Saturday, 11/20/10
I don’t know how boys do it these days—grow up, that is, without ever dreaming of being a cowboy.
Sunshine Boys (featuring J.D. Sumner), “We’re Gonna Ride on the Golden Range,” 1951 (Prairie Roundup)
I don’t know how boys do it these days—grow up, that is, without ever dreaming of being a cowboy.
Sunshine Boys (featuring J.D. Sumner), “We’re Gonna Ride on the Golden Range,” 1951 (Prairie Roundup)
MCOTD’s alter ego has a letter in today’s New York Times Book Review.
To the Editor:
In connection with his review of Stephen Sondheim’s “Finishing the Hat” (“Isn’t It Rich?” Oct. 31), Paul Simon, in the Up Front, says that when he wrote the refrain to “Bridge Over Troubled Water” — “Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down” — he had “no idea where those words and melody came from.” It takes nothing away from Mr. Simon to note that one apparent source of inspiration for this line was the Swan Silvertones’ gospel song “Oh Mary Don’t You Weep,” which was released in 1959. That recording, which features the wonderful Claude Jeter on lead vocals, includes the ad-libbed line “I’ll be a bridge over deep water if you trust in my name.” Mr. Simon has previously acknowledged this link.
RICHARD MCLEESE
Oak Park, Ill.
The Swan Silvertones, “Oh Mary Don’t You Weep” (1959): MP3
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replay: a clip too good for just one day
If influence were compensable, Claude Jeter of the Swan Silvertones—a huge influence on Sam Cooke, Curtis Mayfield, Eddie Kendricks (Temptations), Al Green, even Paul Simon (who took inspiration from a line in the Swans’ “hit” “Oh Mary Don’t You Weep” [“I’ll be a bridge over deep water if you trust in my name”] when he wrote “Bridge Over Troubled Water”)—would have, when he passed earlier this year at the age of 94, died a wealthy man.
Swan Silvertones, “Only Believe,” live
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lagniappe
When he leaves the house [in NYC], he whistles his favorite tune, ‘What A Friend We Have In Jesus,’ while greeting the assorted neighborhood junkies and prostitutes who knew him mainly as sometime manager of the [Hotel] Cecil. ‘What’s new, Jeter,’ they ask. ‘Nothing new, nothing good, just thank God for life up here with these heathens and muggers.’
—Anthony Heilbut, The Gospel Sound: Good News and Bad Times (1971)
(Originally posted on 9/13/09.)
Leon Russell loved these guys so much—both, alas, have since passed—that, in 1974, he recorded them for his Shelter label.
The O’Neal Twins
“Jesus Dropped The Charges,” live
Take 1 (Say Amen, Somebody [1982])
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Take 2
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“It’s A Highway To Heaven,” live (Say Amen, Somebody [1982])
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“Power In The Blood,” live (TV broadcast), mid-1960s
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“He Chose Me,” live
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“He’ll Give You Peace In The Midst Of The Storm,” live, Texas (Dallas), 1981
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lagniappe
In a 2005 interview with the Post-Dispatch, Mr. [Edgar] O’Neal spoke about the early challenges. “We always had bookings and recordings, but when we started, black gospel was not readily accepted with the wide range it is today,” he said. “And the money wasn’t there.”
The O’Neals—with Edgar on piano and both brothers singing—challenged gospel tradition. “The main gospel thrust at the time (was) male quartets, and we were a piano group,” Mr. O’Neal said. “We were considered in a different category from the male singing groups. But then the quartets got into piano. It took some years as we stayed out there before our style took hold.”
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The O’Neal Twins
Fontella Bass
Chuck Berry
Scott Joplin
Little Milton
Clark Terry
Ike & Tina Turner
When it comes to musical history, few cities are as rich as St. Louis.
What was it like to grow up, in the 1950s, in the lonesome state of Oklahoma?
Leon Russell knows.
So does this guy.
J.J. Cale (with Eric Clapton), “After Midnight,” live, Texas (Dallas), 2004
Who supplies the juice here?
It ain’t the guitar god from England.
It’s the grizzled guitar player from the state with the funny shape (:38-1:12, 1:41-44, 2:14-48, 3:36-50, 4:20-44).
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lagniappe
radio
Last week’s Sinner’s Crossroads (10/28/10) features a lot of wonderful music by the late Albertina Walker.
At the recording session for the new Elton John/Leon Russell album, how did producer T Bone Burnett break the ice in the studio?
He played this clip (“Didn’t It Rain,” 2:20).
Mahalia Jackson, “Everybody Talkin’ ‘Bout Heaven,” “Didn’t It Rain,” “The Lord’s Prayer,” live, Newport Jazz Festival (Newport, Rhode Island), 1958
Want more? Here.
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lagniappe
I think that this is what everybody needs a whole lot of—not only in their playing, but in their way of living.
As far as rating this—maybe you should use a different kind of star for rating this from the stars you use rating jazz records. A moving star. Make it five moving stars.
—Charles Mingus, listening to a record by Mahalia Jackson during a Downbeat “Blindfold Test” (1960)
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art beat
Lee Friedlander, “Mahalia Jackson” (1956)
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[I]t almost looks like if you could see the next second after this picture was taken that she would start to ascend.
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live on the ’net: tonight, 8 p.m. (EDT)
Todd Rundgren, “the Class of 1963 Wells Scholars Professor at Indiana University Bloomington for this fall,” will talk about—and perform—his music in an “autobiographical concert” that’ll be video-streamed live.
Here’s more of the late Albertina Walker.
“Lord, Remember Me,” live
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“I’m Still Here” (joined by Delores Washington), live, 1998, Philadelphia
Want more? Here.
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lagniappe
Here’s a better clip from this service than the one posted last Sunday (now deleted).
Aretha Franklin, “I’ll Fly Away,” live, Homegoing Service for Albertina Walker, Chicago (West Point Baptist Church, 3566 S. Cottage Grove), 10/15/10
Few musicians, on any instrument, give me so much joy.
Ed Blackwell, October 10, 1929-October 7, 1992
Mal Waldron Quintet (Mal Waldron, piano, with Ed Blackwell, drums; Reggie Workman, bass; Charlie Rouse, saxophone; Woody Shaw, flugelhorn), “The Git-Go,” live, New York (Village Vanguard), 1986
Part 1
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Part 2
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Part 3
Want more of Ed Blackwell? Here.
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lagniappe
I’ve been playing with Blackwell over 20 years. We used to play when I first went to Los Angeles. Blackwell plays the drums as if he’s playing a wind instrument. Actually, he sounds more like a talking drum. He’s speaking a certain language that I find is very valid in rhythm instruments.
Very seldom in rhythm instruments do you hear rhythm sounding like a language. I think that’s a very old tradition, because the drums, in the beginning, used to be like the telephone—to carry the message.
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In one of my clearest memories of the drummer Ed Blackwell, he sat in an Indian restaurant drawing percussion notation on the tablecloth with a felt-tipped pen. The waiters looked on, aghast, as the splodgy black figures spread across their white linen, but Blackwell, rapt in concentration behind his dark glasses, remained oblivious. Music was all that mattered to him, the drums in particular, and there was a particular point he needed to make.
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Blackwell was a deeply serious artist who, whatever his circumstances, put the music first and insisted his associates did likewise. In New York percussion circles he was seen as a teacher. He often quoted the Chinese adage, ‘Neglect your art for a day, and it will neglect you for two’, and would actively pursue other drummers whom he respected, should he feel they reneged on commitment.
I never saw him without a pair of drumsticks or homemade mallets in his hand; these he would employ constantly as much to accentuate a point as to strengthen his wrists. Some percussionists have made a cabaret act from beating out rhythms on any available surface; Blackwell would do it to fill in gaps in conversation. He played drums like that, too: the perfect listener, who could equally stimulate and inspire with his enviable grasp of polyrhythmic possibilities.
No jazz musician can claim greater authenticity than a New Orleans birth. It is the most African of US cities, where Yoruba religious practice continues and the Second Line that accompanies street-parades moves with an African strut. From the moment he could walk, Blackwell was part of that Second Line and as a child he danced in the street for pennies. That characteristic dancestep and the ‘double-clutching’ two-beat of the parade bass drum remained features of his playing, securely anchoring his adventurousness in an earlier memory.
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More from the Albertina Walker Musical Tribute
Michael McKay (voice), Delores Washington (voice), Juli Wood (alto saxophone), “I’m Still Here,” live, Chicago, 10/14/10
Live (as I heard it Thursday night), this music hits like a tidal wave, washing over you, engulfing you.
Percy Gray, Jr. & the Chicago Mass Choir (joined by, among others, Joe Ligon [Mighty Clouds of Joy] at 7:00-8:05), “God Is My Everything,” Musical Tribute to the late Albertina Walker, live, Chicago (Apostolic Church of God, 63rd & Dorchester), 10/14/10
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lagniappe
technical stuff
In the stuff-you-may-already-know department, there are sites—like this—where you can convert YouTube clips to mp3s.
Great horn players don’t play—they sing.
Pharoah Sanders (tenor saxophone, with Paul Arslanian, harmonium), “Kazuko,” live, California (Marin Headland), 1982
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lagniappe
Trane was the father. Pharoah was the son. I was the holy ghost.
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Want more of the late Albertina Walker?
This week’s Gospel Memories (WLUW-FM)—available here—is devoted entirely to her music.