Rockie Charles RIP

Posted by Senor Chubba :: March 12th, 2010 :: 1 Comment

The President of Soul is gone.

Video: Dave Bartholomew Interview / Honored for “Fat Man” on WWL TV

Posted by Senor Chubba :: March 6th, 2010 :: No Comments

Dave Bartholomew and Cosimo Matassa were awarded for their contributions to New Orleans music on the 60th anniversary of the historic “Fat Man” Fats Domino recording. The Louisiana State Museum and the Ponderosa Stomp Foundation held the ceremony in New Orleans on the steps of the historic Cabildo on March 6th, 2010.

Original Who Dat Video from 1983

Posted by Senor Chubba :: January 24th, 2010 :: No Comments

Still Life In Soul Opens Tomorrow

Posted by Andria Lisle :: November 5th, 2009 :: No Comments

Drop whatever you’re doing tomorrow, and head over to the Stax Museum of American Soul Music for a gander at Ponderosa Stomp photographer Jacob Blickenstaff’s brand new exhibit, “Still Life in Soul.”

If you’ve attended the Stomp in recent years, you’ve seen Blickenstaff at work. From performance shots to portraiture, he’s documented our mission in living color and in black-and-white. Now Blickenstaff has curated his favorite soul music shots — 40 in all — into a eye-catching, jaw-dropping exhibition that showcases the resurgence of American soul music. Lee Fields, Otis Clay, Barbara Lynn, the Mighty Hannibal, Barbara Lynn — they’re all there, alongside Stax artists Eddie Floyd, William Bell, Ben Cauley, and Skip Pitts.

The exhibition kicks off with an all-star opening party tomorrow night at 6 p.m. Be there or be square!

Go here for more info.

And go here to see more of Blickenstaff’s work.

Rocky and Carlos reopens after 94 year old founder Rocky Tommaseo passes

Posted by Senor Chubba :: October 30th, 2009 :: No Comments

Iconic restaurateur Rocky Tommaseo dies

Photo and video from NOLA.com, more on Rocky: Rocky and Carlo’s co-founder dies after fall.

From the Ponderosa Stomp Oral History Project: Joe Clay

Posted by Alison Fensterstock :: October 1st, 2009 :: No Comments

“That hillbilly music was so slow. It was music that was putting me to sleep. I had no clue what rockabilly was. It was just something that I felt, so that’s what I did.” – C.J. Cheramie, a.k.a. Joe Clay

Dr. Ike and I visited rockabilly wild man Joe Clay, a Rockabilly Hall of Famer and Ponderosa Stomp regular, at his home on New Orleans’ West Bank in the spring of 2007. In the hour-long interview below, listen to him discuss his anticlimactic pre-Elvis turn on the Ed Sullivan show, how he changed his name, and why Marrero’s Gay Paree nightclub was the hot spot for the New Orleans country and rockabilly scene in the 50’s.

Listen to the Joe Clay Oral History Interview

From the Ponderosa Stomp Oral History Project: William Bell

Posted by Alison Fensterstock :: October 1st, 2009 :: No Comments

William Bell performs at the Ponderosa Stomp at Lincoln Center\'s Midsummer Night Swing, 7/16/09.

Even after William Bell brought the Stax label one of its first hits, 1961’s “You Don’t Miss Your Water” – a song that would largely set the tone for the label’s signature Southern soul sound – he still remained on the fence about whether or not to ditch the recording business and go to medical school. At least, that’s what he told me during our live interview this past August at the Cutting Edge Music Business Conference.

Luckily, he didn’t (though our own Dr. Ike proves that medicine and rock n’roll aren’t mutually exclusive.) We’ve posted the audio from that interview below so you can hear one of the Stomp’s most popular returning performers discuss the rise and fall of Stax, the intense creative and political climate of Memphis in the 60’s, and how he happened to come to New Orleans to get a new sound.

Listen to the hour-long interview here:
William Bell Oral History Interview, 8/30/09

Rock ‘n’ Soul Ichiban!

Posted by Andria Lisle :: September 30th, 2009 :: 1 Comment

Whoa, WFMU’s Debbie D and company have gone bonkers over at the Rock ‘n’ Soul Ichiban site.

There are photos of Phil Spector, circa 1958, looking remarkably sedate. A picture of Tennessee Ernie Ford standing atop a pile of coal, advertising “Sixteen Tons.” A portrait of burlesque star Coco Barr brandishing a pair of pistols.

And, of course, there’s music galore: The Collins Kids, performing on the U.S. Air Force’s Country Music Time show. Big Star. Dexter Romweber. “The Patio Twist.” And an incredible live stream of “obscure ’50s and ’60s rock ‘n’ soul.” I’m listening to Huey Smith and the Clowns right now!

In other WFMU news, the Trashmen will be performing at the Record Fair, slated for Manhattan’s Metropolitan Pavilion on October 23rd, 24th and 25th!

Henry Gray: Scotlandville’s Quiet Blues Giant

Posted by Jeff Hannusch :: September 29th, 2009 :: 2 Comments

While Henry Gray has lived in the sleepy hamlet of Scotlandville, Louisiana, just north of Baton Rouge, for nearly 40 years, he is the obvious heir to the Chicago blues piano throne. Why, one might well ask? He gets the crown, via 25 years of playing in the Windy City during the golden age of Chicago blues. While he is best known for his lengthy tenure with Howlin’ Wolf, Gray also backed a virtual who’s who of legendary Chicago blues artists in the studio, and on the bandstand.

Gray’s style was, and still is, instantly recognizable. Rather than play chords like most of his contemporaries, Gray instead plays a busy cluster of notes on his right hand, overtop of the solid blues or boogie bass that he plays with his left hand. His style shone brightest on Wolf’s early 1960s recordings like, “Tail Dragger,” “Goin’ Down Slow” and “You’ll Be Mine.” But, even earlier, he enhanced Billy Boy Arnold’s, “I Wish You Would,” G. L. Crockett’s, “Look Out Mabel,” and Jimmy Rogers, “Blues All Day Long,” to name but a few.

Born January 19, 1923, at Kenner, La, he moved with his family to rural Alsen, La, when he was one year old. Little Henry began playing piano at the age of 10. He took formal lessons, but in 2002 he admitted, “There was no feeling in doing that.”

Gray’s parents were church-goers, and hoped their son would confine his playing to spirituals. However, at the age of 16 he was offered a job playing secular music at a local juke joint. Perplexed, his parents agreed when they realized their son was going to make a pocketful of money every night.

Gray had an aunt in Chicago, and in 1939, he visited her for a week. Taken aback by the active music scene there, he promised himself he’d soon be back. Unfortunately, WW II intervened and Gray found himself in the South Pacific until his honorable discharge in 1946.

“I was back in Louisiana a week and then took a train to Chicago,” said Gray. “My aunt was still there and I stayed with her a good while. I worked in a steel mill, but went to clubs at night. When I got there, I played with Big Bill Broonzy, Tampa Red and the Sonny Boy Williamson that got murdered.”

Gray would meed “Big” Maceo Merriweath, who became Gray’s biggest influence. He also hustled spare change with guys like Little Walter, playing music in Jew Town. In the early 1950s, he joined Little Hudson’s Shower’s Rain group which was a fixture at the Upstairs Lounge on the Southside.

In 1952, Gray entered the studio for the first time to accompany Jimmy Rodgers on his Chess recordings of, “Chicago Bound,” and “Blues All Day Long.”

“I went on the road with Jimmy,” said Gray. “He played with Muddy Waters. But when he had a record out that made a little noise, he’d leave and put a band together.”

The following year was a busy year for Gray as he backed Little Walter, Morris Pejoe and made his first solo recordings for the Checker label under the guise, “Little Henry,” The following year, he joined Little Walter’s Jukes on a cross country tour and recorded, “Who Will Be Next,” with Howlin’ Wolf, who had just recently moved north from Memphis.

The year 1955 remained a busy one for Gray as he split time between the Red Devil Trio and the Jukes. He also found time to record with Billy Boy Arnold—”I Wish You Would,” Jimmy Reed’s, “I Ain’t Got You,” and Jimmy Rodgers’, “Blues All Day Long.” Otis Spann was clearly Chess producer, Leonard Chess’, first choice on piano, but when Spann was on the road with Muddy Waters, Gray often got the call.

“I recorded with Junior Wells, Jimmy Reed, Billy Boy and Bo Diddley, but I was never part of their band,” specified Gray. “They saw me playing somewhere and asked me to make one of their sessions. Sometimes I’d make a gig with them if I could. Me, Spann and Little Johnnie Jones could work seven nights a week if we wanted to. Chicago was a piano players town back in the 1950s.”

In 1956, Gray only cut one session with Billy Boy Arnold at Vey Jay, but it marked the beginning of a 12 year tenure with Howlin’ Wolf.

“Wolf offered me more money than Walter so I went with him. He was quite strict but we got along okay. He had a .38, and I had a .38. You had to have one back then because we played in some pretty rough joints. Wolf was about business. Walter never was. Wolf bought the band uniforms—I had six different uniforms. Some musicians didn’t like Wolf telling them what to do and what to wear, but if it was your name out there, would you want a band behind you with their asses hanging out? He was professional and taught me a lot.

“Wolf was a good showman. He would crawl around on his hands and knees and drive the audience crazy. Hubert (Sumlin) was in the band when I joined. We played all over the south and west sides but we were the house band at Sylvio’s. When Wolf went on the road he took Hubert and left me to front the band because I could sing and hold a crowd.”

Gray played on scores of Wolf’s recordings and recalled they were arduous, often taking multiple takes, but occasionally quite humorous.

“Once he set his mind to doing something one way, it was had to get him to change,” said Gray. “We were in the studio cutting one of Willie Dixon’s songs, “Taildragger.” Wolf just couldn’t get the lyrics right. He kept singing, “I’m a tail dragger, I swipe out my tracks.” That just drove Leonard Chess crazy. He kept stopping us and yelling, ‘Damn Wolf. You don’t swipe out your tracks, you wipe out your tracks!’ It took over a dozen takes before Wolf got it right.”

Gray continued to pile up the studio credits, contributing brilliant piano backing on G. L. Crockett’s, “Look Out Mabel,” and Harold Burrage’s, “She Knocks Me Out.” In 1959, Gray brought a new sound to ensemble Chicago blues—at least in clubs—the electric piano.

“It was a Wurlitzer,” said Gray. “I played it through a Fender Bassman (amplifier). I got tired of playing torn up, out-of-tune pianos and playing around the bad notes. The worst was when we played clubs behind Muddy Waters. Spann destroyed pianos because he played so hard. He used to split the hammers on the piano some nights and they’d be all over the floor. I never recorded on the electric piano though because that wasn’t the sound the studios were looking for.”

In the early 1960s, most of Gray’s studio dates were in support of Howlin’ Wolf at Chess, although he took on an occasional outside session. In 1968, Wolf and Gray—two men with strong personalities parted forever.

“I had a few drinks one night and I was tired of Wolf’s petty bullshit,” said Gray. “I didn’t need the money, because I was getting a pension from the army. The day after I quit, I took the train back to Louisiana.”

After he got back to Louisiana, he picked up sporatic work plying music with Slim Harpo, Raful Neal, Silas Hogan and Tabby Thomas, but to make ends meet, Gray drove a bulldozer and worked as a roofer. In 1970, Lazy Lester took him to Crowley, Louisiana, where he recorded the spectacular single, “Lucky Lucky Man/You’re My Midnight Dream.” (This would make Gray the only musician to work under probably the three greatest blues record producers ever—Leonard Chess, Willie Dixon and J. D. Miller. The single alerted the world that Gray was still in the game. He was soon after recorded by Arhoolie and Blue Horizon, who put together Louisiana Blues anthologies. In the mid-1970s, Gray made the first of over 30 trips to Europe. In 1987, he made his first solo album, “They Call Me Little Henry,” which appeared on the German Blue Beat label. His first solo American album, “Lucky Man,” was released on Blind Pig in 1988. By then, Gray was a fixture on the American and European blues festival circuit, and a particular favorite at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival.

Now in his mid-80s, Gray remains very active and is enjoying the release of a new CD, “Times Are Gettin’ Harder,” issued on the Lucky Cat label. If you’re interested in checking out a legend, or hearing some authentic blues, Henry Gray will be appearing at the Ogden Museum October 15, 2009.

Scene Report: The Jack Johnson Memorial Dance at the VFW in Starks

Posted by Lakeview Kid :: September 28th, 2009 :: 3 Comments

I had just purchased six piping-hot, 8-inch rice-and-porkers at the Sausage Link on old U.S. 90 in Sulphur, Looziana, when I glanced down at the newspaper rack by the exit door and spied a surprisingly familiar sight in this almost-alien swampland. Had I drunk too much beer at the Kaw-Liga bar down the road, where I had eavesdropped on the locals debating whether an actual wildcat had killed old man Guidry’s horse? Or was I really seeing what I was seeing?

The cover of the freebie magazine on the rack featured the photo of a man gripping sticks from behind a drum kit, namely “Lightning Mitchell” of Lake Charles, with the headline reading: “He’s Been Jamming With the Legends for Over 60 Years. Now He’s Chilling With Us.” I shamefully did not recall having heard of Mitchell before, but the article informed me that he was the drummer on Phil Phillips’ immortal “Sea of Love” and Boozoo Chavis’ pioneering zydeco landmark, “Paper in My Shoe,” and had played with the likes of Katie Webster and Lil’ Alfred.

But what had made me do my surprised double take was the striking poster on the wall behind Lightning: “Mystic Knights of the Mau-Mau.” It was the Ponderosa Stomp poster for Year #2 (2003), with its roll call of legendary names like Billy “Boy” Arnold, Jody Williams, Henry Gray, and all those usual suspects. You had better bet your ducktails that Lightning Mitchell is a fan of the Ponderosa Stomp—and vice versa.

I was on my way to the VFW Hall in Starks, LA., near the Texas border, for a star-studded and certainly very Stomp-like bill: Warren Storm, Willie “Tee” Trahan, Tommy McLain, TK Hulin, and Charles Mann. The occasion for such an illustrious lineup was the Jack W. Johnson Memorial Dance. Jack had been a trumpet player for Louisiana Express, one of the go-to backing bands used by all the swamp-pop legends, such as those playing this show, as well as Lil’ Alfred, Johnnie Allan, and many others.

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I had phoned the promoter a week before to reserve tickets and a table. My call all the way from New Orleans had no doubt jolted the late Jack Johnson’s brother, Don, who was producing the show in Jack’s memory. After all, it’s no hop, skip, and a jump from the Old Gumbo to the Sabine River. I was slightly worried that Don would view my citified status with suspicion, a la that famous scene from “Easy Rider,” when the xenophobic small-town guy in the diner notes disdainfully to his country compatriots: “Check the flag on that bike.”

But at the VFW Hall, after Warren Storm informed me that Don wanted to meet the guy who had come all the way from the Crescent to Calcasieu, my trepidation immediately dissipated. Don took one look at the tricked-out embroidered rooster ballcap on my head, smiled, and held up a hand to reveal a scar running at least 7 inches from his palm up his arm. “Steel-spurred rooster got me 20 years ago,” he revealed with a twinkle in his eye. Pumping his scarred right mitt, I knew then that Don and I were 100% simpatico.

And as the music started, we were immediately transported back to the late 1950s, when the U.S. dollar was as good as gold and swamp pop was king. The VFW Hall was jammed with booted, cowboy-hatted, and Hawaiian-shirted dudes and their dates, who were dressed to the nines and smelling like perfume factories, drowning out the faint industrial reek of nearby Sulphur and Lake Charles. This was the hottest ticket in town. The only minor disappointment of the night was that our reserved seating at a long row of tables was so packed with Cajun and Texan flesh that we opted to stand for most of the night just offstage near the merchandise table, around which the headliners were seated like so many Cabinet secretaries or heads of the five New York famiglias. So though we mostly stood, we were near enough to touch the hems of their godlike garments.

And moving away from the hoi polloi’s tables might have been a lifesaving strategy. With so many rabid dancers coming and going as the band shifted gears in rapid-fire succession from belly-rubbers to jitterbuggers, sitting in those crowded aisles might have been deadlier than a Who arena show marred by trampling casualties. So dense was the stampede back and forth from tables to dancefloor that I could almost hear the mounted Cajun cowboy’s cry of “Hippy Ti Yo!” riding herd on the rug-cutters running furiously pell-mell to relive their youths with every frenzied dance step.

Anyone familiar with the Ponderosa Stomp needs no introduction to the legends who graced the stage at the Starks VFW that night. Tommy McLain, the benevolent leprechaun-like John the Baptist figure in a frosty-white beard, still singing with the voice of an angel after all these years. Charles “Red Red Wine” Mann, emoting intensely on-stage like a cross between Jerry Lee’s preacher cousin Jimmy Swaggart and soul master Otis Redding. Willie “Tee”, a gentle bear of man with a Satchmo-like gravelly voice and a growling sax. TK Hulin, whose uncannily youthful rock-star looks and authoritative Tom Jones aura fuel his nonstop dynamic stage presence as he belts out the unforgettable chorus to “Alligator Bayou”: “I’m a good-time, hard-lovin’ Cajun man.” Truer words were never spoken. And then, certainly the Caucasian equivalent of Lazy Lester in the Ponderosa Stomp pantheon of music giants: Warren Storm, who can dub himself “The Godfather of Swamp Pop Music” without anyone batting an eye, so deep is the stentorian soulfulness of his bayou wail and pleading, tremelo-like vocal quaver. At 70-something, we can forgive him for not pounding the skins that night. We also don’t bat an eye at the notion of driving practically to the Sabine River Turnaround to see this atomic bomb from Abbeville delivering the goods one more time.

And let’s not forget the backing band, Cypress, who brought .44 Magnum musical firepower to befit the occasion—and each member a card-carrying coonass to boot. Many touring swamp-pop legends find themselves stuck with mediocre pickup bands playing without benefit of rehearsal. Not Cypress. Honing their chops as Storm and Tee’s regular outfit on at least eight gigs a month, these minstrels are well-versed with the stars’ material as well as each other. Composed of two relatively youngish bucks on bass and drums (Scott Broussard and Kyle Dugas) and two more seasoned veterans on keyboard and guitar (Karl Bordelon and Tommy Richard), the Cypress band galloped along like a frisky quarterhorse at a Cajun bush track—a sure bet at any big race. Bordelon even picked up the trumpet on occasion to sound a few Gabriel’s notes, no doubt as the night’s honoree, Jack Johnson, smiled down from Swamp Pop Heaven.

As the evening wore down, it got to be crying time again as we paused to reflect on Jack Johnson. Over muffled tears and blinding flashbulbs, we took pictures of Jack’s survivors posing with a framed portrait of the trumpeter that had been signed by all the swamp-pop legends on the bill. Through whiskied breath I tried to coax some smiles out of the siblings, reminding them that this was Jack’s party and he would want the occasion to be a festive one. They did their best to comply.

And though the show was almost over, Warren Storm had one more special performance to give: He spent a good 20 minutes reading off the winning numbers for the parade-of-prizes raffle tickets that had been sold. At my request, he even read off a few numbers in his native French tongue. This is a musician who—if there were any justice in this stinking world—will be enshrined in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, along with the rest of his swamp-popping peers, and there he was reading off the winning digits at the Starks VFW before launching into his final set and driving back to Lafayette in the wee hours. That’s the utter epitome of class and showmanship.

What a scintillatingly brilliant night of music it had been, yet there was still one more little divine pot of gold waiting at the end of this rainbow: the Lucky Longhorn motel in Vinton, an arm of the Texas Longhorn Club complex. Part truck stop, part motel, part restaurant, part casino, part laundromat, this cozy little oasis just off I-10 can meet every weary swamp-pop fan’s traveling needs. And with your choice of shower or Jacuzzi, you’ll find more than a little lucky respite there as you lay down to sleep and dream those “Sweet Dreams” of your next magical musical mystery tour. Talk about a happy ending. Yeah you right, baby.