driving a new car he owned* was going places. He agreed to Baker's plan. But of course they needed a bass player, and Clapton thought he had the perfect solution -- "What about Jack?" Clapton knew that Bruce had been a member of the Graham Bond Organisation, but didn't know why he'd left the band -- he wasn't particularly clued in to what the wider music scene was doing, and all he knew was that Bruce had played with both him and Baker, and that he was the best bass player he'd ever played with. And Bruce *was* arguably the best bass player in London at that point, and he was starting to pick up session work as well as his work with Manfred Mann. For example it's him playing on the theme tune to "After The Fox" with Peter Sellers, the Hollies, and the song's composer Burt Bacharach: [Excerpt: The Hollies with Peter Sellers, "After the Fox"] Clapton was insistent. Baker's idea was that the band should be the best musicians around. That meant they needed the *best* musicians around, not the second best. If Jack Bruce wasn't joining, Eric Clapton wasn't joining either. Baker very reluctantly agreed, and went round to see Bruce the next day -- according to Baker it was in a spirit of generosity and giving Bruce one more chance, while according to Bruce he came round to eat humble pie and beg for forgiveness. Either way, Bruce agreed to join the band. The three met up for a rehearsal at Baker's home, and immediately Bruce and Baker started fighting, but also immediately they realised that they were great at playing together -- so great that they named themselves the Cream, as they were the cream of musicians on the scene. They knew they had something, but they didn't know what. At first they considered making their performances into Dada projects, inspired by the early-twentieth-century art movement. They liked a band that had just started to make waves, the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band -- who had originally been called the Bonzo Dog Dada Band -- and they bought some props with the vague idea of using them on stage in the same way the Bonzos did. But as they played together they realised that they needed to do something different from that. At first, they thought they needed a fourth member -- a keyboard player. Graham Bond's name was brought up, but Clapton vetoed him. Clapton wanted Steve Winwood, the keyboard player and vocalist with the Spencer Davis Group. Indeed, Winwood was present at what was originally intended to be the first recording session the trio would play. Joe Boyd had asked Eric Clapton to round up a bunch of players to record some filler tracks for an Elektra blues compilation, and Clapton had asked Bruce and Baker to join him, Paul Jones on vocals, Winwood on Hammond and Clapton's friend Ben Palmer on piano for the session. Indeed, given that none of the original trio were keen on singing, that Paul Jones was just about to leave Manfred Mann, and that we know Clapton wanted Winwood in the band, one has to wonder if Clapton at least half-intended for this to be the eventual lineup of the band. If he did, that plan was foiled by Baker's refusal to take part in the session. Instead, this one-off band, named The Powerhouse, featured Pete York, the drummer from the Spencer Davis Group, on the session, which produced the first recording of Clapton playing on the Robert Johnson song originally titled "Cross Road Blues" but now generally better known just as "Crossroads": [Excerpt: The Powerhouse, "Crossroads"] We talked about Robert Johnson a little back in episode ninety-seven, but other than Bob Dylan, who was inspired by his lyrics, we had seen very little influence from Johnson up to this point, but he's going to be a major influence on rock guitar for the next few years, so we should talk about him a little here. It's often said that nobody knew anything about Robert Johnson, that he was almost a phantom other than his records which existed outside of any context as artefacts of their own. That's... not really the case. Johnson had died a little less than thirty years earlier, at only twenty-seven years old. Most of his half-siblings and step-siblings were alive, as were his son, his stepson, and dozens of musicians he'd played with over the years, women he'd had affairs with, and other assorted friends and relatives. What people mean is that information about Johnson's life was not yet known by people they consider important -- which is to say white blues scholars and musicians. Indeed, almost everything people like that -- people like *me* -- know of the facts of Johnson's life has only become known to us in the last four years. If, as some people had expected, I'd started this series with an episode on Johnson, I'd have had to redo the whole thing because of the information that's made its way to the public since then. But here's what was known -- or thought -- by white blues scholars in 1966. Johnson was, according to them, a field hand from somewhere in Mississippi, who played the guitar in between working on the cotton fields. He had done two recording sessions, in 1936 and 1937. One song from his first session, "Terraplane Blues", had been a very minor hit by blues standards: [Excerpt: Robert Johnson, "Terraplane Blues"] That had sold well -- nobody knows how well, but maybe as many as ten thousand copies, and it was certainly a record people knew in 1937 if they liked the Delta blues, but ten thousand copies total is nowhere near the sales of really successful records, and none of the follow-ups had sold anything like that much -- many of them had sold in the hundreds rather than the thousands. As Elijah Wald, one of Johnson's biographers put it "knowing about Johnson and Muddy Waters but not about Leroy Carr or Dinah Washington was like knowing about, say, the Sir Douglas Quintet but not knowing about the Beatles" -- though *I* would add that the Sir Douglas Quintet were much bigger during the sixties than Johnson was during his lifetime. One of the few white people who had noticed Johnson's existence at all was John Hammond, and he'd written a brief review of Johnson's first two singles under a pseudonym in a Communist newspaper. I'm going to quote it here, but the word he used to talk about Black people was considered correct then but isn't now, so I'll substitute Black for that word: "Before closing we cannot help but call your attention to the greatest [Black] blues singer who has cropped up in recent years, Robert Johnson. Recording them in deepest Mississippi, Vocalion has certainly done right by us and by the tunes "Last Fair Deal Gone Down" and "Terraplane Blues", to name only two of the four sides already released, sung to his own guitar accompaniment. Johnson makes Leadbelly sound like an accomplished poseur" Hammond had tried to get Johnson to perform at the Spirituals to Swing concerts we talked about in the very first episodes of the podcast, but he'd discovered that he'd died shortly before. He got Big Bill Broonzy instead, and played a couple of Johnson's records from a record player on the stage. Hammond introduced those recordings with a speech: "It is tragic that an American audience could not have been found seven or eight years ago for a concert of this kind. Bessie Smith was still at the height of her career and Joe Smith, probably the greatest trumpet player America ever knew, would still have been around to play obbligatos for her...dozens of other artists could have been there in the flesh. But that audience as well as this one would not have been able to hear Robert Johnson sing and play the blues on his guitar, for at that time Johnson was just an unknown hand on a Robinsonville, Mississippi plantation. Robert Johnson was going to be the big surprise of the evening for this audience at Carnegie Hall. I know him only from his Vocalion blues records and from the tall, exciting tales the recording engineers and supervisors used to bring about him from the improvised studios in Dallas and San Antonio. I don't believe Johnson had ever worked as a professional musician anywhere, and it still knocks me over when I think of how lucky it is that a talent like his ever found its way onto phonograph records. We will have to be content with playing two of his records, the old "Walkin' Blues" and the new, unreleased, "Preachin' Blues", because Robert Johnson died last week at the precise moment when Vocalion scouts finally reached him and told him that he was booked to appear at Carnegie Hall on December 23. He was in his middle twenties and nobody seems to know what caused his death." And that was, for the most part, the end of Robert Johnson's impact on the culture for a generation. The Lomaxes went down to Clarksdale, Mississippi a couple of years later -- reports vary as to whether this was to see if they could find Johnson, who they were unaware was dead, or to find information out about him, and they did end up recording a young singer named Muddy Waters for the Library of Congress, including Waters' rendition of "32-20 Blues", Johnson's reworking of Skip James' "Twenty-Two Twenty Blues": [Excerpt: Muddy Waters, "32-20 Blues"] But Johnson's records remained unavailable after their initial release until 1959, when the blues scholar Samuel Charters published the book The Country Blues, which was the first book-length treatment ever of Delta blues. Sixteen years later Charters said "I shouldn't have written The Country Blues when I did; since I really didn't know enough, but I felt I couldn't afford to wait. So The Country Blues was two things. It was a romanticization of certain aspects of black life in an effort to force the white society to reconsider some of its racial attitudes, and on the other hand it was a cry for help. I wanted hundreds of people to go out and interview the surviving blues artists. I wanted people to record them and document their lives, their environment, and their music, not only so that their story would be preserved but also so they'd get a little money and a little recognition in their last years." Charters talked about Johnson in the book, as one of the performers who played "minor roles in the story of the blues", and said that almost nothing was known about his life. He talked about how he had been poisoned by his common-law wife, about how his records were recorded in a pool hall, and said "The finest of Robert Johnson's blues have a brooding sense of torment and despair. The blues has become a personified figure of despondency." Along with Charters' book came a compilation album of the same name, and that included the first ever reissue of one of Johnson's tracks, "Preaching Blues": [Excerpt: Robert Johnson, "Preaching Blues"] Two years later, John Hammond, who had remained an ardent fan of Johnson, had Columbia put out the King of the Delta Blues Singers album. At the time no white blues scholars knew what Johnson looked like and they had no photos of him, so a generic painting of a poor-looking Black man with a guitar was used for the cover. The liner note to King of the Delta Blues Singers talked about how Johnson was seventeen or eighteen when he made his recordings, how he was "dead before he reached his twenty-first birthday, poisoned by a jealous girlfriend", how he had "seldom, if ever, been away from the plantation in Robinsville, Mississippi, where he was born and raised", and how he had had such stage fright that when he was asked to play in front of other musicians, he'd turned to face a wall so he couldn't see them. And that would be all that any of the members of the Powerhouse would know about Johnson. Maybe they'd also heard the rumours that were starting to spread that Johnson had got his guitar-playing skills by selling his soul to the devil at a crossroads at midnight, but that would have been all they knew when they recorded their filler track for Elektra: [Excerpt: The Powerhouse, "Crossroads"] Either way, the Powerhouse lineup only lasted for that one session -- the group eventually decided that a simple trio would be best for the music they wanted to play. Clapton had seen Buddy Guy touring with just a bass player and drummer a year earlier, and had liked the idea of the freedom that gave him as a guitarist. The group soon took on Robert Stigwood as a manager, which caused more arguments between Bruce and Baker. Bruce was convinced that if they were doing an all-for-one one-for-all thing they should also manage themselves, but Baker pointed out that that was a daft idea when they could get one of the biggest managers in the country to look after them. A bigger argument, which almost killed the group before it started, happened when Baker told journalist Chris Welch of the Melody Maker about their plans. In an echo of the way that he and Bruce had been resigned from Blues Incorporated without being consulted, now with no discussion Manfred Mann and John Mayall were reading in the papers that their band members were quitting before those members had bothered to mention it. Mayall was furious, especially since the album Clapton had played on hadn't yet come out. Clapton was supposed to work a month's notice while Mayall found another guitarist, but Mayall spent two weeks begging Peter Green to rejoin the band. Green was less than eager -- after all, he'd been fired pretty much straight away earlier -- but Mayall eventually persuaded him. The second he did, Mayall turned round to Clapton and told him he didn't have to work the rest of his notice -- he'd found another guitar player and Clapton was fired: [Excerpt: John Mayall's Bluesbreakers, "Dust My Blues"] Manfred Mann meanwhile took on the Beatles' friend Klaus Voorman to replace Bruce. Voorman would remain with the band until the end, and like Green was for Mayall, Voorman was in some ways a better fit for Manfred Mann than Bruce was. In particular he could double on flute, as he did for example on their hit version of Bob Dylan's "The Mighty Quinn": [Excerpt: Manfred Mann "The Mighty Quinn"] The new group, The Cream, were of course signed in the UK to Stigwood's Reaction label. Other than the Who, who only stuck around for one album, Reaction was not a very successful label. Its biggest signing was a former keyboard player for Screaming Lord Sutch, who recorded for them under the names Paul Dean and Oscar, but who later became known as Paul Nicholas and had a successful career in musical theatre and sitcom. Nicholas never had any hits for Reaction, but he did release one interesting record, in 1967: [Excerpt: Oscar, "Over the Wall We Go"] That was one of the earliest songwriting attempts by a young man who had recently named himself David Bowie. Now the group were public, they started inviting journalists to their rehearsals, which were mostly spent trying to combine their disparate musical influences --

Sometimes we take requests, and sometimes we take a while to cover those requests. And sometimes, sometimes, someone who's waiting to hear us cover their request sends us back-up requests in case their first requests were not holidays-ish enough. Thus, sometimes -- specifically this time -- Ian uncerimoniously schedules those backup requests for an episode several years later even though one of them is about a incredibly sad real-world tragedy. Soooo, we're talking about "Christmas Eve Blues" by Blind Lemon Jefferson and "1913 Massacre" by Woody Guthrie. The ranking music for this episode is "Solidarity Forever" as performed by The Mountain Goats. Thank you to Myles for these (backup) requests!

A progenitor is a person without whom the path of the topic being discussed might be very different. That's the case with Memphis Minnie (not her real name), and Blind Lemon Jefferson (his real name) both of whom laid foundation stones for so much of what Rock & Roll drew upon when it came around. Starting in the 1890s, we follow both artists and their path of influence on future players! Both were superstars in their time, creating the pathways for those to come, some of which are part of our story this week. We love our sponsors!!! Please visit their web sites, and support them because they make this crazy show go: Boldfoot Socks  https://boldfoot.com Crooked Eye Brewery  https://crookedeyebrewery.com/ Don't forget that you can find all of our episodes, on-demand, for free right here on our web site: https://imbalancedhistory.com/   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A progenitor is a person without whom the path of the topic being discussed might be very different. That's the case with Memphis Minnie (not her real name), and Blind Lemon Jefferson (his real name) both of whom laid foundation stones for so much of what Rock & Roll drew upon when it came around. Starting in the 1890s, we follow both artists and their path of influence on future players! Both were superstars in their time, creating the pathways for those to come, some of which are part of our story this week. We love our sponsors!!! Please visit their web sites, and support them because they make this crazy show go: Boldfoot Socks  https://boldfoot.com Crooked Eye Brewery  https://crookedeyebrewery.com/ Don't forget that you can find all of our episodes, on-demand, for free right here on our web site: https://imbalancedhistory.com/   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In this thrilling episode we look at the blues roots of rock music! Some of the artists discussed are Robert Johnson, Blind Lemon Jefferson, and of course W.C. Handy.

 | Artist  | Title  | Album Name  | Album Copyright | Tommy McClennan  | Blues Trip me this Morning (1942)  | Broadcasting the Blues, volume 2 | Alan Price & Rob Hoeke  | Careless Love  | Two Of A Kind  |  | Little Monsters  | Three Times A Fool  | Little Monsters  |  | Aynsley Lister  | Cast A Light  | Along For The Ride  |  | Tomislav Goluban  | Can't Find Myself  | Chicago Rambler  | Spona 203 | Blind Lemon Jefferson & George Perkins (P)  | Rising High Water Blues  | Complete Recorded Works In Chronological Order | Bonnie Mac Band  | Mama He Treats Your Daughter Mean  | Pleasure and Pain  |  | Henri Herbert  | It Dont Mean a Thing  | Boogie Till I Die  |  | Struggle Buggy  | Rag, Mama, Rag  | Tear 'Em Down  |  | One String Willie  | Church I'm Fully Saved Today  | If I Had My Way: A Cigar Box Tribute To Blind Willie Johnson | The Golden Gate Quartet  | When They Ring the Golden Bell  | Gospel Masters: Rock My Soul | Geraint Watkins  | Heaven Only Knows  | Rush Of Blood  |  | Chuck Berry  | Around and Around  | The Ultimate Collection cd 1 | Duane Eddy  | Peter Gunn  | The Rocking Guitar Man | Hot Tuna  | Hit Single #1  | Hot Tuna-New York Academy Of Music  9261974 | Guy King  | King Thing  | TRUTH (mp3)  |  | Vegas Strip Kings  | It Ain't  | Jackpot  |   | 

Vera Hall "Death, Have Mercy"Fleetwood Mac "Green Manalishi (With the Two Pronged Crown)"Bessie Smith "Graveyard Dream Blues"Billy Joe Shaver "The Devil Made Me Do It the First Time"Ted Leo and the Pharmacists "I'm A Ghost"Sister Rosetta Tharpe "Strange Things Happening Every Day"Tampa Red "Witchin' Hour Blues"Neil Young "Vampire Blues"Lefty Frizzell "The Long Black Veil"Muddy Waters "Got My Mojo Working"Dr. John "Black John the Conqueror"Leon Redbone "Haunted House"Little Willie John "I'm Shakin'"Shotgun Jazz Band "Old Man Mose"Lil Green "Romance In the Dark"The Make-Up "They Live By Night"Uncle Tupelo "Graveyard Shift"Bessie Jones "Oh Death"Albert King "Born Under a Bad Sign"Nina Simone "I Want a Little Sugar In My Bowl"Oscar Celestin "Marie Laveau"Reverend Gary Davis "Death Don't Have No Mercy"Roy Newman & His Boys "Sadie Green (The Vamp of New Orleans)"Jessie Mae Hemphill "She-Wolf"Screamin' Jay Hawkins "I Put a Spell On You"Eilen Jewell "It's Your Voodoo Working"George Olsen and His Music "Tain't No Sin to Dance Around in Your Bones"Son House "Death Letter"Johnny Cash "The Man Comes Around"Fleetwood Mac "Black Magic Woman"Blind Lemon Jefferson "See That My Grave Is Kept Clean"Elvis Costello & the Roots "Wise Up Ghost"Hank Williams "Howlin' At the Moon"Bob Dylan "That Old Black Magic"The Halo Benders "Scarin'"Blind Willie Johnson "Dark Was The Night, Cold Was The Ground"Steve And Justin Townes Earle "Candy Man"Billie Holiday "Sugar"Jeff Beck "I Ain't Superstitious"Cab Calloway/Cab Calloway Orchestra "St. James Infirmary"Bonnie Raitt "Devil Got My Woman"Sebadoh "Vampire"Fred McDowell "Death Came In"Howlin' Wolf "Evil"Ella Fitzgerald "Chew-Chew-Chew (Your Bubble Gum)"Robert Johnson "Hellhound On My Trail"John Mayall & The Bluesbreakers "The Super-Natural"Tom Waits "Big Joe and Phantom 309"

Will there be another Beatles or Nirvana to save Rock Music? Are we doomed to two turntables and a microphone? Can we get back to guitars and drums? What will be the next big thing? We need one more band to change the World. Blind Lemon Jefferson is our SOB of a the week. Cocktail of the Week is the Planter's Punch.

 | Artist  | Title  | Album Name  | Album Copyright  |  | Jerry Reed  | Tupelo Mississippi Flash  |   |  | Chris Barber Featuring Ottilie Patterson  | Jail House Blues  | Jazz Masters Beale Street Blues | Lightnin' Hopkins  | Black Cadillac  | In The Key Of Lightnin  |  | Bukka White  | Bukka's Jitterbug Swing  | The Complete Sessions 1930-1940 | Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee  | Cornbread, Peas And Black Molasses (Recorded Live At The Free T  | Chris Barber Presents The Blues Legacy Lost & Found Series | Rev Gary Davis  | Cincinnati Flow Rag 1  | The Ernie Hawkins Session CD 3 | Scrapper Blackwell  | Blues Before Sunrise  | Mr Scrapper's Blues  |   |  | Snooks Eaglin  | High Society  | New Orleans Street Singer  |  | Big Bill Broonzy  | Key To The Highway  | Four Classic Albums Plus - CD One | Corey Harris  | High Fever Blues (solo version)  | Fish Ain't Bitin'  |   |  | Skip James  | Hard Time Killin' Floor Blues  | The Complete Early Recordings of Skip James - 1930 | Grey Ghost  | Sheik of Araby  | Grey Ghost  |   |  | Lonnie Johnson  | Four Hands Are Better Than Two  | Jazz Legends  |   |  | Blind Lemon Jefferson  | Match Box Blues  | Complete Recorded Works In Chronological Order | Mound City Blue Blowers  | Arkansas Blues [Chicago 2.23.24]  | Vibraphonic #3  |   |  | Sidney Bechet  | Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out

「The Blues is the roots and everything else is the fruits.」蓝调音乐作为几乎最有影响力的及种音乐风格的「母亲」，存在已经有超过 100 年的时间。但鲜少有人知道蓝调的起源究竟是什么样的？它如何出现？为何出现？有什么特点？这期节目，将会从历史的角度来和你聊聊，蓝调音乐的起源是什么，因此，你将会听到一些原始的录音，以及最古老的蓝调。欢迎你的收听 :)

New podcast theme, who dis? jubileestreetpod@gmail.com

 | Artist  | Title  | Album Name  | Album Copyright  |  | Prakash Slim  | Me And The Devil Blues  | Country Blues From Nepal  |  | Hans Theessink and Big Daddy Wilson  | Virus Blues  | Pay Day  |   |   |  | Catfish Keith  | Some of These Days.mp3  | Land of the Sky  |   |  | Doug MacLeod  | Money Talks  | Doug MacLeod~A Soul to Claim | Hubert Dorigatti  | Meat shakin mama  | A Walk with Blind Boy  |  | Manny Fizzotti  | Useless [Feat Brendan O Neill]  | Nobody Understands  |  | Barrel House Welch  | Dying Pickpocket Blues  | The Paramount Masters - CD 2/4 | Blind Lemon Jefferson  | Match Box Blues  | Complete Recorded Works In Chronological Order | Dean Haitani  | Red Dust  | RED DUST  |   |  | Half Deaf Clatch  | Bye And Bye I'm Goin' To See The King  | Modern and Primitive  |  | Chubby Parker  | Davey Crockett  | The Stuff that Dreams are Made Of (disc 2) | Little G Weevil  | Early In The Morning  | Live Acoustic Session  |  | Petra Börnerová Duo & Besenyei Csaba  | Perpetual Blues Machine  | Petra Börnerová duo _ Besenyei Csaba - Acoustic Session 2 | Dik Banovich  | Let's Get Drunk  | Run to You  |   | 

In this episode, we first examine the birth of the blues in Texas and the life of Blind Lemon Jefferson. We follow that with an interview with guitarist and singer Larry Wilson, where he discusses his career, influences, and shares stories from his life on the road. Larry finishes the show with a stripped down live rendition of his song "The Distance"

The recording session with Victoria Spivey & Big Joe Williams, playing some tunes at a NYC apartment gathering, finishing "Let Me Die in My Footsteps, writing "Talking Folklore Center," and, of course, the debut of his first album: join us for a tour of Bob Dylan's professional life in March of 1962 as we travel "A Highway of Diamonds" back 60 years ago to the month. A 60th anniversary is a diamond anniversary, so this week, and throughout the year, we will periodically take a trip on "a highway of diamonds," exploring the events of Bob Dylan's career sixty years ago. This week, we listen to what Bob Dylan was up to in March of 1962. In "20 Pounds of Headlines," we bring you news from the world of Bob Dylan, both in March of 1962 and March of 2022. In "Who Did It Better?" we ask you to vote and tell us who did "You're No Good" better: Jesse Fuller or Bob Dylan off his debut album released on March 19, 1962? Listen to the episode, then go to our Twitter page @RainTrains to vote!

Thomas Mirus goes solo in this episode to talk about how his relationship to music was completely transformed in his late teens, by exposure to the music of alto saxophonist Charlie Parker. Before he had used music to stimulate an emotional response, but soon he found himself listening for the sake of musical beauty itself, regardless of emotions or lack thereof. This quickly opened up a whole world of contemplation (musical and otherwise). After discussing this deeper way of listening to music, Thomas explains how to follow the musical form of a jazz performance, and introduces the music of Charlie Parker and the new form of jazz he pioneered in the 1940s and early 50s, known as bebop. If you want to listen more extensively to the jazz artists heard in this episode, check out these albums (no links because these things are always going in and out of print in different compilations): Charlie Parker, listen to the complete Savoy and Dial master takes in whatever compilation you can find Bud Powell, Jazz Giant Clifford Brown and Max Roach at Basin Street Sonny Rollins Plus Four Music heard in this episode: Blind Lemon Jefferson, “Rising High Water Blues” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsFNi0ZVzj4 Charlie Parker, “Perhaps” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LOOvq1sJvw Charlie Parker, “Blues for Alice” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7USMqAH8qk Charlie Parker, “Parker's Mood” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Wa7El-k3jQ Charlie Parker, “Anthropology” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HkFBT4h190 Bud Powell, “So Sorry Please” from Jazz Giant https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-IoDXFWr1c&list=PL9C4lRUjCkCt_oXThX81D3LhhRIUXVDqb&index=6 Clifford Brown and Max Roach, “Gertrude's Bounce” from At Basin Street https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQ7TdrmmDkc&list=PLUJ7V33M1wR3yDePSuvG8W1LmV3uuPg-S&index=8 Sonny Rollins, “Pent-Up House” from Plus Four https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=INeqyCTvm4s&list=OLAK5uy_k6jR4wR5XEIyRL95Ov95VXhkYkAKQZIfw This podcast is a production of CatholicCulture.org. If you like the show, please consider supporting us! http://catholicculture.org/donate/audio

 | Artist  | Title  | Album Name  | Album Copyright | Shawn Pittman  | Lightnin's Stomp  | Stompin' Solo  |  | Ed Bell  | Hambone Blues  | The Paramount Masters - CD 4/4 | Hans Theessink and Big Daddy Wilson  | Virus Blues  | Pay Day  |   |  | Prakash Slim  | Crossroad Blues  | Country Blues From Nepal | Piano Kid Edwards  | Give Us Another Jug  | The Paramount Masters - CD 4/4 | Duke Ellington  | Mood Indigo  | Rockin' In Rhythm  |  | Little G Weevil  | On My Way To Memphis  | Live Acoustic Session | Sawmill Roots Orchestra  | Build Me A Statue  | Sawmill Roots Orchestra | Lightnin' Hopkins  | My Babe  | Double Blues (1972)  |  | Blind Lemon Jefferson  | Bed Spring Blues  | The Best Of Blind Lemon Jefferson | Meade Lux Lewis  | Honky Tonk Train Blues  | The Paramount Masters - CD 1/4 | Otis Rush  | Three Times A Fool  | Total Blues - 100 Essential Songs | John Hammond  | Cryin' For My Baby  | Southern Fried  |  | Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee  | Backwater Blues  | Ash Grove 01-21-1967 1st Show | John Lee Hooker  | Worried Life Blues  | Total Blues - 100 Essential Songs

Nat Myers is a songwriter from Kenton County, KY. A poet with an amazing voice, Myers will blow you away with folksy blues and talented pickin', an incredible acoustic blues player and singer, and uses this musical medium to tell his stories. His delivery follows in the footsteps of players like Blind Lemon Jefferson, Mississippi Fred McDowell and his favorite, Charlie Patton. Nat's music isn't pure; it's raw and rigid. But it's his unique sound that continues to make crowds across the country drop their jaws.

Dr Downhome's Blues Podcast #7 – Otis Rush, Rubin Lacey, Sleepy John Estes, Kid Bailey, Blind Joe Reynolds, Bo Weavil Jackson, Sonny Boy Williamson 1, Sonny Boy Williamson 2, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Ramblin' Thomas, Peg Leg Howell, Memphis Willie B Borum, Charley Patton, Robert Johnson, Freddie Spruell, Tommy McClennan

The boys bring it on home (well, almost) with the final track on The Firstborn is Dead, Blind Lemon Jefferson.

Hannah, Sheena and Lori explore the lives and music of three extraordinary blues artists in this week's episode. Lori shares the story of Blind Lemon Jefferson, Hannah discusses Robert Johnson and Sheena talks about Lillie Mae Glover, the Mother of Beale Street.

Major David Hughes serves as Chief of Professional Standards at the Newport News Sheriff's Office in Virginia. After nearly falling victim to his own local police culture, and then spending years considering its systemic issues, Major Hughes simply was not willing to keep silent after the killing of George Floyd. He sat down and penned a stunning op-ed for the New York Times entitled, "I'm a Black Police Officer. Here's How to Change the System." After we read it, we knew we had to speak to him. You can find Major Hughes' op-ed here. Reverend Freakchild's cover of Blind Lemon Jefferson's "See That My Grave Is Kept Clean" is provided courtesy of KBOO Community Radio in Portland, Oregon via a Creative Commons Attribution, Non-Commercial, No Derivatives International 4.0 licence. For more information about KBOO you can visit their website here.

In Leadbelly Part 2 we continue the story of Huddie Ledbetter, one of the most influential musicians of all time. We cover his early adult life in Dallas, his collaboration with the great Blues legend Blind Lemon Jefferson, and hear some of the music that earned him the moniker “King of the Twelve String Guitar.” He was known for his tumultuous life as well as his musical genius. We explore his first arrest, his escape from prison that made him a wanted fugitive, his new life under the alias “Walter Boyd” and the murder that would change the course of his life forever. Join me for Part 2 as we uncover more of the legend behind the man we now know as Leadbelly.

Jug bands got their name from using instruments that were either homemade or household items such as a jug. Beginnings in the South in the 19th century, with origins in Louisville, KY, they were made up predominately of African-American musicians and were in their heyday from the 1890s to the Great Depression. Playing a mixture of blues, ragtime, and jazz, jug bands were some of the first musicians to record and a key contributor to the evolution of blues and early rock and roll. The folk revival in the 60's launched a second wave of jug-band music and it continues to exist and evolve today. On this WoodSongs broadcast, we'll be celebrating the music and history of jug bands with musicians from across the country. JIM KWESKIN is a folk music legend and founder of the legendary 1960s Jim Kweskin Jug Band which successfully transformed the sounds of pre-World War II rural music into a springboard for their good-humored performances. Their imitators were legion, including The Grateful Dead, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, the Lovin' Spoonful and more. These days Jim is best known as a singer and bandleader, but he also created one of the bedrock guitar styles of the folk revival. JERRON “BLIND BOY” PAXTON transforms traditional jazz, blues, folk, and country into the here and now. Hailing from NYC, his sound is influenced by the likes of Fats Waller and "Blind" Lemon Jefferson. According to The Wall Street Journal, Paxton is "virtually the only music-maker of his generation—playing guitar, banjo, piano and violin, among other implements—to fully assimilate the blues idiom of the 1920s and ‘30s." THE STEEL CITY JUG SLAMMERS made a name for themselves in Birmingham, AL with a new album, extensive touring and the band's recent induction into the Jug Band Hall of Fame. WoodSongs Kids: The Wallace Sisters are three harmozing siblings from Lexington, Kentucky.

Robert Johnson is a central figure of The Blues! In this episode, Markus and Ray discuss Johnson and those Blues artists who preceded him. Not only do we go over Johnson's life and the lives of some of his contemporaries, but we also dig back on Leadbelly, Bessie Smith, Big Bill Broonzy, Charlie Patton, "The Mississippis" (John and Fred), Blind Blake, Blind Willie McTell, and Blind Lemon Jefferson.

Robert Johnson is a central figure of The Blues! In this episode, Markus and Ray discuss Johnson and those Blues artists who preceded him. Not only do we go over Johnson's life and the lives of some of his contemporaries, but we also dig back on Leadbelly, Bessie Smith, Big Bill Broonzy, Charlie Patton, "The Mississippis" (John and Fred), Blind Blake, Blind Willie McTell, and Blind Lemon Jefferson.This show is part of Pantheon Podcasts.