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Tag: J. B. Lenoir

Friday, September 9th

basement jukebox: sounds of Chicago

J. B. Lenoir (1929-1967), “Mama Talk to Your Daughter,” 1955

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Magic Sam (aka Samuel Maghett, 1937-1969), “All Your Love,” 1957

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Otis Rush (1934-2018)“All Your Love (I Miss Loving),” 1958

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Junior Wells (1934-1998), “Little by Little,” 1960

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Buddy Guy (1936-), “First Time I Met the Blues,” 1960

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Sonny Boy Williamson II (aka Alex [or Aleck] Miller, 1912-1965), “Help Me,” 1963

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Fenton Robinson (1935-1997), “Somebody (Loan Me a Dime),” 1967

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lagniappe

random sights

yesterday, Chicago

Thursday, November 26th

basement jukebox

J. B. Lenoir (1929-1967), “Mama Talk To Your Daughter,” 1955

 

*****

Magic Sam (aka Samuel Maghett, 1937-1969), “All Your Love,” 1957

 

*****

Otis Rush (1934-2018)“All Your Love (I Miss Loving),” 1958

 

*****

Junior Wells (1934-1998), “Little by Little,” 1960

 

*****

Buddy Guy (1936-), “First Time I Met the Blues,” 1960

 

*****

Sonny Boy Williamson II (aka Alex [or Aleck] Miller, 1912-1965), “Help Me,” 1963

 

*****

Fenton Robinson (1935-1997), “Somebody (Loan Me a Dime),” 1967

 

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lagniappe

random sights

yesterday, Oak Park, Ill.

Friday, October 27th

basement jukebox

J.B. Lenoir, “Mama Talk To Your Daughter,” 1955

 

If I had a time machine, I’d travel back to 1954—the year they recorded this in Chicago—and I’d step into the studio, unobtrusively, just as they’re about to begin.

Monday, February 27th

basement jukebox

J.B. Lenoir (vocals, guitar; 1929-1967), “Mama Talk to Your Daughter,” 1954

 

Wednesday, November 5th

blues festival (day three)

J. B. Lenoir, “Slow Down” (J. B. Lenoir), live (at home), Chicago, 1965

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lagniappe

reading table

You need to be crazy to be great. I love crazy.

—Cubs’ new manager Joe Maddon (Chicago Tribune, 11/3/14)

 

Wednesday, May 14th

basement jukebox

J. B. Lenoir (1929-1967), “Mama Talk To Your Daughter,” 1954


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lagniappe

reading table

In the hospital yard stands a small annex surrounded by a whole forest of burdock, nettles, and wild hemp. The roof is rusty, the chimney is half fallen down, the porch steps are rotten and overgrown with grass, and only a few traces of stucco remain. The front facade faces the hospital, the back looks onto a field, from which it is separated by the gray hospital fence topped with nails. These nails, turned point up, and the fence, and the annex itself have that special despondent and accursed look that only our hospitals and prisons have.

—Anton Chekhov (1860-1904), “Ward No. 6” (opening paragraph; translated from Russian by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky)