Jo-Ann Kelly, Jo Ann Kelly (1969)

I inherited this record a couple years ago and had no idea how good it was. I was skeptical about a young English woman with granny glasses trying to cover Son House. My mistake—she didn’t want to sound like him, she BECAME Son House when she played. Such a sad story—she died of a brain tumor about 10 years after this album came out. Listen to her on YouTube.

The lyrics to Fingerprint Blues sound like an episode of CSI or Law and Order. I’m a good child, but now I’m prison bound … when they found my gun, they found my switchblade knife, oh lord, they had my fingerprints twice … I’ve been skippin’ and dodgin’, goin’ from town to town, my friends have left me, lord, my fingerprints have been found … if you can’t come to the courtroom, please come to the prison walls.

Albert Collins and credit cards

I heard somebody refer to BankAmericard recently. It’s been 50 years or so since they changed the name. (I raised my kids to call Nissans Datsuns, but I don’t care about credit cards.) I thought of Albert Collins, whose 1978 album Ice Pickin’ contains Master Charge, a song that used outdated names for Mastercard and Visa to complain about the bills his wife ran up shopping with them. He said it was $500 the first day (about $1900 in today’s dollars). Me, I live near a fancy shopping block in Chicago, and the prices in the windows there are very high. I don’t know what’s expensive any more.

Collins was a superb blues performer. I saw him at Biddy Milligan’s on Sheridan Road in the late ‘70s. He earned his nickname of Master of the Telecaster that night. He was part showman, part shaman as he used all of his 100-foot guitar cord to dance through the revolving door as he was playing a solo. He encouraged the folks on the sidewalk to come on in, and then danced back through the door without missing a note.

I’ll get to the four albums of his I have. I wanted to tell the story about BankAmericard and his remarkable performance while Master Charge was stuck in my head.

24 Power Hits by the Original Stars

I can count at least five lies in that title. It is one of the worst records I ever bought. I hurried through a used record store in Toronto recently and saw this had at least a few good songs and cost $2. The sticker the store put on the record was cute: Random Compilation Record. Something more accurate: Lots of schlock. ‘Elenore’ by the Turtles is great—the lyrics rhyme ‘pride and joy, etcetra’ with ‘tell me that you love me betta.’ I’ve read that the Turtles meant to mock the smooth love songs they’d done such as ‘Happy Together.’ Even their put-ons were good pop music. ‘Crimson and Clover’ by Tommy James and the Shondells is okay—I was 16 when it came out, it’s about sex, and there’s plenty of wah-wah pedal. I heard ‘Quick Joey Small’ once on Bandstand and thought it was catchy. I was wrong. The other stuff I never need to hear again.

Randy Bachman Coming Back

He’s 80. He announced the return of Bachman-Turner Overdrive to touring (plus a concert film and an album). Joining him is his 55-year-old son, Tal, and touring musicians. Fred Turner is around and involved, the press release said, but won’t be touring.

I saw BTO playing with Burton Cummings at SARSstock in Toronto in 2003. The Rolling Stones got top billing; AC/DC played the best show, says me. As the band started Takin’ Care of Business, my 19-year-old son’s face lit up—finally a song he recognized. “Staples commercial, right?” he said.

I have a BTO record—Head On, released in 1975. Little Richard played piano! Take It Like a Man was about the drudgery of touring small towns in out-of-the-way places where people would come to see the band. Lookin’ Out For #1 expressed the same point of view. That was serious existential dread for a rock band. The world is different with Prozac.

Roy Acuff’s Greatest Hits, Vol. 2

I realized today that I haven’t engaged in this playthrough of my records. ‘My uncle took the message and he wrote it on the wall,’ yeah, sure. That doesn’t make me think of Chuck Berry trying to get back with his ex; I’m thinking of mix tapes of songs with operators, party lines, 10-cent calls from pay phones in booths—all gone. The songs have gone meta.

Roy Acuff pulled me back into the music. I didn’t expect it—he’s country about one step removed from the yodeling brakeman, but I reacted to the emotionally honest songs. He did Titanic as if it were ripped from the headlines, but it happened 40 years before he wrote the song—both World Wars occurred in the interim, nuclear weapons, the rise of communism; it wasn’t top of mind.

Streamlined Cannonball is a song about a fast train, and he played it like a dirge. Acuff wrote it, and I don’t rush to criticize an auteur, but Doc Watson’s version leaves it way up the track.

I should be embarrassed by how much I like Don’t Worry ‘Bout the Mule (Just Load the Wagon). It is a great break-up song (but my read is that he really doesn’t mean it). When I was producing copy for a living, the design manager would sometimes ask me if I could make the deadline if she assigned me another project. I always said, don’t worry ‘bout the mule, just load the wagon.

Odetta at the Gate of Horn

Tradition Records, 1957 (my rerelease is on Everest Records recently enough to include a ZIP code)

Here is an open-book quiz. Where was Odetta at the Gate of Horn recorded? A) At The Gate of Horn folk club in Chicago or B) at a recording studio in New York. Take your time; remember you can check the title of the record. If you’ve heard the record, you know it is a studio album which just happens to be named for a folk club. Marketing was strange in the ’50s.

I love Odetta’s voice. Some people might have wanted her to specialize in important songs, such as spirituals, gospel, and civil rights tunes; I love the way she did silly songs just as much, such as the children’s song about the fox raiding the hen house. She is bold enough to sing two Leadbelly tunes just like Leadbelly, and she doesn’t need to apologize. The liner notes and the label have them in the wrong order—there are many mistakes on liner notes if you look closely. The only time I gave notice on a job I sang bits from “Take This Hammer” for the two weeks. [By the end of my working days my employers gave me notice.] It’s a work song, I know that, but the manifest content of the lyrics is that the singer is getting out of prison (by dying).

Women were underrepresented in music during the vinyl years, and they are underrepresented in my record collection. I have a fair amount of Judy Collins and Grace Slick, Ella Fitzgerald and Lotte Lenya, but there isn’t much balance for the Rolling Stones, Grateful Dead, and Bob Seger. I’ll sneak in some Lydia Loveless, say, from streaming for balance.

How many songs use “vouchsafe” besides Green Sleeves? I don’t remember ever using it in conversation.

Happy Labor Day

Since I am happily retired, here are some relatively light-hearted songs about working for a living. I saw Son Seals do ‘Call My Job’ at Chicagofest in 1978 and was horrified. I realized there are people who had to call in sick to get a day off (I didn’t get paid, but I had all the time I wanted) and people who had to run a machine at work (not me, I painted apartments). Anyone who has to run a machine is entitled to sing the blues. As Goethe wrote: Just you wait, boy. Five years later I was sitting in an office in front of a computer, truly an infernal machine. Son Seals was a great singer, songwriter, and guitar player.

And a version of Peter Pan by the Fools: I don’t wanna get a job/I don’t wanna go to work. Also: I don’t wanna wear a tie/and a serious expression every time I get high. (This was 20 years before business casual and work from home.)

As I write when I send a birthday greeting: It isn’t the growing old that kills us, it’s the growing up. Let’s think about not working on this Labor Day.

It Was the Third of September

That day I’ll always remember, yes I will, ‘Cause that was the day my daddy died.

The Temptations got the best material from the Motown bosses. The word on the street in my neighborhood was that the Temps were supposed to attract kids who loved the Rolling Stones. I don’t know about how it was planned, but this rock and roll fan loved Cloud Nine and Ball of Confusion. When the Stones covered Just My Imagination and Ain’t Too Proud to Beg, the envy was clear.

Here’s the album version.

Blue Matter

Savoy Brown

Parrot (record label), 1969

I bought this record from my roommate when he decided to hit the open road. He bought it when it came out. This was before he had much taste in blues. It isn’t very good. I read in Wikipedia that one of the founding members left soon to start Foghat. I can tell. There are some tunes here that might have been melodic; the band just played them loud. A recurring problem for English blues bands was that when the singer wanted to be soulful, such as Muddy Waters and Elmore James (whose songs are on the record), he mostly sounded strained.

Cool album cover. Was Blue Matter a play on gray matter (that is, brains)? The monster on the cover looks like the creature from the Black Lagoon to me, but monsters tend to look alike. This was the first record I owned with the lyric “if the river were whiskey, and I were a diving duck/I’d swim to the bottom and drink myself back up.” I thought I was sophisticated.

The way the music business worked. The band wanted to tour in the U.S. They and the record company thought they should release an album before they toured. They rented some studio time but didn’t finish enough material for the record. The fastest way to get the new songs recorded was to play them at a concert. They set up an unpaid appearance. The lead singer got sick, but they were committed to that date, so another band member handled the vocals that night. None of that was what they planned.

Doctor Dunbar’s Prescription

The Aynsley Dunbar Retaliation
Blue Thumb, 1969 according to Wikipedia

British blues from around 1970 that is very good—a real rarity. One reviewer on Amazon said it sounds jazzy—I think that means the guys can play their instruments and stay in tune. I’m tempted to say they are businesslike—meant as a compliment, compared to shouters, muddy guitar players, and self-indulgent solos offered by other bands. It helps that they play mostly their own material, so they don’t mutilate classics. When they cover a classic, they do it well. They do a Little Walter tune, for example, and know better than to play any harmonica.

Aynsley Dunbar was John Mayall’s drummer for a while, then did some Retaliation albums, and then had a big career with Journey, the Mothers of Invention, and many more. He wrote one of Black Sabbath’s early hits. This phase of his career gets little notice on the internet.

I don’t know about the cover. It looks like spy photos. Or maybe an LSD trip? Is it what you’d see if you took Dr. Dunbar’s prescription? I don’t know, I suppose it looked arty. Something that cheered me: Some of the lyrics for these songs are available online, which wasn’t true five years ago.

This was the first record in alphabetical order in my collection for years, until I bought my first Roy Acuff record. One reason I didn’t integrate my wife’s records into my collection was to keep The Association from being first. An individual was alphabetized by last name, but this was the Aynsley Dunbar Retaliation, not Aynsley Dunbar, so it went under A. For performers who weren’t known by their real names, I used the pseudonym if it functioned as a real name. If you said, “Hey, Taj,” Taj Mahal would turn around, so he was filed under M. Call Richard Penniman “Hey, Little,” and you’d get blank stares, so he went under P. Muddy Waters, W. Big Bopper, R for Richardson. I decided Odetta went under O, but Donovan Leitch went under L. I love taxonomy.

“The Devil Drives” is a great title, based on one of my favorite lines from Marlowe. The singer gets advice from his mom, including “needs must that the Devil drives.” I have always thought this a delightful play on words in Doctor Faustus. The use of “that” instead of “who” or “whom” means we don’t know whether the Devil drives the person who needs must or in this case, the person drives the Devil. No one understood me in German class, either. The song also has the singer give his name—his mother called him Crozier. I’ve loved that since The Four Tops Live quoted Mom [“She said Levi, and that’s my name”].

First song suggesting underage sex: In “Call My Woman,” the singer says I’ve loved you since you were 12 years old.