Ponderosa Stomp fans know that the most magical sounds often emanate from the most primitive of conditions. Take, for instance, the flood of hits that flowed from the legendary 15-by-16-foot hole in the wall that comprised Cosimo Matassa’s original J&M recording studio on Rampart Street. The same with Eddie Shuler’s tiny Goldband studio, which he opened in the rear of his TV repair shop in Lake Charles. The landmark songs recorded in just those two Looziana incubators – like Antoine Domino’s “The Fat Man,” Guitar Slim’s “The Things I Used to Do,” and Phil Phillips’ “Sea of Love” – mesmerize listeners almost because of their technical limitations, not in spite of them.
Jivin' Gene Bourgeois
Likewise, Jivin’ Gene, aka Gene Bourgeois, of Port Arthur, Texas, began his ascent to swamp-pop immortality by singing in the toilet. Not his greatest hit, “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do,” but rather the equally swampy “Going Out With the Tide,” later covered by another Meaux protégé, Freddy Fender (here in a duet with Tommy McLain).
“He walked in with blue jeans and bare feet and kinda like Clark Kent’s version of Superman, with horn-rimmed glasses. And he wanted me to record his rock ‘n’ roll band. I told him I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but if he wanted to bring his band in, let’s get down to it. In the KPAC studio there was an old Magnecord in mono – you never heard of stereo in those days – and two pots and a toilet in the corner of the room. And he had to sing in the toilet. I had a big old RCA ribbon mike, a diamond-shaped thing, and I hung it up on the boom and put my amplifiers in a horseshoe shape. The drums had to be way back. I thought I was gonna have to put them out in the street before it was over ‘cause it was getting too loud. I called [Ville Platte’s Jin label owner] Floyd [Soileau], saying, ‘I think this guy has potential.’”
Soileau would release “Going Out With the Tide” as Jin 109 (backed with “Up, Up, and Away”), and it became a regional hit. Bourgeois confirms the story, but with a different twist. “Yeah, I really did sing in the shitter. But it was because I was so shy, I didn’t want anyone looking at me when I sang,” he told the 30 Days Out blogger.
In a separate post, 30 Days Out writes about the sonic effects of the commode in creating the plaintive swamp-pop sound (though apparently confusing “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do” with “Going Out With the Tide”):
“My favorite Gene story was about the time they recorded ‘Breaking Up Is Hard To Do’ at KPAC radio studios in Port Arthur. Gene used to get stage fright when he sang, even when the audience was only his band and a producer. So Huey stuck Gene in the men’s room along with a microphone and turned out the lights. The great echo you hear on the song came from that location – and it became a trademark of the great Texas-Meets-Louisiana swamp rock sound. Every time I think of Port Arthur, that tune begins to play in my brain: ‘Breaking up is hard to doooooooo/Making up is the thing to doooooooo.’”
Meaux and Soileau then booked a recording session for Jivin’ Gene at Jay Miller’s storied studio in Crowley, La., and it was there that Gene cut the definitive version of his most famous tune, “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do,” which hit #69 on the Billboard charts in 1959. According to Soileau:
“It was about Gene’s wife problems. We did a Fats Domino-type thing and put the record out. Right away Huey started getting airplay on it in East Texas, and I got airplay on it down in this area, and things started happening. And Bill Hall still had his eyes open, and we made a deal with him to get it in on Mercury Records. And as a result his Big Bopper Music got the publishing on the original sides and that was his compensation. And Huey managed the artist and I had the record label and the record company, so I had my compensation. We had a three-way thing going there for a while, and Mercury took on with Jivin’ Gene and did fairly well with him.”
Gene went on to do further recording for Mercury, mostly in Nashville, even redoing a version of “Going Out With the Tide” – cum violins – that made The Cash Box listings in 1960. However, somewhere in the process the “swamp” got taken out of the swamp pop. As Warren Storm, whose own Nashville recordings sound slightly castrated compared with his Louisiana-recorded oeuvre, would tell Shane Bernard in “Swamp Pop: Cajun and Creole Rhythm and Blues” about his Music City studio experience:
“Oh yeah. It wasn’t swamp pop. It was more pop than anything else. … It was the Nashville sound, that’s where it was. Nashville. … It was mechanical because it was the Nashville sound. All the records that came out of there, it was the same music background.”
(Apparently Nashville producers found little need to turn to the outhouse as an acoustical accoutrement, what with Floyd Cramer, Boots Randolph, and Chet Atkins in house at any given time.)
Bourgeois would later record for Chess, Hall-Way, and TCF-Hall into the 1960s before dropping out of music for almost 20 years and working as an insulator – reportedly even plying his trade on the Alaskan pipeline like so many other Cajuns who have found work around the globe in the petroleum industry both on- and offshore. [See author Woody Falgoux's "Rise of the Cajun Mariners."]
By the 1980s, nostalgia for the past took hold, and the accolades began to pour in. Gene was inducted in 1993 into the Louisiana Hall of Fame (Lou Gabus’ precursor to the current hall) and the Museum of the Gulf Coast Music Hall of Fame in 1995, and he received the Louisiana Hall of Fame Living Legend Award in June 2003.
Jivin' Gene Bourgeois sings at a 2004 benefit at Pat's in Henderson, La.
In recent years Gene has joined forces with fellow East Texan Ken Marvel, a keyboardist and singer whose working band provides able backing for Bourgeois on his semi-regular gigs. However, as a bandleader in his own right, Marvel is not content, like so many other groups, to merely recycle the golden swamp-pop oldies in letter-perfect, note-for-note renditions. Yes, he pays tribute to the masters, but on his two CDs (“Mr. Swamp Pop” and “Swamp Pop Music”) Marvel has actually written numerous well-crafted original songs with mature themes, sung with passion and earnestness. And it doesn’t hurt that he uses a crack coonass band for his recording sessions (including Warren Storm, Wayne Toups, Jon Smith, Pat Breaux, Jason Parfait, Steve Grisaffe, Tony Ardoin, and Mike Burch, among others). Be sure to catch Marvel playing around East Texas’ Golden Triangle area or else at his occasional Louisiana appearances.
No longer reliant on the porcelain gods for acoustical succor, Jivin’ Gene has reunited with Floyd Soileau’s Jin label with a new CD, “It’s Never Too Late,” recorded at David Rachou’s La Louisianne studio in Lafayette and released in 2009. Gene wrote or co-wrote nearly every cut on the 14-song CD and is backed by Warren Storm on drums and rubboard, Ken Marvel on keys, and Rick Folse (son of legendary Vin Bruce band alumnus Pott Folse) on sax, among others.
Don’t miss Jivin’ Gene at this year’s Ponderosa Stomp. To buy tickets, click here. To learn more about this swamp-pop legend, read this and this.
Jivin' Gene's 2009 release on the Jin label, featuring his original songs and drumming by Warren Storm
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.
Describing his first encounter with Bourgeois, the notorious producer Huey “Crazy Cajun” Meaux told John Broven in “South to Louisiana”: 
While 
