Podcasts about Ma Rainey

**THIS EPISODE CONTAINS FULL SPOILERS**For our Connections Series finale, we close out with a powerful, resonant adaptation of August Wilson's "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" (2020), directed by George C. Wolfe and adapted for the screen by Ruben Santiago-Hudson. This tense, intimate drama set in a 1927 Chicago recording studio explores exploitation, racism, and the self-hate that racism breeds - all anchored by powerful performances from Viola Davis and the late Chadwick Boseman. Does this play translate well to the big screen? Listen to find out! And thanks for joining us this season - Film is Lit will be back later this summer with season 16 - our most thrilling season yet! Surprises are on the horizon ;)#FilmIsLit #MaRaineysBlackBottom #Season14Finale #FilmPodcast #Adaptation #AugustWilson #BlackVoicesMatter #ViolaDavis #ChadwickBoseman #GlynnTurman #ColmanDomingo #MichaelPotts #BroadwayToScreen #NetflixFilm #SummerPreview #ConnectionsSeries

Cette année, le marché de la Poésie de Paris aura pour pays invité la Palestine. À cette occasion et dans le cadre d'une journée spéciale Gaza sur l'antenne de RFI, nous mettons à l'honneur la poésie palestinienne. «Poète, ne lâche pas ta plume, tant que l'esprit est sauf», ainsi s'exprimait en 2003 dans La Terre est une orange amère, Abdellatif Laâbi. Poète, romancier, dramaturge, il est le premier à avoir traduit en français, les textes du Palestinien, Mahmoud Darwich. Et il est aujourd'hui l'auteur d'une anthologie de la poésie gazaouie contemporaine. Un recueil qui nous plonge dans l'histoire immédiate, celle du territoire de Gaza, meurtri depuis plus de 18 mois. Quand la destruction, le fracas des bombes et le deuil dominent. Il reste en effet les mots pour résister, se soulager d'un poids ou s'affirmer tout simplement humain. Nous recevons aussi, Tarik Hamdan,  journaliste pour MCD et poète. Il a publié Exercices d'apprentissage aux éditions Lanskine. Abdellatif Laâbi et Tarik Hamdan sont les invités de Sur le pont des arts.  Au programme de l'émission : ►Reportage  Sarah Cozzolino nous fait visiter un lieu inscrit au patrimoine mondial de l'Unesco situé au Brésil, le site Bourle Marx du nom d'un paysagiste pionnier qui a été parmi les premiers à alerter contre la déforestation et collecté des espèces protégées sur des sites menacés. ►Les pionnières de la culture Marjorie Bertin nous raconte le destin Ma Rainey (1886-1939) surnommée «la mère du blues». Celle qui propagea cette musique, alors naissante, sur les routes de l'Amérique, fut aussi une femme qui chanta ouvertement son homosexualité à une époque où cette dernière était considérée comme un crime. ► Playlist du jour -Saint Levant - Wazira -Yamê - Solo

In this episode, we dive back into the film Sinners, not just as a movie, but as a cultural reckoning. We're breaking down how the film tells a deeper story about Black American folklife, Blues culture, and the enduring legacy of Blues People. This time, we're not just exploring themes; we're getting into the characters, the plot, and the ways they reveal the real-life struggle between tradition and transformation.Rather than just reviewing the film, we're asking why Sinners matters. It's not just entertainment, it's a bold statement about what it means to be a Blues person in a world where survival, spirituality, and cultural memory are constantly tested. We'll explore how the film reflects critical ideas like Blues Ecology, Clyde Woods' Development Arrested, and the legacy of the Plantation Complex. We'll also look at how the film's portrayal of Black womanhood, feminism, and colorism challenges or reinforces cultural narratives.Big Bill Broonzy's legacy will be front and center as we examine how his words and music resonate with the film's themes. As Broonzy once said, “They don't like the idea of hearing the old original way it went because it's said to carry them back to the horse and buggy days, and slavery time, and they don't want to think about that.” Just like his music, Sinners forces us to confront the past and ask hard questions about what's been lost and what survives, and how Ryan Cooger brings to life this visual story of Blues People, Blues Folk Belief, and Blues Culture of the time!We'll also dig into the cultural intersections of the Mississippi Delta, how Irish, Chinese, Black, and Afro-Indigenous communities shaped the Blues tradition. And we'll make connections to other cultural works like August Wilson's plays, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, and Crossroads, exploring how each handles the intersection of performance, truth, and storytelling.To break it all down, I'm joined by Dr. Langston Collin Wilkins and Dr. Elisha Oliver, whose insights into Black folklore and cultural memory will help us unpack the film's deeper layers.This episode isn't just a conversation; it's a call to think critically about how Black life and Blues culture are represented and remembered. Tune in for a cultural reckoning where the Blues itself gets to testify.

Enjoy this special Mother's Day Sunday release of our new episode, Big Mamas Of The Blues! Markus and Ray dig into two great mamas; Ma Rainey in the first half, and Big Mama Thornton after the break! Both had key influences on the roots of the Blues and on women looking for singing heroes in the history books! Listen to here their influence on different branches of Rock n' Roll tree! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Enjoy this special Mother's Day Sunday release of our new episode, Big Mamas Of The Blues! Markus and Ray dig into two great mamas; Ma Rainey in the first half, and Big Mama Thornton after the break! Both had key influences on the roots of the Blues and on women looking for singing heroes in the history books! Listen to here their influence on different branches of Rock n' Roll tree! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On the April 26 edition of Music History Today, Studio 54 opens, the Count passes away, & the Band waltzes for the last time. Also, happy birthday to T-Boz & Ma Rainey.   For more music history, subscribe to my Spotify Channel or subscribe to the audio version of my music history podcasts, wherever you get your podcasts fromALL MUSIC HISTORY TODAY  PODCAST NETWORK LINKS - https://allmylinks.com/musichistorytodayResources for mental health issues - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lineshttps://findahelpline.com

The blues is more than just music—it's history, it's storytelling, and it's the soul of Black American life. In this compelling live broadcast, we explore Writing the Blues—the ways Black authors, poets, and filmmakers have infused their works with the rhythm, pain, resilience, and triumph of the blues.From Langston Hughes' poetic blues verses to Alice Walker's deeply emotional narratives, from August Wilson's stage masterpieces to period-piece films that use the blues as a backdrop, this discussion uncovers how Black storytelling in literature and cinema keeps the essence of the blues alive.Join us as we break down the themes of struggle, survival, love, and liberation found in both historical and contemporary works. We'll examine films like The Color Purple, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, Ray, and Down in the Delta, alongside the written works of W.E.B. Du Bois, Zora Neale Hurston, and more.How does the blues shape Black narratives? How do these stories continue to evolve while honoring the legacy of the blues? Let's dive into these questions together in an insightful, thought-provoking, and culturally rich discussion.

In this episode, Anna & Amanda dive deep into the story of Gertrude 'Ma' Rainey, the Mother of the Blues. Born and raised in Alabama, she first took to the stage around the age of 12 and never looked back. Over the course of her nearly 40-year career Ma Rainey subverted every expectation with style and changed the face of American music. In this episode you'll discover: ✅ How Ma Rainey got her name ✅ Who once said that "after performing and working with Ma Rainey there was nowhere to go but to the Lord" ✅ Why Bessie Smith once had to bail Ma Rainey out of jail  This is Queer History Done Right.  The Brister English Project: https://bristerep.org/   More about Amanda & Yesterqueers Yesterqueers founder Amanda W. Timpson (she/her) is an accidental public historian, a former television executive, and a Carrie Fisher-inspired sass factory who is passionate about exploring and celebrating the broad expanse of queer history. As the descendent of a long line of writers and raconteurs (and more than a few skilled bullshit artists), storytelling is part of Amanda's DNA. She believes that restorative storytelling is our most powerful tool for connection, understanding, and change. Follow her across social media @yesterqueers.   Learn more about Yesterqueers here, https://yesterqueers.com  

Frizz and Bob set sail into the wild world of country music as we take on The Chicks and their decades-long journey of reinvention, rebellion, and resilience. Frizz pours a smoky Longrow Peated Campbeltown Single Malt, while Bob sips on the classic Very Old Barton, and we break down the band that went from bluegrass darlings to the most controversial voices in country. We give the details on their latest album Gaslighter- from fiddle-driven twang to pop-country domination, from standing up to Sony to standing against a war, from hunky Texas men to internet sleuthing for the tea- we explore how The Chicks became legends, and why they refuse to back down.

This week we're diving into some tough but necessary conversations. Iowa just became the first state to strip gender identity from its civil rights law, and the Pentagon is actively targeting trans service members, forcing them out of the military. But in the face of these attacks, we also have stories of resilience—like a major lawsuit challenging Trump's executive orders and my exciting new role as the newsletter coordinator for BLACKlines, keeping Black LGBTQ+ stories alive. Plus, we celebrate Black queer excellence at the Oscars and dive into a powerful queer women's history series. Let's get into it!  

Jackson and Jacob discuss August Wilson's musical, volatile play Ma Rainey's Black Bottom. Listen in as they explore how Wilson masterfully links to characters, comparing and contrasting their interactions with an unjust world.  ------------------------------ Check out these other conversations on Ma Rainey's Black Bottom:  George C Wolfe discusses the film: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H6qEaTW3L58 MoMA interviews the cast of the film: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NW_ZksDkQME Gavin Dillon Lawrence, the director of the APT production: https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=485203414230728 Ron OJ Parson, director of the Writer's Theatre production: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1RgtThg3z74 ------------------------------ Please consider supporting us on Patreon. For as low as $1/month, you can help to ensure the No Script Podcast can continue.  https://www.patreon.com/noscriptpodcast  ----------------------------- We want to keep the conversation going! Have you read this play? Have you seen it? Comment and tell us your favorite themes, characters, plot points, etc. Did we get something wrong? Let us know. We'd love to hear from you. Find us on social media at:  Email: noscriptpodcast@gmail.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/No-Script-The-Podcast-1675491925872541/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noscriptpodcast/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/noscriptpodcast/ ------------------------------ Thanks so much for listening! We'll see you next week.

In celebration of Black History Month in February, MPR News is highlighting Black history throughout the state. From a fur trader believed to be one of the first African descendants in territory that is now Minnesota, to streets and parks renamed in 2024 after Black community leaders, these sites span the state and the centuries. Click to explore Black history sites throughout the stateSouthern Minnesotagibbs divGibbs Elementary School, RochesterGibbs Elementary School in Rochester is named after George W. Gibbs Jr., the first known Black person to set foot in Antarctica.Gibbs was serving in the U.S. Navy when he sailed to the continent as a member of Rear Admiral Richard E. Byrd's third expedition.In January 1940, after almost 40 days at sea on the U.S.S. Bear, he was the first person to step off the ship.Gibbs moved to Rochester and became a civil rights activist and small business owner. He spent almost 20 years working at IBM, co-founded the Rochester Chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, or NAACP, and founded an employment agency he operated until 1999.— Alex Haddon, radio reporter interndiv rushfordUnderground RailroadAlthough not much is known about Minnesota's role in the Underground Railroad due to its secrecy, the Rushford Area Historical Society believes the city was part of the network to help enslaved people to freedom. The area was home to abolitionists at the time and is about 16 miles from the Mississippi River, an escape route north to Canada. Secret rooms have been discovered in at least three homes in Rushford, which are all currently private residences. One home was built in 1859 for abolitionists George and Harriet Stevens and is thought to be a safe house in the 1860s. In a different house, a secret room was found downstairs after the flood of 2007. It's an 18-room, two-story house built in 1861 for Roswell and George Valentine. It is on the National Register of Historic Places.A third home was built in 1867 for Miles Carpenter, an early Rushford banker, and is also thought to be a safe house. The Rushford Area Historical Society also believes limestone caves were used to hide people escaping to freedom. — Lisa Ryan, editorCentral Minnesotadiv msrMinnesota Spokesman-Recorder, MinneapolisAs the oldest Black-owned newspaper and one of the longest standing family-owned newspapers in the country, the Minnesota Spokesman-Recorder is a point of pride in the Twin Cities. The paper was started in August 1934 by civil rights activist Cecil E. Newman with a split publication: the Minneapolis Spokesman and the St. Paul Recorder. In its first issue, Newman made a prediction and promise to readers, writing, “We feel sure St. Paul and Minneapolis will have real champions of the Race.” Today, Newman's granddaughter Tracey Williams-Dillard serves as the CEO and publisher for MSR and continues the paper that has been a trusted news source in the Black community for almost a century. As a weekly paper, MSR has tackled topics like local Ku Klux Klan activities, Brown v. Board of Education, the Civil Rights Movement, Minneapolis' first Black woman mayor, and George Floyd's murder. In 2015, its building at 3744 4th Ave. in Minneapolis became a state historic landmark.— Kyra Miles, early education reporterdiv penumbraPenumbra Theatre, St. PaulFounded in 1976, Penumbra Theatre was created by Lou Bellamy. Over the years, Penumbra has had the distinction of being the only Black professional theater in Minnesota. The name Penumbra means “half-light” or “partial eclipse.” It was founded using a Comprehensive Employment Training Act grant from the federal government. Its first production, Steve Carter's “Eden,” explored diversity of ethnicities within the African American community. In a 1977 interview with MPR News, Bellamy described the theater as being inadvertently political, with its focus on giving Black actors opportunities to perform at the professional level.  “The roles that you generally see — and it's because of the people who choose the shows — are waiters, butlers, things that if not debilitating, at least are not allowing them to show the extent of their capability,” Bellamy said.Penumbra has had a number of company members that are recognizable, both locally and nationally. Perhaps its most famous alumnus is playwright August Wilson, who developed some of his earliest plays at Penumbra. In a 2023 interview, Bellamy noted that the character Levee in “Ma Rainey's Black Bottom” was influenced by his brother Terry's portrayal in early readings. In 2021, under the direction of Lou's daughter Sarah Bellamy, the theater received a $5 million grant to build on its work in racial equality. — Jacob Aloi, arts reporter and newscasterdiv leeArthur and Edith Lee House, Minneapolis In June 1931, Arthur and Edith Lee, a Black couple, purchased the modest craftsman-style home in Minneapolis' Field neighborhood and moved into the predominantly white neighborhood with their young daughter, Mary.Several years earlier, property owners in the area signed a contract with the neighborhood association to not sell or rent their homes to anyone who wasn't white.When the Lees moved in, community members tried to force them out.Their home became the site of an urban riot in July 1931, when an angry mob of 4,000 white people gathered in their yard and spilled out onto the street, demanding the family leave the neighborhood.A U.S. postal worker, World War I veteran and NAACP member, Arthur Lee said he had a “right to establish a home” in the neighborhood of his choosing.Many individuals and organizations came to the family's defense, including local and national chapters of the NAACP and the prominent civil rights attorney, Lena Olive Smith. (see Lena O. Smith House below)The Lees stayed in their home until the fall of 1933. According to the National Register of Historic Places Registration Form, the family slept in the basement because of safety concerns, and their daughter Mary was escorted to kindergarten by the police.The Arthur and Edith Lee House became a designated historic property in Minneapolis in 2014.The Lee protests remain some of the largest and most widely publicized race-related demonstrations in Minnesota's history. The city of Minneapolis' local historic landmark designation similarly finds the Arthur and Edith Lee House to be associated “with broad patterns of social history, particularly in regard to African American history in Minneapolis, race relations and historical trends of housing discrimination.”— Erica Zurek, senior health reporterdiv floydGeorge Floyd Square, Minneapolis On May 25, 2020, former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin murdered George Floyd outside of a convenience store at the intersection of 38th Street and Chicago Avenue on the south side of Minneapolis. The community transformed the intersection into a memorial and protest site. It's also become a point of contention over how to remember Floyd's murder and the protest movement that started here. Local protesters maintain that the site should be community-led, until the city meets a list of demands for justice. For a year after Floyd's murder, protesters kept the streets closed to traffic; city workers took down the barricades in 2021. Now, the city is locked in an ongoing debate over the square's future. City officials say the streets are overdue for reconstruction. They're pushing for a plan to rebuild the intersection, supported by some local residents and businesses on the block. But local activists, who still maintain the ongoing protest, say it's too soon for the city to take a role in the street design. Instead, they say they want the city to invest in neighborhood services, like housing and substance abuse programs.— Estelle Timar-Wilcox, general assignment reporterdiv hiawathaHiawatha Golf Course, MinneapolisAt a time when African American golfers were barred from participating in white-only tournaments and golf courses, the Hiawatha Golf Course became a popular gathering spot for Black golfers.The course opened in 1934 in south Minneapolis, and was the spot, a few years later, where African American golfer James “Jimmie” Slemmons created what's now the Upper Midwest Bronze Amateur Memorial — a tournament that welcomed Black golfers.Despite being a popular course for African Americans, the Hiawatha Golf Course clubhouse barred non-white golfers from entering. That is until 1952, when that rule ended, largely because of the efforts of golf legend and trailblazer Solomon Hughes Sr.“Hughes was an excellent golfer, recognized nationwide, yet still could not golf at white golf courses, which is why Hiawatha golf course is so important to us,” said Greg McMoore, a long-time south Minneapolis resident and historian.Although once only allowed to play with the United Golfer's Association, a league formed by Black golfers, Hughes was among the first Black golfers to tee off in a PGA event at the 1952 St. Paul Open.In 2022, the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board officially named the clubhouse the Solomon Hughes Clubhouse. The golf course was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2023.— Cari Spencer, reporterdiv smithLena O. Smith House, MinneapolisCivil rights leader and trailblazing attorney Lena O. Smith lived in this Minneapolis home on 3905 Fifth Ave. S. While working in real estate, Smith witnessed up close the discriminatory practices that excluded Black families from certain neighborhoods of the city. She took that experience to law school and in 1921 became the first Black woman to practice law in the state of Minnesota.As an attorney, Smith took on several high-profile cases fighting segregation and defending the rights of Black residents of Minneapolis. She worked to desegregate spaces in the city including the Pantages Theatre and protected a Black family from a campaign to oust them from their home in a mostly white neighborhood of south Minneapolis. (see Arthur and Edith Lee House, above)Smith founded the Minneapolis Urban League and led the local chapter of the NAACP as its first woman president. She worked inside and outside of the courtroom to advance civil rights until her death in 1966. Her home was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1991. — Alanna Elder, producerdiv spiral‘Spiral for Justice' memorial, St. PaulOn the south lawn of the State Capitol grounds is the ‘Spiral for Justice' memorial for Roy Wilkins.Wilkins, who grew up in St. Paul's Rondo neighborhood, was a civil rights leader. He worked in various roles at the NAACP from 1931 to1977, leading the organization for 22 years.The memorial has 46 elements that are positioned in a spiral, getting higher and higher as they extend out from the middle and out beyond two walls that surround the main parts of the sculpture. Each element represents a year of his work at the NAACP, and the elements breaking through the wall represent progress breaking through barriers of racial inequality. The memorial, designed by sculptor Curtis Patterson, was dedicated in 1995.— Peter Cox, reporter div wigingtonClarence Wigington, St. PaulThe Highland Park Water Tower was designed by Clarence “Cap” Wigington, the first African American municipal architect in the United States.Wigington designed or supervised the creation of over 130 buildings throughout his decades-long career, with most located in St. Paul and designed during his tenure at the city architect's office between 1915 and 1949.He designed a number of city projects including fire stations and park buildings, as well as ice palaces for the St. Paul Winter Carnival. (He also designed my old stomping grounds, Chelsea Heights Elementary School, and an addition to my alma mater Murray Middle School.)Some of his other landmark structures include the Harriet Island Pavilion (since renamed after him), Roy Wilkins auditorium and the Holman Field Administration building at the St. Paul Downtown Airport.The Highland Park Water Tower, built in 1928, is one of three Wigington structures listed in the National Register of Historic Places. The others are the Harriet Island Pavilion and the Holman Field Administration building.— Feven Gerezgiher, reporter and producerNorthern Minnesotadiv gomerStatue of Tuskegee Airman Joe Gomer, DuluthA statue in the Duluth International Airport terminal honors a Minnesotan who was a member of the famed Tuskegee Airmen during World War II.Joe Gomer was among the country's first Black fighter pilots, flying 68 combat missions in Europe. He and his fellow Tuskegee Airmen were tasked with protecting bombers from German fighters. The unit's success helped the push to end segregation in the U.S. military.Gomer stayed in the military after the war and later worked for the U.S. Forest Service in Minnesota. He lived in Duluth for 50 years and stayed active into his 90s. The Duluth News Tribune reported that Gomer shared the history of the Tuskegee Airmen and talked about the importance of education with school groups.Veterans' groups in Duluth worked to raise money for the statue to honor Gomer's service to his country; it was dedicated at the airport in 2012, on Gomer's 92nd birthday. Gomer died the following year at age 93; he was Minnesota's last living Tuskegee Airman.— Andrew Krueger, editordiv mosleyHattie Mosley, HibbingIn 1905, 23-year-old Hattie Mosley moved from Decatur, Ill., to the up-and-coming mining town of Hibbing, Minn. Twelve years prior, the town was established by a German miner. At the time, 50 percent of Hibbing residents were born in a foreign country. Yet Mosley, a Black woman, remained a minority, as it was still uncommon for Black people to live in northern Minnesota as long-term residents. This is according to history expert Aaron Brown, who was featured in an Almanac interview with Twin Cities Public Television about the resident. Mosley came to Hibbing as a widow, and did not have any children. She spent the next 30 years as a single woman caring for the mining town as its residents faced the Spanish Flu, the effects of World War I and other daily ailments. She often volunteered in poor immigrant communities and checked in on the sick, using her homemade cough syrup and homemade remedies to nurse most of the town back to health.She was known to help with the worst cases other medical professionals wouldn't dare to touch, including the most severe quarantined cases of the Spanish Flu. Because of this, she is described as a heroine and often called the Florence Nightingale of Hibbing, according to Brown.She died in 1938 and is buried in Maple Hill Cemetery. The beloved nurse and midwife's obituary said her greatest joy in life was helping those who could not afford care. “Her acts of charity, so freely given, numbered a legion and among the poor her death will be keenly felt,” read her obituary in the Hibbing Daily Tribune.Mosley was elected to the Hibbing Historical Society's Hall of Service and Achievement a decade ago.— Sam Stroozas, digital producerdiv st markSt. Mark AME, DuluthSt. Mark African Methodist Episcopal Church is in the Central Hillside area of Duluth. The church was built in 1900 and was added to the National Register in 1991. W. E. B. DuBois spoke at St. Mark in 1921 before a gathering of the Duluth chapter of the NAACP, which had recently been founded after the lynching of three Black men in downtown Duluth. DuBois founded the national organization in 1909.— Regina Medina, reporterdiv bonga pembinaFort Pembina, near present-day Pembina, N.D.Pierre Bonga and his family are well known in Minnesota's early Black history, before it was even a state. His son George Bonga was one of the first Black people born in what later became the state of Minnesota, according to MNopedia. George was born in the Northwest Territory around 1802, near present-day Duluth. His mother was Ojibwe, as were the two women he married in his lifetime. George was a guide and translator for negotiations with the Ojibwe for Territorial Governor Lewis Cass. While the Bonga family has connections to many locations in present-day Minnesota and the Great Lakes region, they spent time in Fort Pembina, according to the University of North Dakota. Pierre Bonga was also a trapper and interpreter. He primarily worked near the Red River, as well as near Lake Superior. He died in 1831, in what is now Minnesota. — Lisa Ryan, editorClick here.

This week on the season premiere of And the Runner-Up Is, Kevin welcomes back AwardsWatch executive editor Ryan McQuade to discuss the 2020 Oscar race for Best Actress, where Frances McDormand won for her performance in "Nomadland," beating Viola Davis in "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom," Andra Day in "The United States vs. Billie Holiday," Vanessa Kirby in "Pieces of a Woman," and Carey Mulligan in "Promising Young Woman." We discuss all of these nominated performances and determine who we think was the runner-up to McDormand. 0:00 - 18:16 - Introduction 18:17 - 41:42 - Viola Davis 41:43 - 1:11:28 - Andra Day 1:11:29 - 1:35:05 - Vanessa Kirby 1:35:06 - 2:02:24 - Carey Mulligan 2:02:25 - 2:26:37 - Frances McDormand 2:26:38 - 3:31:07 - Why Frances McDormand won / listener questions 3:31:07 - 3:39:45 - Who was the runner-up? Buy And the Runner-Up Is merch at https://www.teepublic.com/stores/and-the-runner-up-is?ref_id=24261! Support And the Runner-Up Is on Patreon at patreon.com/andtherunnerupis! Follow And the Runner-Up Is on Twitter, Instagram, and Bluesky Theme/End Music: "Diamonds" by Iouri Sazonov Additional Music: "Storming Cinema Ident" by Edward Blakeley Artwork: Brian O'Meara

In part two of our conversation about A COMPLETE UNKNOWN, The Boston Sisters (Michon and Taquiena) talk with award winning poet, literary activist and author E. Ethelbert Miller about bringing Bob Dylan's writing into the classroom, and the artist as a witness to history. A COMPLETE UKNOWN is the recent Academy Award-nominated biopic about musician, songwriter Bob Dylan, based on the book by Elijah Wald “Dylan Goes Electric: Newport, Seeger, Dylan, And The Night That Split The Sixties.” Directed by James Mangold, who co wrote the screenplay with Jay Cox, A COMPLETE UNKNOWN, is set against the backdrop of a time of dramatic social, cultural and political change (1961-1965) as a vibrant music scene is happening in New York City. Nineteen-year-old Bob Dylan, portrayed by Timothée Chalamet, arrives in New York from Minnesota with his guitar and revolutionary talent, destined to change the course of American music.  Episode 65 is part 2 of a 2-part conversation about A COMPLETE UNKNOWN with E. Ethelbert Miller. Go to this link for Episode 64 (part 1). https://open.spotify.com/episode/3uEnTCokzxIzx0CDWuYeuI?si=0a633d46a8ea4727 SPOILER ALERT - There is some detailed discussion about key moments in the film TIMESTAMPS 00:00 Podcast open, synopsis and historical timeline for the film A COMPLETE UNKNOWN 02:54 - E. Ethelbert Miller's introduction + Spoiler alert 4:39 - The Role of Artists in Social and Political Movements 10:35 - Teaching Memoir Writing with Bob Dylan's Memoir 16:00 - The Impact of Historical Events on Artists and Writers 19:16 - The importance of artists absorbing collective hurt and providing resilience through their work (mentions: Woody Guthrie, Ma Rainey, August Wilson) 19:38 - The Importance of Understanding Historical Context 23:12 - Artists shaping legacies - Ossie Davis's Eulogy for Malcolm X 44:32 - Final Thoughts and Book Recommendations Enjoy our PLAYLIST for this podcast, "⁠Bob Dylan: Known and Unknown,⁠" on Spotify. Help us shape future podcasts. We've created a short survey to learn more about what you enjoy most about “Historical Drama with The Boston Sisters” and what you'd like to see more of in the future. Final date for the survey is February 20, 2025 —----- Keep the Historical Drama momentum going.... SUBSCRIBE to the podcast on your favorite podcast platform ⁠LISTEN⁠ to past past podcasts and bonus episodes ⁠SIGN UP⁠ for our mailing list SUPPORT this podcast ⁠ SHOP THE PODCAST⁠ on our affiliate bookstore Buy us a Coffee! You can support the podcast by buying a coffee ☕ here — ⁠buymeacoffee.com/historicaldramasisters⁠ Thank you for listening!

One of the most curious and complicated characters on the great American musical landscape is Thomas A. Dorsey.A deeply religious man, Dorsey often is called “the father of gospel music,” because he inspired a movement that popularized bluesy gospel songs in churches across America starting in the mid-20th century.Some 3,000 songs — a third of them gospel — were written by Dorsey in his 90 years, including “Take My Hand, Precious Lord” and “Peace in the Valley.” Now, then, about those other 2,000 songs ….Recording as “Georgia Tom,” Dorsey also was instrumental in the early days of secular blues. With his partner “Tampa Red,” he helped popularize the sexy, happy hokum music of the 1920s and ‘30s with tunes like “Somebody's Been Using That Thing,” “Dead Cat on the Line.” and “The Duck — Yas, Yas, Yas.”In the Beginning….Born in the rural Georgia town of Villa Rica, Dorsey grew up in a religious family, but gained most of his musical experience playing blues piano at barrelhouses and rowdy parties in and around Atlanta, where the family moved when Thomas was eight years old. As a young man, Dorsey began attending vaudeville theater shows that featured blues musicians, with whom he informally studied. Despite being meagerly compensated for his efforts, Thomas played at rent parties, house parties and brothels.Seeking a greater challenge, in 1919 Dorsey moved to Chicago, where he discovered that his brand of playing was unfashionable compared to jazz's newer uptempo styles. Faced with more competition for jobs, Dorsey turned to composing. In 1920 he published his first piece, called "If You Don't Believe I'm Leaving, You Can Count the Days I'm Gone,” making him one of the first musicians to copyright blues music.Dorsey also copyrighted his first religious piece in 1922 (a song called “If I Don't Get There"), but he quickly found that sacred music could not financially sustain him, at least not in the Roarin' Twenties, so he continued working the dives and playing the blues.Enter Ma RaineyDorsey's big break came in 1923 when he was hired as the pianist and leader of The Wild Cats Jazz Band accompanying Ma Rainey, a charismatic and bawdy blues shouter who by then had been performing professionally for 20 years.When Rainey and The Wild Cats opened at Chicago's largest black theater, Dorsey remembered the night as "the most exciting moment in my life,” according to his biographer Michael W. Harris.Dorsey worked with Rainey and her band for two years, composing and arranging her music in the blues style as well as vaudeville and jazz to please audiences' tastes. Often at his side was a new member of the band, Hudson “Tampa Red” Whitaker, a blues guitarist who in 1928 would become Dorsey's recording partner for five years.Rainey enjoyed enormous popularity touring with her hectic schedule, singing about lost loves and hard times. She interacted with her audiences, who were often so enthralled they stood up and shouted back at her while she sang.But Dorsey increasingly had misgivings about the suggestive lyrics of the songs he and Red were writing. Finally, Thomas left the tour and tried to market his new sacred music. He printed thousands of copies of his songs to sell directly to churches and publishers, even going door to door, but he still couldn't make it work.About This SongDorsey returned to the blues in 1928, but this time in the recording studios in the persona of “Georgia Tom.” The first Paramount sessions for him and Tampa Red were the last ones for Ma Rainey. In fact, one of the last things the great blues singer ever recorded was this new Thomas Dorsey composition.Nowadays for vinyl collectors, Rainey's “Black Eye Blues” is a rare find. That's because Ma's September 1928 recording of the song wasn't released until July 1930. By then, the Great Depression was raging. Rainey had left the business (retiring to her Columbus, Ga., home). Paramount was ending too; the studio ceased operation in 1932.While audio of the record was later preserved on blues compilation albums (and now on YouTube), the song itself has had a sketchy history. Over the years, the controversial subject matter — domestic violence — has made it uncomfortable for many singers to tackle, especially when dealing with Dorsey's no-compromise lyrics: You low-down alligator, you watch and sooner or later I'm gonna catch you with your britches down!When folkie Judy Henske recorded it in 1964, for instance, her producers at Elektra changed the title to "Low Down Alligator.” Similarly, when Odetta recorded the song two years earlier, she also found the title a bit too much for early 1960s sensibilities. On the Riverside label, instead of “Black Eye Blues,” the song was listed as “Hogan's Alley,” based on Dorsey's opening line (Down in Hogan's Alley lived Miss Nancy Ann….)Hogan's AlleyWhich raises a question. Where is “Hogan's Alley,” anyway?Many cities (from Vancouver to Virginia) have one, but historian Robert Lewis Miesen writes, “Rather than being the name of a person, ‘Hogan's Alley' was a derogatory 19th century label, much as one might use ‘skid row,' ‘ghetto' or ‘hood' today.”He noted that in the same spirit back in 1895, artist Richard F. Outcault — father of the modern comic strip — placed his “Yellow Kid” character in his “Hogan's Alley” cartoons, which appeared weekly in The New York World, starring rambunctious slum kids in the streets.Our Take on the TuneMeanwhile in Floodlandia, when the whole band can't get together — like last week, when it was just Danny, Randy and Charlie — it's an opportunity to lay back and explore tunes not usually on the practice list.In Flood years, this song dates back nearly a half century, to when the fellows were first starting to fool with the hokum tunes of the 1920s and ‘30s.Here's “Black Eye Blues” from last week's gathering. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit 1937flood.substack.com

On the December 22 edition of the Music History Today podcast, Joe Cocker, Ma Rainey, & Joe Strummer pass away, Nikki Sixx nearly passes away, & happy birthday to DJ Paulette & Jordin Sparks For more music history, subscribe to my Spotify Channel or subscribe to the audio version of my music history podcasts, wherever you get your podcasts from ALL MUSIC HISTORY TODAY PODCAST NETWORK LINKS - https://allmylinks.com/musichistorytoday --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/musichistorytodaypodcast/support

In this episode, Eric sits down with award winning actress, director and art patron Phylicia Rashad. They discuss her experience of growing up in Houston, Texas during legal segregation, travels with her Family as a young girl. Her early exposure to art through her mother's many interests and love for art. Her experience of studying Theater at Howard University during a time of social upheaval. Moving to New York City, acting in plays and performing on Broadway, breaking into the entertainment industry... to eventually acting in Television shows including The Cosby Show, where she played the beloved role of Clair Huxtable and Films including CREED I, II, & III and The Beekeeper. They explore how she first discovered her love for acting and cultivated her craft, the support she had from her parents to pursue a career in the arts, evolving as a performer and working in different mediums... including her passion for directing plays!    ...To now serving as Dean of the Chadwick A. Boseman College of Fine Arts at Howard University — where she's enjoying her role and commitment to 'presenting windows of access and opportunity'. They explore the role that James Porter played during his time at Howard. His devotion to the Art department and art history. Howard University's extensive collection of African American art and how the students live amongst the art. They explore her own personal collection of visual art. Stifling of human creativity as being deliberate and the role of and necessity of creativity and freedom to explore creativity for human development.  Publishing her Mother's book of poetry and reviving her mother's work at Brainerd Institute Heritage of educational and cultural practices; promoting literacy through the arts for pre-school children...!  Guest Bio: An accomplished actor and stage director, Phylicia Rashad became a household name when she portrayed Claire Huxtable on The Cosby Show, a character whose enduring appeal has earned her numerous honors and awards. She has appeared in NBC's This Is Us, in the popular Fox TV series Empire, and in Tarrell Alvin McCraney's Peabody Award-winning series David Makes Man, on the OWN Network. A force on the stage; appearing both on and Off Broadway, often in projects that showcase her musical talent such as Jelly's Last Jam, Into the Woods, Dreamgirls and The Wiz. In 2016, Rashad was inducted into the Theater Hall of Fame and received both the Drama Desk and the Tony Award for Best Actress in a Play for her riveting performance as Lena Younger in the 2004 Broadway revival of Lorraine Hansberry's A Raisin in The Sun. Among Ms. Rashad's film credits are Creed and Creed II, Just Wright, Tyler Perry's Good Deeds, A Fall From Grace. Ms. Rashad made her critically acclaimed directorial debut at the Seattle Repertory Theater with August Wilson's Gem of the Ocean. She has also directed Stephen Adly Guirgis' Our Lady of 121st Street, The Roommate, Blues for an Alabama Sky, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, Joe Turner's Come and Gone (2014 NAACP Theatre Award for Best Director). Respected in the academic world as well, Ms. Rashad was appointed Dean of the Chadwick A. Boseman College of Fine Arts at Howard University in May of 2021.  Ms. Rashad also holds the distinction of being the first recipient of the Denzel Washington Chair in Theatre at Fordham University. She has received countless esteemed awards including the BET Honors Theatrical Arts Award, Chicago Shakespeare Theatre's Spirit of Shakespeare Award. And serves on several important boards including Brainerd Institute Heritage and DADA, the Debbie Allen Dance Academy. Phylicia Rashad graduated Magna Cum Laude from Howard University and is the mother of two adult children.  For more on Eric's Perspective, visit www.ericsperspective.com

Our: Guest: Heather Alicia Simms (Actor/Educator ) Follow/Contact IG: @bkjamchild X: @HeatherASimms __ __ Our: Guest: Heather Alicia Simms (Actor/Educator ) IG: @bkjamchild X: @HeatherASimms__Heather Alicia Simms is a multifaceted talent, renowned for her compelling performances on stage, screen, and in voiceover. Raised in Brooklyn, New York, she is a trailblazer, being the first in her Jamaican family to be born in the United States. Her journey through the public school system ignited her passion for the arts, leading to a dynamic career spanning theater, film, and television. Heather's theatrical prowess has graced both Broadway and acclaimed off-Broadway productions. Notably, she captivated audiences in Theater for a New Audience's "Des Moines" and Soho Rep's Pulitzer Prize-winning production, "Fairview," earning accolades for her role. Under Lynn Nottage's residency at The Signature Theatre, Heather delivered powerful performances in "Fabulation" and "By The Way, Meet Vera Stark," winning a prestigious 2019 Obie Award. --Simms has appeared in a number of Broadway and Off-Broadway productions, including Ma Rainey's Black Bottom , A Raisin in the Sun and Gem of the Ocean. Her film credits includes Broken Flowers (2005), The Nanny Diaries (2007), and The Light of the Moon. She also provided voice acting for All the Beautiful Things, Red Dead Revolver, Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, Grand Theft Auto: The Ballad of Gay Tony and Mafia III. Simms guest-starred in a number of television series, including Homicide: Life on the Street, Law & Order, Law & Order: Criminal Intent, Third Watch, and The Good Wife. She had recurring roles in the Netflix series Luke Cage in 2018 playing Auntie Ingrid, and in the Oprah Winfrey Network prime time soap opera The Kings of Napa as Yvette King in 2022. —----Join the conversation LiveChat as we raise the questions, give our opinions , and ask you the same questions... --Live Chat with Us Every week... -----Music: Audio Podcast : by Daniel Howse : www.youtube.com/ProfessorSoraMusic ** OneMicNite Theme Song "Chance" & Background Song "Kanye" Host: --Contact/ Follow Marcos on IG/Fb/IMdb/Twitter/TikTok: @MarcosLuis and www.MarcosLuis.com —Show: OneMicNite Podcast with Marcos Luis *Contact/Follow: IG/Fb/Twitter/Tumbler/LinkedIn/Youtube/TikTok @OneMicNite www.OneMicnite.com - - ** Listen to Audio Podcast: Available wherever you download , all digital platforms.. ** Support Us Now: http:www.Anchor.fm/onemicnitetalk ---Follow/Contact -- The Show: All Social Media Fb/Ig/Twitter/Tumbler/TikTok/ *** watch the episodes on Youtube @OneMicNite & www.OneMicNite.com ****Please Support this Podcast: PayPal/ Zell Pay: MarcosStarActor@gmail.com Venmo @ Marcoso-Luis-1 CashApp : $MarcosLuis1 Please Visit: The AzulesEn Online store to find Products that Compliment your Lifestyle: Link : https://azulesen.myshopify.com/products/onemicnite-signature-logo-unisex-talk-live-pod-tee --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/onemicnite/support

Listen along as we discuss Netflix's three hundred and twenty-fifth film, the 2020 drama film ‘Ma Rainey's Black Bottom' directed by George C. Wolfe starring Viola Davis, Chadwick Boseman, Glynn Turman, Colman Domingo and Michael Potts.    Please follow us at Flix Forum on Facebook or @flixforum on X (Twitter) and Instagram and answer our question for the episode, 'Ma says ‘only black people understand the blues'. Is this true?'   You can listen to us on Apple Podcasts, Spotify and Podbean so please subscribe and drop us a review or 5 star rating.    If you're interested in what else we are watching, head on over to our Letterboxd profiles; Jesse  MJ   We also have our own Flix Forum Letterboxd page! Links to all our past episodes and episode ratings can be found there by clicking here.    Next week we have 'The Midnight Sky', so check out the film before then. You can see the trailer here.   Flix Forum acknowledges the Traditional Owners of the Land we have recorded this podcast on, the Wurundjeri and Bunurong people of the Kulin Nation. We pay our respects to their Elders past, present, emerging and extend that respect to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures. 

Can a musical comedy featuring Hamlet and Nightmare on Elm Street's Freddy Krueger change lives? Actor, playwright, and director Colman Domingo thinks so. In Sing Sing, a new film from A24, Domingo stars in a true story about the power of theater. Inspired by the real-life Rehabilitation through the Arts program at Sing Sing Maximum Security Prison, Sing Sing tells the story of Divine G, played by Domingo, imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit, who finds purpose by acting in a theater group with other incarcerated men. When a wary outsider joins the group, the men decide to stage their first original comedy. Sing Sing stars an ensemble cast of formerly incarcerated actors who are alumni of the RTA program, including Clarence "Divine Eye" Maclin and Sean San José. Domingo takes us behind the scenes of the making of Sing Sing. He also shares how he became an actor after a class at Temple University and his own Shakespeare story including an inventive take on Helena from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Domingo is beloved for onscreen portrayals including Civil Rights activist Bayard Rustin in Netlfix's Rustin for which he received an Oscar nomination for Best Actor. Other films include Lincoln, Selma, If Beale Street Could Talk, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, Zola, and The Color Purple. His breakthrough came as conman Victor Strand on Fear the Walking Dead. He won an Emmy for his performance as Ali on HBO Max's Euphoria. On stage he was nominated for Tony and Olivier awards for his role as Mr. Bones in The Scottsboro Boys. He wrote the book for the Broadway musical Summer: The Donna Summer Musical. Time magazine named him one of the 100 most influential people in the world in 2024. From the Shakespeare Unlimited podcast. Published July 30, 2024. © Folger Shakespeare Library. All rights reserved. This episode was produced by Matt Frassica. Garland Scott is the associate producer. It was edited by Gail Kern Paster. Ben Lauer is the web producer. Leonor Fernandez edits our transcripts. Final mixing services provided by Clean Cuts at Three Seas, Inc.

"The "Dirty Sons of Pitches" are performing yet another directorial double feature and this time the lucky artist is Robert Zemeckis. The guys are revisiting 1992's "Death Becomes Her" as their cult movie of the episode and his follow-up, 1994's "Forrest Gump," as the classic edition. Shocker: both are pretty great and Ben and Nate have the hot take of hot takes for "Gump." Available on Apple and Spotify Check us out at Patreon.com/dirtysonsofpitches Episode 288 includes: -Tom Cruise goes off on crew members about COVID safety and splits the guys down the middle. -Pixar's "Soul" feels a little lacking in that department. -"Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" and "One Night in Miami" are two great ensembles worth your time. -"Wonder Woman 84" doesn't quite soar. -Cult Film -- "Death Becomes Her" (1992) -The dark comedy pitting Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn against one another is a fun, underrated slapsticky dark comedy worth revisiting. -Classic Film -- "Forrest Gump" (1994) -Forget everything you thought you knew about the Best Picture Oscar-winner from 1994. "Forrest Gump" is one of the most subversive, cynical, and ironic movies of recent memory and everyone missed it!//'

Director Gavin Lawrence and actor Lester Perry discuss the 2024 production of August Wilson's Ma Rainey's Black Bottom at American Players Theater in Spring Green, Wisconsin.  Enhance your experience and appreciation by listening to this lively interview before or after your theater visit.

Frizz and Bob wrap up Pride Month by covering 8 of our favorite Pride anthems with a story to tell. Join us with another Old Fo from Whiskey Row as we venture on a musical journey from the 1920s to today, digging into everything from blues and jazz, to Broadway and metal, pop and glam, and ultimately PRIDE!

In this special Pride Month episode, we celebrate the incredible Black queer women who broke barriers and paved the way in the early 1900s. Join me as we delve into the lives of Ma Rainey, the “Mother of the Blues,” who sang openly about her relationships with women; Bessie Smith, the "Empress of the Blues," who lived her life unapologetically bisexual; and Gladys Bentley, the tuxedo-wearing Harlem Renaissance legend who defied gender norms. We also explore the stories of Josephine Baker, the iconic performer and civil rights activist, and Alberta Hunter, the celebrated blues and jazz singer. These trailblazing women faced double oppression but created their own support networks and left an indelible mark on culture and society. Tune in to hear their powerful stories of resilience, courage, and Black queer magic. #PrideMonth #BlackQueerMagic #Trailblazers #LGBTQHistory #BlackHistory #Resilience Love these short history episodes? Leave a review and let me know which historical period or event you'd like me to cover next!

Wonderful article from Charles P. Pierce   Esquire Magazine May 25 Let's get the whole gang together: Davey Moore, Hattie Carroll, Hollis Brown, Einstein disguised as Robin Hood, the motorcycle black Madonna two-wheeled gypsy queen, Ma Rainey, and Beethoven, John the Baptist, the Commander In Chief, Louis The King, Napoleon in rags, Lucille, Johanna, Sweet Marie, John Wesley Harding, St. Augustine, the joker, the thief, Big Jim, Lily, Rosemary, and most of all, the Jack of Hearts, Rubin Carter, Isis, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, Blackjack Davey, Charlie Patton. All of them. Play me a song, Mr. Wolfman Jack, because if you want to remember, you better write down the names. Bob Dylan turned 83 on Friday. All of him did. All of them did. All the personae, the entire kaleidoscope of masks, the false fronts and head fakes, and, finally, the last, and in many ways, best of them all. The travelling storyteller, the seanchai as the people in the old country would call him. Out on the endless tour, up the endless highway. I think of him and I think of Turlough O'Carolan, the legendary blind Irish harper who would travel the countryside, composing his songs on the spot for whomever would give him food and drink. Go back further. Go back to Homer. Sing to him, O muse. When Dylan dropped "Murder Most Foul," virtually out of a clear blue sky, blessing us with it as consolation for the years when America had gone so terribly wrong, it was Homer of whom I thought, poet and historian both, protector of the shadowland between myth and reality, chronicler of what Greil Marcus called "the old, weird America," a phrase I wish I'd written. He'll be around all summer, travelling with Willie Nelson and John Mellencamp and a whole clutch of other artists in something called the Outlaw Music Festival Tour. It's a high-priced extravaganza but, in a very real way, he's just on the road, heading for another joint. Move along, brother Bob. The highway, as you taught us, is for gamblers, and we take what we have gathered from coincidence. Here's a collection of comments and reflections from Dylan's artistic partners and others just sharing the same spaces with Bob. Interviews I've done over the years to be added to when Dylan turns 85. Interviews with David Bowie Robbie Robertson Susan Tedeschi and Derek Trucks The Avett Brothers Barney Bentall and Steve Dawson Greg Keelor (Blue Rodeo) And Colin Linden (Blackie and the Rodeo Kings)   Wine and Dine – Tofino June i/2. The second story takes place next weekend June 1 and 2 in one of Earth's most beautiful places -  Tofino,  British Columbia. The western edge of Canada on Vancouver island. The community includes surfing, golfing, fishing, underwater adventures and an unusual gathering of chefs. It is where they come to learn how to create seafood dishes and cook with what the forest and oceans give them – and surf their minds out.   It's the second annual Wine and Dine gathering on the front lawns of Best Western Plus Tin Wis Resort. All of the details can be found at  www.tofinowinedine.com  Our guests are the organizers and founders  of Tofino Wine & dine Ronnie Lee and Ryan Orr.

Blues icon Ma Rainey, originally Gertrude Pridgett, was born on April 26, 1886. She earned the title "Mother of the Blues" for her pioneering contributions to the genre.  In 1904, she wed comedian William "Pa" Rainey, embarking on a joint tour across the Southern states. It was during these travels that she immersed herself in the blues scene, captivating audiences with her soulful performances as early as 1905.  From 1923 to 1928, Rainey recorded over 100 tracks. Collaborating with luminaries such as Bessie Smith and Louis Armstrong, her influence extended far beyond her own recordings. Rainey's music inspired the likes of Langston Hughes and Sterling Brown, prominent figures of the Harlem Renaissance. Happy heavenly birthday, Ma Rainey. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On this episode of the Friends in Beauty podcast I welcome Matiki Anoff to the Friends in Beauty guest chair. Matiki Anoff, originally from Ghana, West Africa, and raised in the UK, currently resides in New York. As a highly accomplished head makeup designer for major motion pictures and a former Contracted CoverGirl Cosmetic Spokesperson, Matiki boasts an impressive career. A three-time Emmy nominee for Makeup Design excellence, Matiki is a distinguished winner of prestigious awards such as the Hollywood Guild Award, Critic's Choice Award, Hollywood Critic's Association Award, and the BAFTA Award for her outstanding work on "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom." Additionally, she received the Shadow and Acts Behind-the-Scenes RISING Award for excellence behind the camera. Matiki served as the department head for the 2021 Oscar-winning makeup in Netflix's "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" and contributed significantly to Viola Davis' Oscar-winning look for "Fences." Her expertise extends to projects like "The Wiz Live," "The Notebook," "Wolf of Wall St," "8 Mile, "Men in Black," "Spider-Man," and the record-breaking "Wonder Woman 84." With a thirteen-year contract as the HD Specialist Makeup designer of the Emmy-winning Met Opera HD Live, Matiki also added successful projects like "Run the World" for Starz, a biopic for Netflix titled "Beauty," and Denzel Washington's directed epic "A Journal for Jordan," starring Michael B. Jordan. Matiki's extensive celebrity roster includes Viola Davis, Iris Elba, Michael B. Jordan, Oprah Winfrey, Rachel McAdams, Halle Berry, Emily Blunt, Mindy Kaling, Denzel Washington, Don Cheadle, Ethan Hawke, Gwyneth Paltrow, Samuel L. Jackson, Angela Bassett, Heidi Klum, makeup icon Pat McGrath, and an eight-year contract with 15-time Grammy Award-winning artist Eminem. Beyond her impressive career in makeup, Matiki showcased her passion for film and screenwriting by enrolling in The Writer's Boot Camp, producing four full screenplays, two of which have been optioned. She collaborated with director Jeymes Samuels on projects like "The Book of Clarence" and the period epic "Killing Castro," featuring Al Pacino. Matiki's contributions also extend to presenting the Best Cinematographer award at the 1st African Academy Awards in Bayelsa state, Nigeria, and serving as a panelist for "Careers in Entertainment" by the New York City Mayor's Office of Film. Enjoy! Leave us a 5 star review and share this episode with a friend or 2 or 3. info@friendsinbeauty.com ENROLLMENT OPEN - TRAILBLAZERS CLUB MEMBERSHIP https://bit.ly/FIBTrailblazersClub ADVERTISE YOUR BUSINESS OF THE PODCAST https://www.friendsinbeauty.com/advertise ENROLL IN D.I.Y PODCASTER COURSE TODAY:  bit.ly/DIYPodcasterCourse JOIN PATREON TO SUPPORT THE FRIENDS IN BEAUTY PODCAST https://www.patreon.com/friendsinbeauty FRIENDS IN BEAUTY FACEBOOK COMMUNITY www.facebook.com/groups/friendsinbeauty FOLLOW FRIENDS IN BEAUTY ON IG  www.instagram.com/friendsinbeauty SUBSCRIBE TO YOUTUBE CHANNEL bit.ly/FIBTube Additional Resources: -https://www.amazon.com/shop/akuarobinson -Skillshare - Use this link for 2 months free of the premium plan: https://skl.sh/30t352q -Shop Mented Cosmetics - https://www.mentedcosmetics.com/?rfsn=1290937.f2481  Use Code “AKUAROBINSON” for 10% of your purchase  Announcements: We're on Apple Podcasts - www.bit.ly/FIBPodItunes! Join our Facebook community… If  you're looking for a community of like minded, ambitious, and supportive #FriendsinBeauty  all working to leave our mark on the beauty industry, join us here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/friendsinbeauty Join the Friends in Beauty Mailing List: www.bit.ly/FIBTribe Social Media Info: Matiki Anoff  (Instagram) - @matikipromakeup Friends in Beauty (Instagram, Facebook, Twitter) - @friendsinbeauty Friends in Beauty (YouTube) - Friends in Beauty  Akua Robinson (Instagram,Twitter) - @akuarobinson AkuaRobinson (Facebook) - Akua Robinson MUA Akua Robinson (Website) - www.akuarobinson.com

Literacy in a Long Blues Note: Black Women's Literature and Music in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries by Coretta M. Pittman (University Press of Mississippi, 2022) traces the evolution of Black women's literacy practices from 1892 to 1934.  Pittman explores two distinct but related eras of Black women's writing—the Women's Era of the 1890s and early 1900s, and the New Negro Movement of the 1920s and 1930s. Casting a wide net, Pittman analyzes fiction, nonfiction, and dramatic writing by Black women along with songs performed and written by classic blues singers like Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, and Victoria Spivey. This innovative approach allows Pittman to show how women from these two generations approached issues of class, respectability, uplift, and empowerment. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/african-american-studies

Literacy in a Long Blues Note: Black Women's Literature and Music in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries by Coretta M. Pittman (University Press of Mississippi, 2022) traces the evolution of Black women's literacy practices from 1892 to 1934.  Pittman explores two distinct but related eras of Black women's writing—the Women's Era of the 1890s and early 1900s, and the New Negro Movement of the 1920s and 1930s. Casting a wide net, Pittman analyzes fiction, nonfiction, and dramatic writing by Black women along with songs performed and written by classic blues singers like Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, and Victoria Spivey. This innovative approach allows Pittman to show how women from these two generations approached issues of class, respectability, uplift, and empowerment. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Literacy in a Long Blues Note: Black Women's Literature and Music in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries by Coretta M. Pittman (University Press of Mississippi, 2022) traces the evolution of Black women's literacy practices from 1892 to 1934.  Pittman explores two distinct but related eras of Black women's writing—the Women's Era of the 1890s and early 1900s, and the New Negro Movement of the 1920s and 1930s. Casting a wide net, Pittman analyzes fiction, nonfiction, and dramatic writing by Black women along with songs performed and written by classic blues singers like Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, and Victoria Spivey. This innovative approach allows Pittman to show how women from these two generations approached issues of class, respectability, uplift, and empowerment. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

Literacy in a Long Blues Note: Black Women's Literature and Music in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries by Coretta M. Pittman (University Press of Mississippi, 2022) traces the evolution of Black women's literacy practices from 1892 to 1934.  Pittman explores two distinct but related eras of Black women's writing—the Women's Era of the 1890s and early 1900s, and the New Negro Movement of the 1920s and 1930s. Casting a wide net, Pittman analyzes fiction, nonfiction, and dramatic writing by Black women along with songs performed and written by classic blues singers like Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, and Victoria Spivey. This innovative approach allows Pittman to show how women from these two generations approached issues of class, respectability, uplift, and empowerment. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/literary-studies

Literacy in a Long Blues Note: Black Women's Literature and Music in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries by Coretta M. Pittman (University Press of Mississippi, 2022) traces the evolution of Black women's literacy practices from 1892 to 1934.  Pittman explores two distinct but related eras of Black women's writing—the Women's Era of the 1890s and early 1900s, and the New Negro Movement of the 1920s and 1930s. Casting a wide net, Pittman analyzes fiction, nonfiction, and dramatic writing by Black women along with songs performed and written by classic blues singers like Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, and Victoria Spivey. This innovative approach allows Pittman to show how women from these two generations approached issues of class, respectability, uplift, and empowerment. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/american-studies

Literacy in a Long Blues Note: Black Women's Literature and Music in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries by Coretta M. Pittman (University Press of Mississippi, 2022) traces the evolution of Black women's literacy practices from 1892 to 1934.  Pittman explores two distinct but related eras of Black women's writing—the Women's Era of the 1890s and early 1900s, and the New Negro Movement of the 1920s and 1930s. Casting a wide net, Pittman analyzes fiction, nonfiction, and dramatic writing by Black women along with songs performed and written by classic blues singers like Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, and Victoria Spivey. This innovative approach allows Pittman to show how women from these two generations approached issues of class, respectability, uplift, and empowerment. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/music

In this last episode of Season 4, we're going to find out more about the Black female entertainers who lit up the stages of 1920s America: who they were, the (many) struggles they faced, and all the ways they absolutely slayed. We'll meet blues singers like Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith, Ethel Waters, and Mamie Smith, as well as dancers like Josephine Baker. (Content warning: brief discussion of lynching). Want more Exploress while the main feed takes a brief hiatus? I'll be regularly posting bonus episodes over on Patreon. You'll find show notes for this episode at my Exploress website. You can now buy my ladycentric timelines, maps, and art prints at the Exploress shop.  Also, did you know: I've got a novel out! NIGHTBIRDS is a 1920s-tinted fantasy about girls who will gift their magic with a kiss...for a price. I think you might just like it. And the sequel's coming out later this year, so there's never been a better time to dive in.  

In the second part of Jonny's chat with director Dominic Cooke they discuss getting the end of Ma Rainey's Black Bottom wrong, some strategies actors use to avoid being vulnerable, Sophie Okonedo and giving her performance up to the gods, experiencing vulnerability as a director and having to be dragged back to see his own shows, his fears for free expression in young writers right now, his long collaboration with Caryl Churchill- and how Caryl was right in her play Seven Jewish Children. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Join us this week as Bri and special guest Claire Lake tell Cozi about the 2020 drama Ma Rainey's Black Bottom. We dive into the captivating world of 1920s blues music, explore the film's rich characters, and try to convince Cozi why this is a must-see! Recommendations: Bri – Canadian punk band The OBGMS Claire – Posh mud body scrub Cozi – The Holdovers (2023)

To get you in the mood for Valentine's Day, let's indulge in some of the filthiest lyrics ever written. And yes, they are from the 1920s and 30s.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Book Vs. Movie: FencesThe 1987 play Vs. the 2016 movieFor Black History Month, the Margos revisit playwright August Wilson (we covered Ma Rainey's Black Bottom last year.) Fences premiered on Broadway in 1987 and is a part of Wilson's acclaimed Pittsburgh Cycle, also known as the Century Cycle, a series of ten plays that chronicle the African American experience in the United States throughout each decade of the 20th century. This is a play about Troy Maxson, a former Negro League baseball player who now works as a garbage collector. Set in 1950s Pittsburgh, the story explores themes of race, family, generational trauma, and unfulfilled dreams. Troy's desire to build a fence around his yard symbolizes his need to protect his family and his sense of confinement.In this ep, the Margos discuss:The work of August Wilson.The plot of the storyThe differences between the play and the adaptation.The cast of the 2016 film: Denzel Washington ((Troy Maxson,) Viola Davis (Rose Lee Maxson,) Stephen McKinley Henderson (Jim Bono,) Russell Hornsby (Lyons Maxson,) Mykelti Williamson (Gabriel Maxson,) and Saniyya Sidney as Raynel Maxson.Clips used:Fences 2016 trailer“Why don't you like me?” (1987 James Earl Jones & Courtney Vance TONY Awards)“The same spot as you.”“I'm not going to Tray Maxson's funeral.”Music by Marcelo Zarvos.Book Vs. Movie is part of the Frolic Podcast Network. Find more podcasts you will love Frolic.Media/podcasts. Join our Patreon page “Book Vs. Movie podcast”You can find us on Facebook at Book Vs. Movie Podcast GroupFollow us on Twitter @bookversusmovieInstagram: Book Versus Movie https://www.instagram.com/bookversusmovie/Email us at bookversusmoviepodcast@gmail.com Margo D. Twitter @BrooklynMargo Margo D's Blog www.brooklynfitchick.com Margo D's Instagram “Brooklyn Fit Chick”Margo D's TikTok https://www.tiktok.com/@margodonohuebrooklynfitchick@gmail.comYou can buy your copy of Filmed in Brooklyn here! Margo P. Twitter @ShesNachoMamaMargo P's Instagram https://www.instagram.com/shesnachomama/Margo P's Blog https://coloniabook.weebly.com/ Our logo was designed by Madeleine Gainey/Studio 39 Marketing Follow on Instagram @Studio39Marketing & @musicalmadeleine

Book Vs. Movie: FencesThe 1987 play Vs. the 2016 movieFor Black History Month, the Margos revisit playwright August Wilson (we covered Ma Rainey's Black Bottom last year.) Fences premiered on Broadway in 1987 and is a part of Wilson's acclaimed Pittsburgh Cycle, also known as the Century Cycle, a series of ten plays that chronicle the African American experience in the United States throughout each decade of the 20th century. This is a play about Troy Maxson, a former Negro League baseball player who now works as a garbage collector. Set in 1950s Pittsburgh, the story explores themes of race, family, generational trauma, and unfulfilled dreams. Troy's desire to build a fence around his yard symbolizes his need to protect his family and his sense of confinement.In this ep, the Margos discuss:The work of August Wilson.The plot of the storyThe differences between the play and the adaptation.The cast of the 2016 film: Denzel Washington ((Troy Maxson,) Viola Davis (Rose Lee Maxson,) Stephen McKinley Henderson (Jim Bono,) Russell Hornsby (Lyons Maxson,) Mykelti Williamson (Gabriel Maxson,) and Saniyya Sidney as Raynel Maxson.Clips used:Fences 2016 trailer“Why don't you like me?” (1987 James Earl Jones & Courtney Vance TONY Awards)“The same spot as you.”“I'm not going to Tray Maxson's funeral.”Music by Marcelo Zarvos.Book Vs. Movie is part of the Frolic Podcast Network. Find more podcasts you will love Frolic.Media/podcasts. Join our Patreon page “Book Vs. Movie podcast”You can find us on Facebook at Book Vs. Movie Podcast GroupFollow us on Twitter @bookversusmovieInstagram: Book Versus Movie https://www.instagram.com/bookversusmovie/Email us at bookversusmoviepodcast@gmail.com Margo D. Twitter @BrooklynMargo Margo D's Blog www.brooklynfitchick.com Margo D's Instagram “Brooklyn Fit Chick”Margo D's TikTok https://www.tiktok.com/@margodonohuebrooklynfitchick@gmail.comYou can buy your copy of Filmed in Brooklyn here! Margo P. Twitter @ShesNachoMamaMargo P's Instagram https://www.instagram.com/shesnachomama/Margo P's Blog https://coloniabook.weebly.com/ Our logo was designed by Madeleine Gainey/Studio 39 Marketing Follow on Instagram @Studio39Marketing & @musicalmadeleine

Academy Award-winning actress and comedic talent, Mo'Nique, has stirred up the internet waves with a series of bold statements. Recently, she sat down for an engaging conversation on the podcast 'Club Shay Shay.' She did not shy away when she pointed out the differential treatment that exists in Hollywood. It was strongly implied that had her skin color been white, her fame could have been even more pronounced. This highly accomplished entertainer and creative force – Mo'Nique – first gained significant recognition with her powerful performance in a gripping drama, 'Precious,' released in 2009. The deeply impactful role earned her the coveted Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, further solidifying her position in the annals of film and entertainment. The talented actress also carved out her own space on the small screen with 'The Mo'Nique Show,' which aired from 2009 to 2011. This vibrant and energetic talk show showcased her dynamic versatility and allowed audiences to experience her wide range of talents on a regular basis. Apart from her definitive Oscar-winning performance, Mo'Nique has received accolades from different entertainment platforms. She bagged an Emmy nomination for her deeply nuanced representation of the iconic blues singer, Ma Rainey, in the much-lauded HBO biopic, 'Bessie', released in 2015. In addition to her acting endeavors and television presence, Mo'Nique is also a noted name in the world of humor. She was recognized by the Recording Academy in 2002, earning a Grammy nod in the Best Comedy Album category. This nomination was an affirmation of her elasticity as a performer, tapping into her comedic roots. Mo'Nique has also chimed in on the experiences of fellow actresses in the industry. She highlighted the career of actress McCarthy, who featured in CBS's sitcom 'Mike and Molly' for an impressive run of six seasons. McCarthy's talent and persistent hard work were eventually rewarded with an Emmy for Outstanding Actress in a Comedy Series. McCarthy managed to display her talent on the silver screen as well, earning two Academy Award nominations for her roles in films. These include the comedic saga 'Bridesmaids' and the intimate character study 'Can You Ever Forgive Me?' Counterpoints like these offer a stark look at the landscape of awards and recognition within the industry. Mo'Nique didn't hold back in placing her disappointments on record. She mentioned an instance with comedian Kevin Hart where a professional commitment wasn't fulfilled. She expressed her dismay regarding Hart's inability (or choosing not) to collaborate on fresh content, a promise she insists was made to her. Interestingly, this isn't the first time Mo'Nique has publicly pointed to industry unkept promises. Prior to Hart, Mo'Nique had been vocal about her strained relationship with director Tyler Perry. She believes the lack of collaboration stems from this earlier public disagreement. Adding more to the list of her criticisms, Mo'Nique also shared her sentiments regarding the media mogul, Oprah Winfrey. According to Mo'Nique, she experienced a betrayal of trust when Winfrey conducted interviews with her family on sensitive past incidents. Mo'Nique implies that Oprah delved into a deeply personal and traumatic aspect of her past– the alleged sexual abuse she experienced as a child. This was done without any prior consultation or consent, leaving Mo'Nique feeling exposed and betrayed. The dirt that swirled up from this series of revelations has left fans and followers in a cloud of confusion and skepticism. The spotlight has turned ominously onto the shadow cast by these industry titans. It's clear that the entertainment landscape isn't as glossy or radiant as it's often portrayed to be. Despite all these controversies and setbacks, Mo'Nique remains a potent voice in Hollywood. Her willingness to confront, articulate, and expose systemic problems has put her on the radar of many who care deeply about fairness and integrity within the business. Wariness peppered with admiration is a common sentiment when her name is mentioned. As the discourse continues, it undeniably brings about an opportunity for serious reflection within the entertainment industry. By contemplating the veracity and impact of the issues highlighted by Mo'Nique, Hollywood might indeed become more receptive to change, ensuring a more balanced and supportive environment for all artists, irrespective of their background. Real News Now Follow Real News Now on Social Media Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RealNewsNowApp/ X Twitter: https://twitter.com/realnewsapp Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/realnews/ TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@realnewsnowapp Threads: https://www.threads.net/@realnews/ Truth Social: https://truthsocial.com/@RealNews YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/@realnewsnowapp End Wokeness: https://endthewokeness.com/?ref=fbc Video: https://youtu.be/sg5RtTBMci8  See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Au panthéon du blues, dans l'ombre de Robert Johnson, de Ma Rainey, de Muddy Waters et des autres, une silhouette se fait discrète… c'est pourtant un homme né au cœur du Delta du Mississippi, un musicien qui fait le lien entre les générations du blues, quelqu'un qui a, toute sa vie, transmis cette musique. A son doigt, un bottleneck, en bandoulière, sa brillante national duolian. Cet homme, c'est Son House, prêcheur et musicien, adoré et oublié, redécouvert et vénéré. Pour nous raconter son histoire, Olivier Renault est à notre micro, lui qui a écrit une biographie du maitre House parue aux éditions le mot et le reste. Et notre histoire, nous la commençons presque par la fin. Nous sommes en 1964 et trois jeunes hommes, blancs, passionnés de musique, sautent dans une Volkswagen et se lancent, tambour battant, dans un drôle de chasse à l'homme à travers le pays, car ils ont entendu dire qu'une ancienne légende du Delta du Mississippi aurait été aperçue au coin d'une rue… Sujets traités : Son House, Robert Johnson, Ma Rainey, Muddy Waters, Mississippi,musicien,blues Merci pour votre écoute Un Jour dans l'Histoire, c'est également en direct tous les jours de la semaine de 13h15 à 15h sur www.rtbf.be/lapremiere Retrouvez tous les épisodes d'Un Jour dans l'Histoire sur notre plateforme Auvio.be : https://auvio.rtbf.be/emission/5936 Et si vous avez apprécié ce podcast, n'hésitez pas à nous donner des étoiles ou des commentaires, cela nous aide à le faire connaître plus largement.

1931, Grafton. Son House sort des studios, fier d'avoir enregistré ses morceaux pour la première fois sur disque. Fier d'avoir accompagné l'immense Charley Patton dans cette aventure. Son talent, le son unique et métallique de sa guitare, cela devrait le mené au succès. Sauf que … non… La crise de 1929 est passée par là et les disques ne se vendent pas. Son House reprend son travail de conducteur de tracteur, joue avec ses copains, la vie suit son cours… Jusqu'à ce qu'à l'été 1941, un été d'une terrible chaleur, un musicologue bien connu des amoureux du blues, Alan Lomax, se rende dans la région avec son enregistreur. Alan Lomax n'a jamais entendu parler de Son House mais cela va bientôt changer . Sujets traités : Son House , Robert Johnson, Ma Rainey, Muddy Waters, Mississippi,musicien,blues, Charley Patton , guitare, Alan Lomax Merci pour votre écoute Un Jour dans l'Histoire, c'est également en direct tous les jours de la semaine de 13h15 à 15h sur www.rtbf.be/lapremiere Retrouvez tous les épisodes d'Un Jour dans l'Histoire sur notre plateforme Auvio.be : https://auvio.rtbf.be/emission/5936 Et si vous avez apprécié ce podcast, n'hésitez pas à nous donner des étoiles ou des commentaires, cela nous aide à le faire connaître plus largement.

On this episode of the Friends in Beauty podcast I welcome Gregory Bazemore to the Friends in Beauty guest chair. Greg is an Emmy Award winning Hair Stylist and industry veteran. His work has been featured on Pose, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, First Wives Club, and Captain America: The Winter Soldier to name a few.    Greg believes that there are no boundaries that will impede him. He has also excelled as an educator in the field of Cosmetic Artistry. Continuous thinking, planning, and creating, he satisfies a large yet steadily growing clientele, from defining cuts, styles, and colors that span a range from casually chic to devilishly daring, his artistry is certain to be witnessed, not only locally but also globally for many years to come. Greg's work comes from the heart and the creative energy comes through his hands. In the past year, a lot of major life experiences have occurred, and he feels as though even those will influence his work and will encourage him to work even harder. He believes the soft edges of a haircut and the movement of a curl show the sensitive and soft sides of who he is as a designer. The sharp points and the jagged edges of a wave can reveal his sharp wit and his creativity.    The more knowledge that Greg comes across along with the experience of each production has helped to cultivate ideas, open or broaden his vision and approach on a project. He sees incredible beauty and unlimited potential in everything he does.    Enjoy this episode!!   Leave us a 5 star review and share this episode with a friend or 2 or 3. info@friendsinbeauty.com ENROLLMENT OPEN - TRAILBLAZERS CLUB MEMBERSHIP https://bit.ly/FIBTrailblazersClub   ADVERTISE YOUR BUSINESS OF THE PODCAST https://www.friendsinbeauty.com/advertise   ENROLL IN D.I.Y PODCASTER COURSE TODAY:  bit.ly/DIYPodcasterCourse   JOIN PATREON TO SUPPORT THE FRIENDS IN BEAUTY PODCAST https://www.patreon.com/friendsinbeauty   FRIENDS IN BEAUTY FACEBOOK COMMUNITY www.facebook.com/groups/friendsinbeauty   FOLLOW FRIENDS IN BEAUTY ON IG  www.instagram.com/friendsinbeauty   SUBSCRIBE TO YOUTUBE CHANNEL bit.ly/FIBTube Additional Resources:   -https://www.amazon.com/shop/akuarobinson   -Skillshare - Use this link for 2 months free of the premium plan: https://skl.sh/30t352q   -Shop Mented Cosmetics - https://www.mentedcosmetics.com/?rfsn=1290937.f2481  Use Code “AKUAROBINSON” for 10% of your purchase  Announcements:   We're on Apple Podcasts - www.bit.ly/FIBPodItunes!   Join our Facebook community…   If  you're looking for a community of like minded, ambitious, and supportive #FriendsinBeauty  all working to leave our mark on the beauty industry, join us here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/friendsinbeauty Join the Friends in Beauty Mailing List: www.bit.ly/FIBTribe Social Media Info: Greg Bazemore (Instagram) - @greg_bazemore Friends in Beauty (Instagram, Facebook, Twitter) - @friendsinbeauty Friends in Beauty (YouTube) - Friends in Beauty  Akua Robinson (Instagram,Twitter) - @akuarobinson AkuaRobinson (Facebook) - Akua Robinson MUA Akua Robinson (Website) - www.akuarobinson.com

Director and writer George C. Wolfe is our guest on the podcast this week as he chats with Dom Lenoir about re-creating black civil rights marches and moments of American history with his latest award winning film RUSTIN!. George, who has won five Tony Awards, also directed the feature Ma Rainey's Black Bottom discusses: Making a complicated homosexual factual film. Financing through President Obama. Adapting a true story using a mix of documentary techniques. Starting out in Theatre, what to show and not show when adapting for the screen. The screenwriting process and casting the perfect lead. Rustin is out now on NETFLIX! PODCAST MERCH Get your Xmas pressies here with our very own Tees, Hoodies, onset water bottles, mugs and more MERCH. https://my-store-11604768.creator-spring.com/ COURSES Want to learn how to finish your film? Take our POST PRODUCTION COURSE https://cuttingroom.info/post-production-demystified/ PATREON Big thank you to: Serena Gardner Mark Hammett Lee Hutchings Marli J Monroe Karen Newman Want your name in the show notes or some great bonus material on film-making? Join our Patreon for bonus episodes, industry survival guides and feedback on your film projects! SUPPORT THE PODCAST Check out our full episode archive at TheFilmmakersPodcast.com CREDITS The Filmmakers Podcast is hosted, produced, edited and written by Giles Alderson @gilesalderson Logo and Banner Art by Lois Creative  Theme Music by John J. Harvey CONTACT THE PODCAST email us: thefilmmakerspodcast@gmail.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

This week Laura and Vanessa explore two amazing stories in the Season 6 finale. If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to subscribe, rate, & review. Music credit: 'Booze and Blues' by Ma Rainey.

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

Avy Kaufman didn't move to New York City with big screen ambitions, but one thing led to another, and she wound up becoming one of the most successful and prolific casting directors in Hollywood. She cast Leonardo DiCaprio in The Basketball Diaries and Haley Joel Osment in his unforgettable one-two punch, The Sixth Sense and A.I. Artificial Intelligence. She's worked on a number of films with Ang Lee and two films with the legendary Wes Craven, Music of the Heart and Scream 4. If we jump to her most recent credits, the list is loaded with Oscar contenders and winners like Tár, The Eyes of Tammy Faye, King Richard, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, and more.Kaufman's had great success with the series format as well having cast a number of acclaimed Emmy-winning shows, but there's one series in particular that's been an especially significant force during awards season the last few years, a show that will likely go down in history as one of the best shows ever made. It's HBO's Succession.While celebrating her third Emmy nomination for the series, Kaufman took the time to join me for a Collider Ladies Night conversation to revisit some of the key experiences that paved the way to casting Succession. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Today Ledslie talks to Dianah Wynter. Wynter was born and raised in New York. She directed Intimate Betrayal (1999), HappySAD (2009), and Daddy's Girl (1996), for which she received an Emmy nomination. Her stage directing credits include the world premiere of The Interrogation of Nathan Hale at South Coast Rep, Mules at San Francisco's Magic Theatre and American Conservatory Theatre (ACT), the latter starring Anika Noni Rose. She was a regular director for the Mark Taper's New Work Fest, and NEA Director Fellow for The Goodman Theatre. At Princeton, she composed music for Triangle club comedy revues, collaborating with classmates such as Douglas McGrath, David E. Kelley, Eric Schlosser and John Seabrook.A graduate of the Yale school of drama. She was asst director for Lloyd Richards on the world premieres of Ma Rainey's Black Bottom and Fences. She mounted the second company of Fences at Seattle Rep starring Frances Foster and Samuel L. Jackson. Dianah is an author and co-editor of Referentiality and the Films of Woody Allen (Palgrave Macmillan). Her most recent book is The Post Soul Cinema of Kasi Lemmons.In 2019, she was elected Chair of the Cinema & Television Arts department at Cal State Northridge (CSUN), which consistently ranks in the Hollywood Reporters Top 25 film schools. She is the first black woman to head a Top film school. During her term as Chair, she initiated the virtual production initiative, with the support of strategic partner, Halon Entertainment; by 2021, CSUN made it into the top 20 of The Wraps Top 50 Film Schools, breaking in at #17.

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 --

June 12, 1928. The great Blues singer Ma Rainey steps up to the microphone at a studio in Chicago. She's there to record a scandalous song called “Prove It On Me Blues.” It's her answer to the rumor that she'd once attended a party with a bunch of other half-clothed women – a party that got busted by the cops. It's a rumor she doesn't deny. The song is just the latest of Rainey's boundary-pushing moves. Her audience, and her record label, eat it up. How did Ma Rainey talk about sex and sexuality through the Blues? And in the America of that time, how was a boldness like hers even possible?Special thanks to our guests: Darryl Bullock, author of Queer Blues: The Hidden Figures of Early Blues Music, which will be published this July; Dr. Steven Lewis, curator of Music and Performing Arts at the National Museum of African American History and Culture; and Dr. Tyina Steptoe, history professor at the University of Arizona and host of “Soul Stories” on KXCI Tucson. Thanks also to Dr. Cookie Woolner, history professor at the University of Memphis and author of ​​The Famous Lady Lovers: Black Women & Queer Desire Before Stonewall, which will be published in September. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.