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Clocking in at 718 pages divided into fifty-two chapters, endwords, notes, bibliography and index, Barry Miles' Call Me Burroughs: A Life (New York: Twelve, 2014) delivers a treasure trove of biographical detail, cultural history and social context. One of my favorite big reads of 2014.
Within this hefty tome, we find everything from little William S. Burroughs' childhood visions (a la William Blake) of a green deer; his calling of the toads; and instrumental collaborations with other artists -- Allen Ginsberg of course, Jack Kerouac for a time and Brion Gysin, among many others.
In 1937 while in Prague, Burroughs had an emergency appendectomy and remained in hospital for seventeen days: "before antibiotics, peritonitis was lethal, so he was fortunate" (page 65). The same year, he married Ilse Herzfeld Klapper, who was Jewish, in order to help her escape to the USA from the encroaching Nazis.
That's "just a little taste."
By the 1970s, the period when Burroughs was living at "The Bunker" in New York City and also associated with the Hotel Chelsea, he was befriended by Debbie Harry and Patti Smith, in the burgeoning music scene (which I've always found interesting). They remained friends, too.
In his final years based in Kansas, Burroughs was visited by Kurt Cobain, a highly emotional "Burroughs fan." Given how weird Burroughs himself could be, one can't help but want to laugh or cry in response to his quip, after Cobain drove off from their meeting in October 1993: "There's something wrong with that boy; he frowns for no good reason" (page 620). Cobain committed suicide about six months later, a member of the so-called twenty-seven club.
There are lots of other precious tidbits peppered throughout Call Me Burroughs. I hadn't realized that Arthur C. Clarke (2001: A Space Odyssey, 1968) was gay, for instance. Nor had I quite grasped just how dramatically Jack Kerouac had broken off from Burroughs and Ginsberg, for so many of his last years, largely because of Kerouac's (and his mother's) freak-outs.
Thank you, Barry Miles!
Today's Rune: Breakthrough.
History-based series usually grab my attention -- especially if they're thoughtful and entertaining. Showtime's new Masters of Sex is both. It's like a compelling mix of Mad Men (2007-present) and Kinsey (2004). I totally dig it so far, especially the lead actors playing, respectively, "Bill" Masters (Michael Sheen) and "Ginny" Johnson (Lizzy Caplan). The principals are three-dimensional, not sugar-coated, and I love it.
May not be for the overly dainty or sexually squeamish -- unless accompanied by an open mind and a strong heart, or a strong mind and an open heart (or some such combo).
An interesting subtext for Masters of Sex is the matter of human jealousy -- something to watch out for throughout the series and in all human affairs.
Today's Rune: Fertility. Note: Based on the book by Thomas Maier, adapted and shaped by Michelle Ashford.
World's Fair events were a great and life-affirming thing! What the hell happened to them? There hasn't been a single one in nearly thirty years in North America. Since that duffer Reagan, come to think of it.
Is it now once again possible that Toronto will host a new World's Fair in 2015 or a World Expo in 2025? At this point, maybe not. But if it did, how would it compare to Montreal's Expo 67?
The World's Fair and similar expositions were once upon a not-too-distant time ago very exciting magnets for people from all over the place. Here's my great uncle Clifford "Uncle Cliff" France (1899-1992) and great aunt Jessie Irene Lovejoy France (1903-1986) at some expo or World's Fair grounds -- probably during the Great War of 1914-1918. That is,
Brief stop in St. Louis on the way back to Texas -- in between storms. Long enough to snap this shot through glass at Lambert–St. Louis International Airport, which was heavily damaged by a tornado in 2011. There are storm shelters in evidence, which is good because rough weather seems to come through the area with alarming frequency. Also glimpsed the brightly lit New Busch Stadium (Cardinals), the Gateway Arch and the flooded Mississippi River. Good beans for a short visit. I want very much to return to the city proper to conduct research at the Mercantile Library, among other places. The mind-blowing Cahokia Mounds are nearby, too -- here's a UNESCO World Heritage site link: http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/198.
Today's Rune: Partnership.
After absorbing histories of Detroit and New Orleans, finished reading Adam Arenson's The Great Heart of the Republic: St. Louis and the Cultural Civil War (Harvard University Press, 2011). Fascinating. Arenson's main focus covers the period 1848 to 1877, including the simmering issues of "Manifest Destiny," slavery, ethnic and race relations, railroads and bridge-building. Then as now, political rivalries and competing socio-economic visions drove discussions and events. More on this, no doubt, to come.
Today's Rune: Defense.
Starting just before 9 p.m. local time, Chuck Berry and his band began a gloriously ragged show -- sometimes sounding off scale and courting disaster, sometimes interweaving near-perfect doses of raw guitar power -- and even finely wrought beauty during "You Never Can Tell." Coming just two nights after Clint Eastwood's "Empty Chair" act, Chuck Berry's performance was often just as wild, but delivered with more grace. Wonderful. I was imagining Johnny Thunders, Sid Vicious and Keith Richards playing along with him in spirit. This was the real thing, uncorked.
Apparently the band was a little late coming from the airport, and so in between them and a warm-up performance by Andi Laree & Cory Elrod and crew, some strange old cowboy gave a bizarre standup improv -- he reminded me of Man Mountain Mike, the professional wrestler famous in the 1970s.
When they did show up, Chuck Berry and crew played for a solid hour and change. This intimate concert was held in the Ballroom of the Fort Worth Convention Center. I'd say there were about 300 Spartans in attendance. Lucky for me! I'd always wanted to see Chuck, and now I have done so.
The backing band included Charles Edward Berry, Jr., on guitar, a keyboardist, harmonica player/backup vocalist, drummer and bass player. Chuck is skinny and was wearing in part a shiny red shirt and Greek fisherman's cap. His thin singing voice sounds the same as it must have sounded fifty plus years ago. And, as he noted: "I'm 85 -- I know what it means to stand." Now when he sings "I didn't know if I was dead or alive," he may mean that literally, upon waking. Still, believe it or not, he managed to do the "Duck Walk" for the finale. At his invitation, a score of women came up to the stage and danced -- security and organizers looked aghast. It was the perfect crescendo ending to a raucous performance. As Chuck said earlier in the show, "When it's over, it's over, Ladies and Gentlemen."
Some of the songs covered in whole or in part:
"School Days"
"Carol"
"Rock and Roll Music"
"Let It Rock"
"You Never Can Tell"
"Maybellene"
"Honest I Do"
"My Ding-a-Ling"
"Johnny B. Goode"
"Nadine" (opening fragment)
"Reelin' and Rockin'"
Today's Rune: Harvest.
More entries from Surreal London Rebooted, 1991.
I. St. Louis police arrested a 38-year-old man for hitting Sharon Copeland, 35, with a hammer while she was sunbathing in her backyard. According to police, the man told her, "I don't like sunbathers." He also told them, "The metric system angers me."*
II. "The person is never to be thought of as a Thing or a substance; the person is rather the unity of living-though . . . which is immediately experienced in and with our Experience -- not a Thing merely thought of behind and outside what is immediately Experienced . . . Nor can the being of a person be entirely absorbed in being a subject of rational acts which follow certain laws. . ." -- Martin Heidegger, Seit und Zeit / Being and Time (translated by John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson (N.Y.: Harper & Row, 1962), page 73.
III. Frisian barm = a froth of fermenting malt. Barmy on the crumpet = wrong in the head; cracked. A succession of sleek sneers. Sleek tears professed agonizing humility. What a jape.
IV. At Great College Street, I read Rimbaud's London letters . . . hoping to invoke the lost poet's spirit. There is no more 8, only a 5 & 10, though there is an 8 Little College Street just around the corner. There are the walled grounds of the abbey that predates his stay, across from 5, and a narrow cobbled street remains -- near Westminister. Sometimes gliding and colliding he / careens through the streets of Paris.
V. The Rollright Stones. Kept up by Ms. Pauline Flick and her dog Katie near Chipping Norton. She inherited the land of the Rollright Stones that date back 3,500 years or more. She has 28 stray cats at home in an enclosed area, in stables three miles away. She gives the 20p admission fee to charities. She is writing a book about dogs.
VI. Pantisocrats, scatter and make right / Bloom your forest ways & villages / Susquehanna settlements / Transforming time and space. . .
VII. At the Cask & Glass. "Bloody hell! It's the pair from the C & G!" Bartender: "Where's the wedding?" "Chizz!"
Today's Rune: Movement. *This must be quoting an article from a newspaper or tabloid.
I've always liked Redd Foxx (1922-1991). It doesn't hurt that I share the same birthday (December 9). Now learning new stuff after starting in on Black and Blue: The Redd Foxx Story by Michael Seth Starr (Applause, 2011). So far, I've followed him from St. Louis (family name: Sanford; father and brother's name, Fred) to a black Catholic school in Milwaukee, Wisconsin to Chicago to Harlem to New Jersey and across country. He's an enterprising (and lucky) survivor all down the line: as "Chicago Red," running buddy with "Detroit Red," subsequently Malcolm X; as singer; as MC; as stand-up comic; and as ladies' man. One of the coolest photos in the book is of Foxx and Malcolm X meeting at Shabazz Restaurant, Harlem, in 1962.
Today's Rune: Wholeness.
Already with her in spirit despite differences in gender and race, I learned a lot from Angela Y. Davis' Blues Legacies and Black Feminism: Gertrude "Ma" Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Billie Holiday (Vintage, 1999, Random House, 1998). Building as it does on Daphne Duval Harrison's Black Pearls: Blues Queens of the 1920s (Rutgers, 1988), this work has deepened and broadened my perspective, certainly. In addition to rendering a compelling analytical study of the three major recording artists enumerated in the subtitle (who were also very popular live performers, all with enduring impact) -- and with due consideration and attention given to race, gender and class -- Davis also provides her own very helpful transcriptions of the lyrics of Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith.
Davis' introduction concludes:
"Finally, I hope this study will inspire readers to listen to the recordings of Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Billie Holiday both for pleasure and for purposes of research, and that it will occasion further interdisciplinary studies of the artistic and social contributions of blues and jazz women." (p. xx).
Toward these goals, I've been working on two St. Louis and Chicago-based blues singers of the 1920s and 1930s, Luella Miller and Mary Johnson, mostly listening to their recordings and transcribing their lyrics as sung. Some of the initial results have been posted on this blog. The work of Davis, Harrison and others gives these kinds of studies impetus, direction and added relevance.
Today's Rune: Wholeness.
"Tornado Groan" by Luella Miller (1927)
Tornado swept out this little town today
Tornado swept out this little town today
And taken away everything I had.
The lightning flashed, wind rattled around my door
Lightning flashed, wind rattled around my door
Ever since that time, I haven’t seen my house no more.
It ruined my clothes and blowed my bed away
It ruined my clothes, blowed my bed away
I ain’t got no place to lay my heavy head.
The storm come back and blowed my man away
Storm come back and blowed my man away
That’s the reason why I ain’t got a good man today.
I’m lonesome now, I have to walk the street
Lonesome now, I have to walk the street
A flat stranger to everyone I meet.
Mmmmmhhh, tornado ruined my home
Mmmmmhhh, tornado ruined my home
And left me standing with the tornado groan.
http://www.we7.com/album/Luella-Miller/Luella-Miller-1926-1928?m=0
This was recorded on October 11, 1927, less than two weeks after a tornado ripped through St. Louis (on September 29). See “High Water Everywhere: Blues and Gospel Commentary on the 1927 Mississippi River Flood,” pp. 49-50, in Nobody Knows Where the Blues Come From: Lyrics and History, ed. Robert Springer, 2005, 2006. I'm not sure about one word each in lines 9 ("heavy") and 15 ("flat").
Photo: St. Louis tornado aftermath and cleanup of telephone poles, 1927. Courtesy of AT&T Archives and History Center.
Photo: St. Louis tornado aftermath, Sarah and Cook, 1927. Courtesy of AT&T Archives and History Center.
Lonnie Johnson (with uncredited assistance from Mary Johnson), "St. Louis Cyclone Blues," 1927:
I was sitting in my kitchen
Lookin' way out 'cross the sky
I was sitting in my kitchen
Lookin' out 'cross the sky
I thought the world was ending
I started in to cry.
The wind was howling
The buildings beginnin' to fall
The wind was howlin'
The buildings beginnin' to fall
I seen that mean old twister comin'
Just like a cannonball.
The world was black as midnight
I never heard such a noise before
The world was black as midnight
I never heard such a noise before
Sound like a million lions
When they turn loose their roar.
Oh, people was screamin'
And runnin' every which old away
Oh, people was screamin'
Runnin' every which old away
Lord have mercy on our poor people!
I fell down on my knees
I started in to pray.
The shack where we were living
She reeled and rocked but never fell
Lord, Have mercy!
The shack where we were living
It reeled and rocked but never fell
Have mercy!
How the cyclone spared us
Nobody but the Lord can tell.
Horrifically, St. Louis endured another cyclone/tornado/twister last night, on Earth Day.
Today's Rune: Harvest.
Here's my transcription of Mary Johnson's "Black Gal Blues." On this take, Johnson is accompanied by Henry Brown on piano; song recorded on August 24, 1934, in Chicago.
"Black Gal Blues" by Mary Johnson
Black gal, black gal
How come you talk about poor me so?
The more you talk about me
The more your man hangs around my door.
Now if you can’t hold your man
Don’t call me no so and so.
If your lovin’ won’t hold him
Why don’t you let him go?
If your lovin’ won’t hold him
Why don’t you let him go?
Well don’t blame me
If I got Mr. so and so.
If you don’t like my peaches
Please don’t you shake my tree.
If you don’t like my peaches
Please don’t shake my tree.
I don’t ask your man for his money
He brings it on home to me.
Black gal, black gal
What makes your nappy head so hard?
Black gal, black gal
What make your nappy head so hard?
The more you talk about me
Your man stays in my back yard.
Black gal, black gal
How come you talk about poor me so?
The more you talk about me
The more your man hangs around my door.
Now if you can’t hold your man
Don’t call me no so and so.
http://www.we7.com/song/Mary-Johnson/Black-Gal-Blues?m=0
Today's Rune: Harvest.
With the help of some old school headphones that cost under $10, it's become a whole lot easier to transcribe the old blues lyrics. Here's my take on Mary Johnson's "No Good Town Blues." She draws out each word on the recording.
"No Good Town Blues"
Now I’m going away
From this old no good town
Now I’m going away
From this old no good town
‘Cause the man I love
He done turned me down.
I’m going to the station
Goin’ to catch me a passing train
I’m going to the station
Goin’ to catch me a passing train
It takes the Good Lord to tell
When I’ll be back again.
You can never tell
What’s on the St. Louis men’s mind
You can never tell
What’s on the St. Louis men’s mind
When you think they’re lovin’ you
They done changed their mind.
A married man’ll tell you
He love you all of his life
A married man’ll tell you
He love you all of his life
And then go home and tell that
Same thing to his loving wife.
Ain’t no good married man
Lord in a no good town
Ain’t no good married man
Lord in a no good town
I can’t stay around here
There’s too much talk going around.
http://www.we7.com/song/Mary-Johnson/No-Good-Town-Blues?m=0
(Mary Johnson, accompanied by pianist Judson Brown, April 9, 1930, Chicago.)
Today's Rune: Harvest.
I finished this before last Christmas, and really like Daphne Duval Harrison's Black Pearls: Blues Queens of the 1920s (Rutgers University Press, 1988). It covers somewhat lesser known 20s blues singers (i.e. beyond Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith) and looks to dovetail nicely with an Angela Davis book in the pipeline that proceeds from Rainey and Smith through Billie Holiday.
For now, here's how the contents break down. This'll give an idea of Harrison's focal points:
Riding "Toby" to the Big Time
"Crazy Blues" Starts a New Craze
"Wild Women Don't Have the Blues": Blues from the Black Woman's Perspective
"Up the Country. . ." and Still Singing the Blues: Sippie Wallace
Blues Was Her Business: Victoria Spivey
"He Used to Be Your Man . . ." But He's Edith Wilson's Now
"She's Got a Mind to Ramble: Alberta Hunter . . .
Other Blues Singers [including Chippie Hill, sampled below with Louis Armstrong]
Today's Rune: Signals.
The destiny that society traditionally offers women is marriage. Even today, most women are, were, or plan to be married, or they suffer for not being so. Marriage is the reference by which the single woman is defined, whether she is frustrated by, disgusted at, or even indifferent to this institution. . . Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex.*
Mary Williams Smith Johnson (b. ca. 1900-1905, Eden Station, Mississippi, d. ca. 1970 or early 1980s, St. Louis?) was married to Lonnie Johnson (b. 1889 or 1894, 1899 or ca. 1900?-d. 1970) from 1925 to 1932; at one point they apparently traveled to New York City together, but overall were apart much of the time. They had five kids or so. Lonnie traveled extensively, and seems to have hooked up with Bessie Smith in the late 1920s when he accompanied her on tour as musician. It must have been one crazy marriage. "Mary Johnson Blues" was recorded on September 22, 1932, in Richmond, Indiana, with Roosevelt Sykes on piano and Artie Mosby on violin. This was the same day and place Sykes recorded "Highway 61 Blues."
“Mary Johnson Blues” by Mary Johnson
I once was a married woman
Saddest day I ever was
I once was a married woman
Saddest day I ever was
I was a young girl at home
And I did not know the world
I’d rather to be an old maid
Than to be worried and blue each and every day
I’d rather to be an old maid
Than to be worried and blue each and every day
‘Cause these worrisome old men
Can cause your head to turn white and gray
Ah, play your thing for Miss Johnson
Baby you caused me to leave my happy home
And you cause me to weep and moan
You caused me to leave my happy home
And you cause me to weep and moan
That is why baby
This band will take your place today
Ah, play it for me, ‘cause I got the blues
I’m just sittin’ here thinkin’
Baby just a minute ago
I’m just sittin’ here thinkin’
Baby just a minute ago
I once was a married woman
And I rue the day I ever was
Today's Rune: Partnership.
*The Second Sex, translated by Constance Borde and Sheila Malovany Chevallier (Alfred A. Knopf, 2010; orginally published by Gallimard as Le deuxième sexe in two volumes, 1949), p. 439. N.B.: I transcribed this en route to Greensboro, North Carolina, in a regional jet plane at an altitude of about 37,000 feet -- in case you were wondering.
A couple of early tunes from Mary Johnson transcribed by yours truly. A new pair of classic style headphones is making this process a hell of a lot easier.
"Room Rent Blues" was recorded in Chicago on May 7, 1929, and "Western Union Blues," two days later. Same backing players for both: Ike Rodgers on trombone, Henry Brown on piano.
These ditties serve as heralds for The Great Depression. Also applicable during The Great Recession, although Western Union discontinued telegram deliveries in the USA in 2006.
"Room Rent Blues" by Mary Johnson
My room rent is due this morning
I did not have a dime
My room rent is due this morning
I did not have a dime
The landlord told me
He'd give me till half past nine.
I said kind Papa
Will you please give me a chance
Oooohhhhhhhhh
Please give me a chance
I'll get myself some money
And pay my room rent in advance.
I'm just a poor girl
I have no place to go
I'm just a poor girl
Have no place to go
I haven't got no good man
And I'm zippin' from door to door.
I'm going to the radio station
Put my voice on the air
I'm going to the radio station
Puttin' my voice on the air
And maybe by broadcastin'
I can save my room rent somewhere.
"Western Union Blues" by Mary Johnson
I woke up this morning
As the clock was striking three
I woke up this morning
As the clock was striking three
I heard the doorbell ringing
And it sure did worry me.
I got up in a slumber
And put on my shoes and clothes
I got up in a slumber
And put on my shoes and clothes
I thought about my Daddy
And opened my front door.
I received a message
And I began to weep
I received a message
And I began to weep
It was a telegram from my Daddy
Dying of a heart disease.
I know I loved my Daddy
And him I hated to lose
I know I loved my Daddy
And him I hated to lose
That's why you hear me singing
I've got these Western Union blues.
Western Union Man
I hate to see you pass my door
Western Union Man
I hate to see you pass my door
Make me think about my Daddy
That I'll never see no more.
Two comments: I use the term "zippin'" as in zippin' around, also nipping in and out of places. Glad to see it already in use 81 years ago. Secondly, did her Daddy actually die, or did he merely find a new Special Lady Friend?
Today's Rune: Harvest.
In tribute to George Hickenlooper (5/25/1963-10/29/2010), here is an entry originally posted in 2006, with a few slight changes.
Before director George Hickenlooper completes production of the new Edie Sedgwick biop, it’s worth revisiting his earlier work. For now, I’ll focus on his touching and insightful documentary shot on location during the filming of Texasville (1990) -- which was itself a sequel to The Last Picture Show (1971), and based, like the earlier film, on a Larry McMurtry novel of the same name.
Picture This: The Times of Peter Bogdanovich in Archer City, Texas (1991) was produced by Timothy Bottoms and co-produced by Sam Bottoms, his brother.
The viewer quickly gets a feel for Archer City in any of these three films. In Hickenlooper’s work, the people from the community who were willing to talk are fascinating – defiantly rural in outlook but quite cognizant of pop culture. They are quite happy to make their attitudes known on film.
In Picture This, we learn a lot about the making of The Last Picture Show, directed (as was Texasville) by Bogdanovich. Production designer Polly Pratt, his wife at the time, had recommended making the book into a movie. Once they decided to do it in collaboration with Larry McMurtry, they flew to Dallas-Fort Worth and drove with him for two hours scouting locations before arriving in Archer City. Seeing the swinging traffic light there, the out of towners concluded, “This is the town,” to which McMurtry responded, “It ought to be: this is the town I wrote about.” Apparently, the author wanted to change some of the original content, but the director and Pratt decided to stay true to the book, with only minor changes. (And they succeeded brilliantly).
We get to see Larry’s mother Hazel interviewed, and she’s quite entertaining. She recalls challenging The Last Picture Show novel as scandalous, to which her son responded pragmatically and unflinchingly, “I want my books to sell.”
Pratt was taken with McMurtry’s talent as a writer, and was awed by his making it despite the poverty of his surroundings. “Of course,” she concludes, “it was that town that incubated that talent to grow – what else was there to do?”
There is much speculation about what character is based on what real person. And though McMurtry at one point says bluntly “I’m not a journalist -- I’m a fiction writer,” actual people did make their way into composite major characters. We learn, for instance, that Archer City’s “Most Beautiful Girl” in a long ago yearbook is Celie Slack (Ceil Cleveland, who wrote a memoir about this in 1997), that she did inspire elements of Jacy Farrow (played by Cybill Shepherd in her first acting role). Bobby Stubbs formed at least the rough model for Sonny (played by Timothy Bottoms), down to havng had his eye gouged in a fight with Celie’s other boyfriend. Celie puts it rather sweetly: “Bobby and I were very good friends.” Indeed.
One of the best aspects of Picture This is the interwoven series of personal recollections about production decisions and processes. The viewer also gets to see brief screen tests, including one for Randy Quaid. What strikes me about all the actors is how similar they seem in real life to their on screen personas. One of them, Ben Johnson, initially turned down the role of Sam the Lion because of “bad language,” and had to be persuaded by director John Ford to play the part, which eventually earned him an Academy Award.
For all sorts of reasons, it was a tough film to make for most of the cast and crew. One reason was the love affair that developed between Bogdanovich and Shepherd. The director discovered his Jacy on the cover of Glamour Magazine and immediately fell for her “insouciant, slightly sardonic smile. . .” When they met, Shepherd appreciated that he treated her “equally.” According to PB: “We just talked and she was sort of offhand. . .” and sometime during the course of film making, they hooked up. Pratt, the displaced wife, observed of the newcomer: “She is that girl who seems to have it all” – the perfect person to play Jacy Farrow. As one of the crew members recalls: “All of a sudden one day Polly was not staying in Peter’s suite.” But Polly made a truce with reality and completed the project, even having to do Cybill’s hair each day before filming. Pratt merely observes: “I really believed that every director would have an affair with their leading lady.”
Shepherd characterizes her hookup with the director as the beginning of a “major relationship” with Bogdanovich – and indeed, they did not end their romance until 1978 when, "fed up with Hollywood," she returned to her hometown of Memphis and married an auto-parts dealer.
Today's Rune: Fertility.
"High Water Everywhere" by David Evans (from yesterday's post) is a very cool chronicle of recordings made about the Great 1927 Mississippi Flood and related events. I would argue there are even more related recordings, though perhaps somewhat coded or oblique in their lyrical content. One comes to mind right off the bat, and I'm sure there are more out there waiting to be rediscovered. Evans discusses Luella Miller's "Muddy Stream Blues" and "Tornado Groan." I would add her "East St. Louis Blues" to the list. The lyrics are transcribed here:
http://eriklerouge.blogspot.com/2010/10/blues-lamentations-from-prohibition-and.html
Evans discusses not only the great flood and severe weather conditions of 1927, but also an earthquake that occurred along the New Madrid fault at the same time (on May 7, 1927, to be precise). Were the disasters interconnected? He quotes Dr. Arch Johnston, Director of the Center for Earthquake Research and Information: "[E]arthquakes can be induced or triggered by external changes of surface conditions. One of the best examples is earthquakes induced by artificial reservoirs, and they correlate best with sudden changes in the reservoir water level rather than the absolute level itself. The great 1927 flood would qualify as 'sudden.'"* Wow. Of course, we're now used to the idea of earthquakes triggering oceanic tsunamis, but here we're talking about earthquakes and inland waterways!
For the sake of brevity, I'll pick up on the other chapters at some point. "High Water Everywhere" is an exciting slice of detective work, certainly.
*Nobody Knows Where the Blues Come From: Lyrics and History edited by Robert Springer (University Press of Mississippi, 2006), p. 42. Photo: Barnes, Louisiana, Madison Parish, May 25, 1927, Mississippi Department of Archives & History, 1927 Flood Photograph Collection.
Today's Rune: Journey.
I
was delighted to come across, recently, Nobody Knows Where the Blues Come From: Lyrics and History edited by Robert Springer (University Press of Mississippi, 2006). It's right up my alley, converging nicely with a fair amount of stuff relating to blues lyrics and history recently posted on Erik's Choice.
The Chapter Titles and Subtitles give a pretty good idea of what's inside this international collection of essays about the history and lyrics of blues music. Having just finished reading the whole book, I'll probably make a few pertinent observations in another post. Still absorbing.
HIGH WATER EVERYWHERE: Blues and Gospel Commentary on the 1927 Mississippi River Flood -- David Evans.
DEATH BY FIRE: African American Popular Music on the Natchez Rhythm Club Fire -- Luigi Monge.
LOOKIN' FOR THE BULLY: An Enquiry into a Song and Its Story -- Paul Oliver.
THAT DRY CREEK EASTON CLAN: A North Mississippi Murder Ballad of the 1930s -- Tom Freeland and Chris Smith.
COOLIDGE'S BLUES: African American Blues Songs on Prohibition, Migration, Unemployment, and Jim Crow -- Guido van Rijn.
ON THE ELECTRONIC TRAIL OF BLUES FORMULAS -- Robert Springer.
WEST INDIES BLUES: An Historical Overview, 1920s-1950s -- Blues and Music from the English-speaking West Indies -- John Cowley.
ETHEL WATERS: "Long, Lean, Lanky Mama" -- Randall Cherry.
Today's Rune: Wholeness.
Another pairing of St. Louis-based Chicago-recording blues singers Luella Miller and Signifying Mary Johnson. The first up, "Those Black Man Blues," was probably intended to be "funny," but there's no denying the bleakness of the second one, "East St. Louis Blues." Rendered here are my transcriptions in reverse chronological order: Mary Johnson (singing with Ike Rodgers on trombone and Henry Brown on piano), August 18, 1934; Luella Miller ("and Her Dago Hill Strutters"), April 26, 1927.
"Those Black Man Blues" by Mary Johnson (1934)
I got a black man in Chicago
And one in Detroit, too
But my black man in Louisiana
Lord he really just won't do.
Black man, black man
What do you want from me to do?
Black man, black man
What do you want from me to do?
I have given you all of my money
And that's all a poor woman can do.
Ah, my black man gives me the blues.
Lord I don't feel welcome
In Chicago anymore
Lord I don't feel welcome
In Chicago anymore
Because my black man has told me
He couldn't use me anymore.
I'm gonna take my black man to Louisiana
Down in New Orleans
I'm gonna take my black man to Louisiana
Down in New Orleans
Put the hoodoo women on him
Because he treats me so mean.
"East St. Louis Blues" by Luella Miller (1927)
East St. Louis to the river
River to the deep blue sea
East St. Louis to the river
River to the deep blue sea
I don't get my Daddy
I don't care what becomes of me.
I'm gonna take some poison
Maybe to kill myself
Take some poison
Maybe to kill myself
I don't get my Daddy
Don't want nobody else.
Every time that lonesome church bell tolls
Every time lonesome church bell tolls
Make me think about my mother
That is dead and gone.
Mmmmmmmmmmhhhh
Lord lord lord lord lord
Mmmmmmmmmmhhhh
Lord lord lord lord lord
I think about my mother
Maybe that's dead and gone.
Today's Rune: The Mystery Rune.
