21. Southbound

It’s pretty hard to contest the origins of much of the music that is typically considered “American”. The men, women and children of Africa were brought here against their will and forced into the cotton (and other) fields of the south. They were sold on auction blocks and beaten horribly. Their children were taken from them and their wives and daughters were raped. They lived a life of pain. (And now this post will be banned in Florida!) But in that pain they created beauty. They sang their spirituals in the fields which begat the gospel tradition. They met and married other marginalized peoples in the islands on their way over and created afro-caribbean music. They met and married into the Native American cultures and assimilated their rhythms and begat the blues and what became country music. They transformed their native instruments into guitars and banjos. They sang of their pain and their loss. They created beauty. For this they were robbed of freedom, credit and rights for many years. But during those times, men and women like Charlie Patton, Kokomo Arnold, Casey Bill Weldon and Peetie Wheatstraw - drawing on the music of Hawaii and players like Joe Kaipo created the great American slide guitar blues.

That legacy, thankfully, has been kept alive - as we discussed in the last article - by white Americans such as Derek Trucks, Luther Dickinson, Marcus King, Lowell George, Duane Allman, and more. I’m not linking these folks now because I’ll be discussing them in depth over the course of this piece. And there are plenty of fine African American purveyors of slide guitar blues, but I’m focusing on this particular group of people for now.

Today I listened to the first album by The Allman Brothers Band. Formed by the Brothers Duane (21 years old at the time) and Gregg (19 years old), the album sold poorly despite becoming an essential of recorded American music over time. Duane played slide guitar like nobody had ever heard, and young Gregg had the soulful voice of a man thrice his age. Combine that with a second lead guitar and a rhythm section of 2 drummers and a bass player, you had a truly novel take on the blues. Unfortunately the term Southern Rock which the Allmans are considered the grandfathers of, gets a bad rap due to some racist content and imagery - but for the most part this is a reverent form of music harkening back to the blues of the early 1900s. There’s not a musician on this planet, I’d reckon, who does not acknowledge the huge impact that Duane Allman had on music, and the slide guitar in specific.

Listen to songs like It’s Not My Cross To Bear and Dreams written by Gregg when he was less than 20 years old. They show a remarkable maturity and a detail that many songwriters twice his age couldn’t achieve. Under the lights they were mesmerizing as were the more upbeat numbers like Black Hearted Woman and Trouble No More (which was originally performed by the great Muddy Waters in 1955). This is a great album and a fine introduction to the twin guitar rock of the American South.

During the 1970’s, for a kid growing up in New York, there was no better radio station than WLIR. Regularly they would host concerts, both from their own Ultrasonic Studios and elsewhere. These concerts boasted names like Bonnie Raitt, Dr. John, Hall & Oates, Steve Miller, Todd Rundgren and in April of 1973, just prior to the release of their third album, Little Feat.

Little Feat, for a brief time, were the best American rock and roll band - perhaps the best band in the world. They were not a southern rock band - they were from LA, but they seamlessly incorporated the slinky blues and funk of the south with the country music of rural America. Twin lead guitars, including the incredible slide work of Lowell George - who, due to substance abuses, passed on far too early and Paul Barrere - no slouch on the axe himself. Drums, percussion, bass and rollicking barrelhouse piano rounded out this band. They completely fit this post’s narrative about the southern blues - in fact many people think they are from the south.They cover songs by Allen Toussaint, have played with New Orleans’ best, and in general are reverent regarding the music and culture of the southern USA. So maybe it’s a stretch - they aren’t Lynyrd Skynyrd, but - as I said - they fit right in here.

This Ultrasonic Studios concert is - perhaps - the band at the peak of their prowess. They had yet to record and release their best record - Feats Don't Fail Me Now or perhaps the greatest live rock album of all time Waiting For Columbus, but this concert shows them at their raw, funky, greasy best. Performing in an intimate space they tear through a dozen or so tracks ranging from acoustic country trucker songs (Willin’) to New Orleans Soul (On Your Way Down) to the stomping irreverent Apolitical Blues. Along the way, they funk, rock and boogie their way through what would easily be any band's best tracks, all woven through with the nearly spiritual slide work of Mr. George. I haven’t been this blissed out doing this project in quite some time, and neither have the lights. I can tell.. This is a bootleg recording that needs some clean-up and wide release. Little Feat came back to Ultrasonic a year later and created another masterpiece, also unreleased. Beware, the linked bootleg here contains tracks from ‘73 as well.

I had infusion #10 yesterday morning. While overall it went fine, and I had no lasting ill effects, as usual, it did take 3 different nurses 4 attempts to find a usable vein for the IV. That wasn’t fun - and is a major change for me. I used to be a master at giving blood. Wendy and I would race to fill up the donation bags - much to the consternation of the Red Cross technicians. We had fun. Now, I’m, at best, giving a dribble. Don’t know why that is. I also stopped at a place that does IV infusions - often of vitamin concoctions, and asked about something called a NAD drip, which I’ve read has some regenerative effect on the brain. I discovered it after hearing about exosome therapy from a fellow diagnosee. I’m going to look more into that - but first I need to find a place near me that does it. Of course, since it's a novel treatment, It won’t be covered under any insurance. I also contacted another clinical trial offering explorations in Stem Cell therapy. Oddly for a clinical trial, they charge nearly 19,000 to participate. They also require a 5 day stay in Florida and ongoing testing managed by a neurologist - not part of the trial group. This, of course, is far too rich for my blood - unless it was promising a cure. Then I’d be all in. And sort of in response to a message from an old high school friend, if anyone knows of any interesting alternative treatments along these lines that perhaps won’t put me in the poorhouse - feel free to reach out. I’m not adverse to traveling a bit either.

Back to it then… This morning, with the lights flickering merrily, I listened to what is perhaps the best album of the last 10 years. 22 year old Marcus King, from South Carolina, released Carolina Confessions in 2018. For some reason, all the online versions have the tracks in a different order than my CD (now digitized). It’s too bad, because I think the album version is more cohesive. Ah well. Not a big deal.

Now, I don’t wish permanent emotional pain on anybody, but for some artists pain is well worn and creates some fine art. A vast number of my favorite albums are released by musicians in emotional distress - and when they heal, the poignancy of their work suffers. Carolina Confessions is an album written by a young man in pain. All songs harken to love and place lost. And that said, the music is uplifting. Marcus has created an album here with nary a bum note. Every song is good, every lick is tasty, all the musicians are top notch and every note is perfectly placed. (This is not bland perfection like Steely Dan - number one most hated band in the world.) Marcus is a fine guitar player, whether it be acoustic, fuzz drenched electric or on slide - all of which are showcased here with restraint and taste and a singer that reminds me of an amalgam of Janis Jopelin and a prepubescent boy. He’s backed by the Hammond B-3 (with Leslie, natch), a fine horn section, bass, drums and the occasional background vocals that sound like they could have come right out of Stax studios. In fact, the entire album is an indirect homage to Stax, blending soul, country, blues and rock with immaculate precision. This is a perfect southern rock album - American rock album. It could be a thesis project on Americana. I can’t love or recommend it more, and it was an excellent choice to wake up to this morning. It’s forlorn, lyrically, but not a sad album. I’ve got some of those - where the pain pours out into the music as well as the lyrics, but this is uplifting pain - and certainly not the pain of the early blues, but more the pain of teenage love lost. I had the good fortune to see this band live on tour for this release, from excellent seats. It was an incredible show, easily in my top 20. Sadly, in my opinion, most of King’s other work is skippable, although I listen to each album when it comes out with hope. There are great songs within these otherwise droll albums, like Wildflowers and Wine on his follow-up release, or Devil's Land (shown here live) from the prior release, but no cohesive whole like the Carolina Confessions album. And part of that, I believe, is because he managed his pain and it doesn’t pour out into his music anymore. Fifteen points out of ten.

There’s a sort of triangle stretching from Nashville, TN to Memphis on one side and to Muscle Shoals, Alabama on the other.

At the corners of this triangle are some of the greatest music towns that America has to offer. (I’m not discounting the input of New Orleans, Chicago, New York, Detroit, L.A., and many more.) Now, I’m not really too knowledgeable about Nashville. While recognizing its cultural significance, I can say that most of its offerings fall outside my realm of enjoyment. (While pointing out that the band All Them Witches, highlighted in the last post, and Rich Ruth, who will be discussed in the future, are from Nashville, but not purveyors of what is typically the Nashville sound.) However, Muscle Shoals and Memphis are dear to my heart. Muscle Shoals has two renowned recording studios. Perhaps you’ve heard Aretha Franklin’s I Never Loved A Man The Way That I Loved You, or Mustang Sally by Wilson Pickett? Both recorded at Fame Studios in Muscle Shoals. How about Respect Yourself, by the Staple Singers (also on Stax Records, showing the cooperation between these towns) or I'd Rather Go Blind, by Etta James. (Anyone hear more than a little Tennessee Whiskey in that track, by the way? I’m not going to scream outright plagiarism by the “writers” of Tennesse Whisky, but I wouldn’t be too wrong in doing so.) …Blind was written by Ellington Jordan, who we’ll be listening to next post. Or how about Brown Sugar or Wild Horses by the Stones (with piano played by Jim Dickinson - remember him)? All recorded at Muscle Shoals Sound. Not a bad legacy for a sleepy little town in Alabama.

Back to Memphis, we’ve already discussed the impact of Stax Records and studio. Also there is Royal Studios, home to Hi Records. I know you’ve heard Let's Stay Together, by Al Green. Recorded there at Royal Studios. And finally, we come to what might be considered the home of Rock’N’Roll itself. Sun Studio. It was at Sam Phillips’ Sun that The Million Dollar Quartet met for an impromptu jam session. Elvis cut his teeth at Sun, as did Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis (all members of the Million Dollar Quartet).

So, it does not escape notice that North Carolina slide guitarist and vocalist Reed Turchi chose Sun Studios to bring his Kudzu Choir and record his “Live In The Studio” recording Midnight In Memphis, which is what I listened happily to under the influence of the lights this morning. I’ve known of Turchi’s music for some time now - he owned a record label that issued a compilation album of tracks from the North Mississippi Hill Country Picnic, which is held annually. I’d really love to go to this sometime. When he shipped my CD, he took the liberty of enclosing copies of several of his own works, including the absolutely wonderful Tallahatchie, which made me a huge fan. Now, in the great tradition of Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, Geddy Lee and Les Claypool, Turchi cannot sing. And yet he does. But he’s a wonderful arranger, songwriter and slide guitar player, so his lack of vocal prowess can be overlooked as it can with the fine folks mentioned just above.

Midnight In Memphis is a deeply reverent record, holding quite true to the blues, country and soul of the deep south. Turchi features on slide Dobro (a metal acoustic resonator guitar, like this), along with a band consisting of horns, bass, drums, second guitar and background vocals. I don’t often quote folks in this blog, but I thought Turchi’s thoughts summed it all up here:

“The Kudzu Choir was founded with the belief that sharing the human experience and power

of human emotion through song is a higher calling, and that together we can

create new sounds while paying tribute to the roots of American music.

And one night we got to return to the source, the studio that Sam built, playing

and singing together, live, no walls between us.”

I love that idea, and I love Turchi’s work because of it. To me, this is what great music is about - it doesn’t really matter - in this case - whether you can sing perfectly or not. It matters what kind of heart you pour into your work. With that said, the next album I listen to will be one by a singer and guitarist who are nothing short of perfect. Every time. And they’ve got heart and soul for miles.

Of course, I’m talking about the Tedeschi Trucks Band, fronted by married couple vocalist (and excellent guitar player) Susan Tedeschi and living god Derek Trucks, who is arguably the greatest living practitioner of the guitar - slide or not. Trucks, who has family lineage directly to the Allman Brothers (uncle Butch was the ABB Drummer) started playing for the ABB when in 1999 he was 19 years old. He released his first solo album in 1997. (Here's a little clip of him playing the song Layla at 13.) Tedeschi released her first album in 1998. The TTB formed in 2010 and are based in Jacksonville FL. They are still working hard and excellently to this day.

This morning I listened happily to the 2011 live album Everybody's Talking. The video clips linked here are less than optimal, but it gives you, the reader, a chance to see the band at work. I listened, of course, to the much cleaned up released album. At least the first six tracks.

Bursting out of the gate with a rousing version of the title track, you can get a sense of the perfection of Derek’s slide fills and Susan’s powerhouse vocals. The lights were really happy (as was I) during this song - the entire listen actually. Lots of great colors, and flickering in perfect time. We move on to a steller version of a deeply moving song, Midnight In Harlem, which I’ve mentioned in these pages previously. During Derek’s solo at the end, if you close your eyes, you can imagine him (at least I do…) actually levitating. We then move into the rock-n-roll vibes of Learn How To Love, which showcases a jazzy saxophone solo and some wonderful guitar interplay between Tedeschi and Trucks. Next up is the gospel tinged Bound For Glory. After a rather tepid version of Rollin and Tumblin, a mainstay of the hill country blues - first recorded in 1929 (check out this riotous version by the North Mississippi Allstars, with Luther on a 2 string tin can guitar and his brother Cody on an electric washboard, or this much more traditional version by R.L. Burnside from 1968), Susan puts down her axe and we get into the wonderful Nobody’s Free - where Derek shows that he doesn’t need a slide, and we are treated to some excellent flute playing from Kofi Burbridge (RIP). Again, we see that this band can absolutely ROCK! This live album and show is a very early effort from a band that has continued to hone their craft and remain one of the top working bands around today. I loved it, my lights loved it, and given a chance, you will love it too!

I’m going to end this installment with the much more contemplative Blues And Ballads: A Folksinger's Songbook, by Luther Dickinson. Taking a break from the rocking North Mississippi Allstars, Dickinson pays homage to his band, mentors and the music of the great Mississippi Delta. Of this record, Dickinson says:

“This acoustic collection of songs interpreted simply, recorded live, solo or

with a small group of friends reflects my relationship between music, songs, the

written word and legacy. Blues & Ballads celebrates the American oral tradition

of blues and folk songs, not only being passed down and evolving but

being transcribed (the original recording technique) and entered into the

discipline of written sheet music and songbooks.”

It, therefore, is a fitting end to this post.

Imagine, if you will, your entire extended family coming over to hang out on your porch on a beautiful summer’s evening. You bring out your guitar, and you and a cousin start to play and sing while another family member keeps time on a rickety drum set. That’s what you get with this album. There is no flash playing - there are some solos, but all with taste and restraint. They support the music, not the player. Occasionally, someone else rips out an instrument - there’s a little barrelhouse piano on a track, and some fife, played by long time Dickenson pal Shardé Thomas, who happens to be the granddaughter of the great Otha Turner and also sings in some great call-and-response action. Incidentally, both Thomas and the drummer in the video above were at the Allstars Show in New Orleans mentioned in the last post that Jonas and I went to. Listening to the lyrics, you get songs remembering the old days in Mississippi, bemoaning (and ushering in) death, and straight up rocking bangers. And when the fictional grandmother in this alleged extended family who comes out to sing background on the song Ain’t No Grave happens to be the always amazing Mavis Staples, you’ve got the recipe for some serious mojo.

This isn’t the type of album I’d normally listen to for this project. It’s far too contemplative and low key, and I’d have presumed that the lights wouldn’t behave quite as well as I would have liked. But I was wrong. (Wendy - mark that down. Date and time for the admission of fallacy!) This was a great morning. I was drawn completely into the moment - very little wandering thought. Despite the general mellowness of the music, I am fully engaged! The lighting caught right on to the vibe, and everything was right with the world. Just as that family gathering on the porch is meant to connote.

Thanks for reading, as always - and peace!

Dy.