Monday, February 7, 2011

Is This The End of the Blues: Part II

Good Morning fellow bloggers and readers of life.  Apparently my last blog touched a nerve.

I deleted my last blog (dated February 6th re. the demise of the blues and Claudette King's live performance at Biscuits and Blues) per a request from a dear friend who of course I never meant to impact in a negative way.  I owe my friend--he was the only person who visited me in San Bruno County Jail back in 1988.  He spoke to me through chicken wire during that visit because he forgot his ID; he spent his last dime to get to there; and he never stopped believing in me when I was strung out on heroine, unlike other musicians who treated me as if I had a large dose of plague. This friend, of whom I speak, in my opinion has touches of real brilliance. After all, he can cruise through complicated charts without missing a lick, can embellish a sliding note like Cropper himself, and has a blues vocabulary that most guitar players would sell their soul for.  What I wrote should not cost him--he is a believer in Claudette's project.

Besides, Claudette King is just an example within a much larger subject: IS THIS THE END OF THE BLUES?

But perhaps it is necessary now and again to keep from going insane to tell it like it is. No one tells the truth anymore in print--it's all whitewashed--made to smell a certain way even though it should not.  Or the truth is excused through silence--a door gets quietly closed.  And the price is that people lose their instincts for the truth--and then it becomes very upsetting--perhaps even shocking.

Now to set the record straight I will say this:  my friend who is in the band I wrote about has said nothing negative re. Claudette King.  Nothing whatsoever.  In fact he was and is thrilled to have a chance to play the material on her CD, and he believes that because Claudette has her own voice, she will emerge undaunted and unscathed to become a better singer and performer.  After all--it ain't easy being a daughter of THE greatest living bluesman.  You really can't win in terms of his contribution or his talent if you end up in a comparison of any kind.  And to set the record straight, Claudette needs mentoring.  She DOES have her own voice--and that is very, very important.  And she has feeling.  So girl, get up, stand up, and do what you need to do to become your dream.  But you have to pay some dues.  It took me a decade or more before I realized that my own high notes had to go--and even though musicians thought it--they never said it.  I had to develop so I could hear it myself--those notes and high licks simply had no place in the music.  I, too, am guilty of a squeaky high note.  The point is to learn.

And to be fair, we should all remember that BB King came into his own during a time in musical history where talent had a real chance to flourish in spite of racism and American pop stupidity.  The 1950's was a time of immense opportunity simply because people still listened and danced to live music--and live music was everywhere--rent house parties, clubs up and down the street, places to play even in the back alleys in little southern towns.

And back then we had the great arrangers, the great engineers--and we had the great producers.  We still had people that could hear talent. It was a time unsurpassed.


But if we expect quality to re-emerge in this great art form of blues, someone somewhere is going to have to stop the bullshitting.

I remember in 1996 Paris Slim told me a tale that has stayed with me my whole adult life.  We were sitting at Johnny Ace's kitchen table on 18th street in San Francisco and Johnny and I listened with rapt attention as Frank (Paris) told us about of a guy who was a stock broker from the east coast. This guy invented an entire biography about himself and sold it to the public in large glossy blues rag ads.  He told the public that he had grown up in Oakland, California and was a dear friend of Joe Lewis Walker, and that he was black (he was actually from the middle east). He then proceeded to spend a great deal of money to get good musicians to back him and he bought an agent--yes--BOUGHT AN AGENT!  And by god this guy had a career in blues.  And Joe Lewis Walker never told anyone that he never met the guy.  Interesting isn't it?  And the best (worst) part about this story is that the guy could barely play or sing.  AND NO ONE KNEW.

At what point does the music matter and the not the buck?  At what point does a promoter consider talent as the first necessity in this blues business?  And how much money does it take to get a record heard--and why does it take money?   How many talented artists are being shoved under the carpet in trade for something else like a name from a blue bloodline--or better yet--just a big favor?

I think these are all valid questions

Do you know that a certain blues magazine in Los Angeles had the nerve to tell a musician freind of mine that if he spent $1,000 bucks, he could have an article written about him in their rag?

Overt isn't it?

I want to believe that taste in blues still exists--I want to belive that there are people out there that would put the talent before the buck.  I want to see young or new talent cultivated and mentored appropriately.

In my next blog I will tell you all a very sad tale of  how back in 1987 I was "mentored" out by a certain Deacon Jones who hooked me up with "The Hook" himself, John Lee Hooker.  The experience almost destroyed me:  "Cathy, let me handle the drugs--you just sing."

It will give new meaning to word "pimp!"  And it will illustrate my point as to why this all needs to change.