DVD Reviews: Two of the America’s Music Legacy Series, Part 4: Folk, Dixieland Jazz

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2011
Images from the Internet

Part 4: This is just two of a series of six DVDs that have been released to promote a collection of television specials from the 1980s that highlight specific genres of music, with each disc focusing on a one at a time. Note that links to other performances are not present on these compilations.


America’s Music Legacy: Folk
Directed by Kip Walton
Cube International / Century Home Video, 1983 / 2010
120 minutes, USD $16.95
Cubeinternational.com
Qleap.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

To be honest, along with the rock and roll one of this series, previously reviewed in this blog, the Folk genre is the one I have been looking forward to the most, and it certainly did not disappoint.

If this were recorded in this present time of the singer-songwriter, it would have been a completely different collection, but for the period it was, the scene was leaning more towards traditional folk. There’s no Dylan, Collins, Ochs, Havens, but they present a solid compilation of live performances by some top of their game artists.

Part of the reason for the level of traditional present here is due to the person who is both hosting and performing. Theodore Bikel is co-founder of the Newport Folk Festival, where Dylan would one day infamously go electric, and who I had the honor to see play at Kingsborough Community College in Brooklyn, around 1975. As is common in this series, as the host, he tells the story of folk music, and he gets to sing, but more on that later.

Opening the first of the two edited-together shows is ex-Limeliters singer Glenn Yarborough. He has a distinctive high tenor voice with a Melanie-esque vibrato. Yarborough starts with the light British ballad “Molly,” and goes into a rambunctious telling of “Frankie and Johnny” (you know, “Frankie and Johnny were lovers…”; a lot of British folk songs are about the death of a loved one, be it through murder [e.g., “Down By the River”], war [“Bonny Light Horseman”], or heartbreak [“Barbara Allen”], it seems). His version of this well-worn traditional piece has a high jazz percentage mixed in. Being an oral tradition, folk is open for many interpretations. Unfortunately, he pushes it arguable a bit too far when he returns later in the program doing a totally disco-ized “You Are My Reason.” I had no problem with Dylan going electric, but this is just bad for its own sake. Feh.

Buffy St.-Marie is from Saskatchewan, where I am currently living, and along with Joni Mitchell, she is highly regarded here. It’s no wonder, as the woman has many talents. I’d seen her on the Music Scene television show from the late ‘60s, doing an extremely earnest version of her “Universal Soldier.” Time moves on, and here she starts off with “Cripple Creek,” in traditional First Nations style. She sings while playing a large mouth harp string instrument in a wonderfully dexterous way (there is a small b-roll clip in the trailer, below). This is followed up by the modernized traditional “Starwalker,” which is distinctly Buffy St.-Marie, and shows of the range of her amazing voice. She is such a joy to watch on this program.

From profound to the perky as we are presented with the New Main Street Sing… I mean, the New Christy Minstrels. They open with “Charlottetown” (listed on the clamshell as “Liza Jane”) with the cheery chorus, “Charlottetown is burning down / Goodbye, goodbye.” Happy times. While the TNCM have amazing harmonies, they seem a bit soulless and totally whitebread and whitewashed, a folk equivalent of bland gospel, televangelist style. They may have done better with “Oh, Let Me Fly.” Think I’ll stick to “The Good Book Song” parody (youtube.com/watch?v=G_OJsO8xnRQ&feature=related). They come back later and do an upbeat (no surprise there) “Green, Green,” and a medley of six standards, including “I Dream of Jeannie,” “Camptown Races,” and “Oh Susannah.”

Luckily, the show is redeemed once again by Odetta (d. 2008), who I saw do a powerful set at the Calgary Music Festival in 1994. The power of the woman’s tone alone could slay a dragon. Most of her material has a strong gospel feel without a hit of patronizing. As she strums her guitar, incense stuck into the neck burns away. She also shows what a medley can be, combining “House of the Rising Sun,” “Old House,” and a touch of “Goodnight Irene,” all with a mournful quality.

Unfortunately, Hoyt Axton (d. 1999) will probably be remember more for his role in the film Gremlins than for the writing of his music, much of which has become cultural lynchpins, such as “Joy to the World” and “Never Been to Spain” (heck, his mom co-wrote Elvis’s “Heartbreak Hotel”). But it was his lesser known (by much of my crowd, anyway) folk and country material that touch me the most. Here he does two of his own songs, starting with the great “Greenback Dollar” (original covered by the Kingston Trio, but a fine version was released by the Washington Squares). The other is a song about cocaine (surprised this one made it passed the censor in the early ‘80s) called “Della and the Dealer.” His rough-hewn voice is perfect for this material.

Introduced by Buffy St.-Marie, host Bikel takes the stage. He has a distinctive European patter to his voice that adds a flavor to his sound. He once did a great turn with Judy Collins dueting “Greenland Fisheries”: youtube.com/watch?v=s7ZxnhZ0Fig. Here, he starts of with a stirring and zippy version of Phil Och’s “There But For Fortune.” Sadly, he follows this up with Jim Croce’s lame “Time in a Bottle” (as Kenne Highland once wrote in a song: “Jim Croce’s records never sold / But when he died they all turned gold”). My guess is Bikel was trying to show old school and (then) new, binding them together.

Speaking of really old school, the Blue Fame String Band presents some Appalachian style traditional sounds with “Aunt Caroline Dyer Blues,” using banjo, fiddle, two acoustic guitars, and an electric bass. This is the type of stuff Alan and John Lomax brought into the popular culture mindset, with images of fog on the mountainside, and moonshine, perhaps.

The first part ends with everyone coming back to the stage and singing Woody Guthrie’s (does any really need the last name?) “This Land is Your Land,” which Bikel refers to as “the unofficial national anthem of folk music.”

While Glenn Yarborough was once a member of the Limeliters, who hail from San Francisco, he is not included in the trio as the group starts of the second part. There are two original members, and a new third that picks up the high tenor gap Glenn left behind. Their first is a rousing version of a rousing song, “There’s A Meeting Here Tonight,” followed by Woody’s “Traveling Wayfarin’ Stranger” and the Weavers’ “Lonesome Traveler.” The trio have really close harmonies, with which they play with the melodies and the pacing in very entertaining ways.

Described as “a man, his guitar, and his talent,” Josh White Jr. proves he is quite the talent without familial associations (and yet he seems to be forever in his father’s shadow). Josh is backed by just his fingersnapping in the first tune, the spiritual a capella “I’ve Been Down” (“I’ve been down so long / getting up never crossed by mind”). With his guitar, he performs the playfully upbeat style blues of “Where Were You Baby When My Heart Went Out.”

While he may be blind, Doc Watson is a top finger-picker (no, I don’t have any idea what one has to do with the other, any more than he is from North Carolina). Also unrelated, in Watson’s intro, Bikel manages to give an indirect slam to electric music, i.e., Dylan and rock). But I digress… Getting back to Doc, he is an old-tyme country player, Woody-style, starting off with a lively cover of the moving “Fix Me a Pallet,” followed by the classic I-IV-V rhythm of “I Got the Blues.”

Bringing us back to the Appalachian Olde-English-based subgenre is music historian (and musician) Jean Ritchie, of Kentucky. With dulcimer in hand, she wails “March Down to Old Tennessee.” I particularly liked the very short background or description she gives explaining how it was illegal for women to dress like men, as in the next song, “They Call Me Jackero.” Of course, there are lots of songs of women following men into battle, such as “500 Miles” and the aforementioned “Bonny Light Horseman.” In this case, the protagonist fights beside her love and saves his life.

Dave von Ronk (d. 2002) is such a dynamic performer, it’s no wonder he mentored other great musicians such as Christine Lavin. As a leader of the urban folk movement (Dylan, Ochs, etc.), this Brooklynite belts some jazz blues with “Sunday Street,” for which he refers to himself as a “city-billy.” His second piece, “Garden State,” has a Brel-ish melody, while he shouts out the lyrics, consisting only of the names of towns in New Jersey (in rhyme, yet).

A jug band, led by Mary McCaslin and Jim Ringer, sails through the country bluegrass (I did say jug band, y’know) “Sunday Street.” Jim does all the singing and she plays, but for some reason, she still has a mic. Just an observation; go figure. They are quite joyous.

With a John Hartford (he would have been good to have here) banjo-pickin’ singing-talking style, John McEuen (of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band) plays “Old Man From Missouri,” only he mixes it up a bit with traditional stirred with a more modernized tone. Then he starts playing real fast. Punk banjo anyone?

To finish off as the second set began, the Limeliters come back for “That’s Just the Way It Goes,” giving it a modern klezmer twist.

There was a lot to enjoy in this collection, and it’s easy to recommend to any folker. And yet, there are so many others I would have loved to have seen, like Joe & Eddie (in clips, as Joe died in an accident in ’66; youtube.com/watch?v=WBo-SSVNw-g&feature=related), The Allen-Ward Trio (youtube.com/watch?v=c2gAuSGyDmQ), and Dana & Brown, among so many others, but that’s just me dreaming and being unrealistic about the time allotted, I guess…


* * *


America’s Music Legacy: Dixieland Jazz
Directed by Kip Walton
Cube International / Century Home Video, 1983 / 2010
95 minutes, USD $16.95
Cubeinternational.com
Qleap.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

What is the difference between jazz and Dixieland jazz? The latter is a mix of Spanish, French, Caribbean and African influences. It also relies heavily on brass and woodwinds, and is generally an upbeat sound. Once a perennial Mardi Gras parade member, host and trumpeter Al Hirt (d. 1999) describes it as “happy music,” though it does share some of the blues.

The sound is not as common now as when I was growing up, as jazz has become more codified, even in its freedom of expression. Just the white hair on so many of the musicians on this two-edited-into-one musical extravaganza shows that it is a sound that may have passed its time, like the related big band swing. I’m not saying it’s gone, just that it’s not as prevalent as it used to be. But again, as Hirt states proudly, referring to this music, “The south will rise again.”

The musicians used throughout this program is called the New Orleans Jazz All-Star Band, made up of Hirt’s and Woody Herman’s back-up, including at times such jazz luminaries as Bobby Havens, Eddie Miller, Ray Leatherwood, Gene Estes, Michael “Peanuts” Hucko, Ray Sherman, Fred Crane, Edward Huntington, and Colin Bailey.

Woody Herman and his band open up the show with a stirring “Jazz Me Blues” and “Basin Street Blues,” upbeat numbers with a rousing clarinet. As with most of numbers here, it is common for the lead musician to give way to the others in the band for a chance to shine. Dixieland is very magnanimous that way (and jazz tends to be in general; you really need to know what you’re doing and be able to improvise to play it well).

Much of the music and dialog revolve around trumpeter Louis Armstrong (d. 1971). Also known as Satchmo, or just Pops, he was a New Orleans native who brought the sound to the world in the 1920s. In later years, though, he moved to Queens, NY, and is buried there. Hirt reads off a short but informative bio of Armstrong, and shows some photos and clips.

It only makes sense that one of his musical offspring, instrumentalist Clora Bryant, a killer trumpeter in her own right. She plays “When It’s Sleepytime Down South,” a ballad she dedicates to Louis. Following is an interview clip of her describing the time she met Satchmo, who gave her a trumpet that she still owns.

Whipping up a fast-as-lightening banjo is Scotty Plummer (d. 1992 in a motorbike accident), who plays hardcore punk-speed Dixieland. The two instrumental tunes he strums, the standard “Waiting for the Robert E. Lee” and “The World is Waiting for the Sunrise,” almost sound like bumblebees surrounding the melody as his hand moves up and down so fast they’re a blur. He had quite the incredible technique.

Jazz-angel (sorry) Della Reese proves she’s more than an actress in a (gratefully gone) sappy television program, as she jazzes up and bops Irving Berlin’s “Blue Skies.” As fine as she is here, I enjoyed her second number, “The Man with a Horn,” a bluesy ballad accompanied by Hirt, much more. With “Horn,” she shows off more of her range and musical emotion.

Hirt finally does a lead with the chestnut “Bill Bailey,” joined by his quartet (stand-up bass, drum, piano), each of whom get a solo. After a brief film clip of Hirt describing his life and career, he actually sings on “Bourbon Street Paradise.” His voice is gravelly and raw, and sounds great to this style.

Playing a jellyroll associated with the likes of Scott Joplin and Fats Waller is Johnny Guarnieri (d. 1985), who is sort of the Carol Kaye (bassist of the famed Wrecking Crew) of the big band era, playing on thousands of recordings. Here he plays terrific versions of Joplin’s classic “Maple Leaf Rag” and Waller’s “Ain’t Misbehavin’.”

Where there is Dixieland, can “When the Saints Go Marching In” be far behind? Hirt and Woody Herman fulfill the necessity with a rousing rendition.

Bob Crosby (yes, the youngest brother of Bing; d. 1993) joins his old swing band, the Bobcats, for their big hits, “March of the Bobcats” and “Big Noise From Winnetka,” the latter which started as an improv way back when, before it was put to 78 rpm.

The married couple of Jim and Marsha Hession, aka The Hessions, follow a clip of Eubie Blake (who, like George Burns, died shortly after is 100th birthday). JIm plays a killer piano, and Marsha sings in a high, operatic voice. It’s quite lovely and she is able to reach four octaves, but at the same time I found it kind of disconcerting and forced (as operatic voices tend to be). They open with a lively version of Waller’s “This Joint is Jumpin’.”

Hirt is back with his band doing a jazz rendition of “Someday You’ll Be Sorry.” It’s a bit meandering in the way jazz can be, and it still swings. Again, everyone gets space to do their own thing.

At long last, Scatman Crothers (d. 1986) gets his chance. The man is more than a musician, he is a performer, and I’ve been a fan for a number of years (as I’ve stated in a previous review for this series). He plays with the audience for his comedic “The Gal Looks Good.” The song is more Harlem blues, and he shows off his amazing talent as he strums his guitar and, of course, scats.

Not to be confused with jazz musician Ted Buckner, jazz musician Teddy Buckner continues the Harlem-esque sound with the ballad “Struttin’ With some Barbeque,” which naturally leads into the swinging “Please Don’t Talk About Me When I’m Gone.” These songs would sound as comfortable in New Orleans as it would at the Cotton Club.

There is a full song clip, and rightfully so, of Fats Waller (d. 1943) performing his stride piano to his own “Honeysuckle Rose,” while a bevy of beauties lounge around him, Busby Berkeley bathing beauties style. Waller tended to lean towards comic, but he was highly talented as both a performer and writer. On the younger side relatively to the rest of this collection, and with some of the biggest hair (it was the ‘80s, y’know), is pianist Judy Carmichael. She plays a wild stride piano in a post-ragtime style, picking up on an instrumental version of Waller’s “Honeysuckle Rose” as the clip of him playing the same song ends. A joy to watch, indeed.

The New Orleans All-Star Jazz Band comes out and does the biggest jazz standard of the Roaring ‘20s, “Tiger Rag” (you would probably know it if you heard it). The way the song is played here, which is actually quite raucous, is based on the trombone as the central instrument, with Bobby Havens doing physical playing that is reminiscent more of Hendrix than Higginbotham. Quite smile-worthy

The last original artist up is Irma Thomas, who Hirt describes as “The Queen of New Orleans Soul.” She starts off singing her first recording from 1960, the humorous blues “(You Can Have My Husband But) Don’t Mess with My Man.” Her voice is deep, throaty, and honeyed (but not flinty). Hirt joins her in the second song, “Do You Know What it Means,” a love song to New Orleans, all the more poignant now, nearly 30 years later after Katrina, since there are film clips shown of the city shown as they sing that no longer exist.

For the finale, Hirt describes the how and why music at funerals in New Orleans is infamously played with a joyous tone. For the end, or “death” of the program, the whole band comes out again, and they perform “South Rampart Street Parade.”

Of all the collection of the American’s Music Legacy, this is by far the most spirited and joyous, and also with the largest number of people no longer with us. Am I seeing a correlation? No, but I am enjoying it while I can.

DVD Reviews: Two of the America’s Music Legacy Series, Part 3: Blues; Soul

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2011
Images from the Internet

Part 3: This is just two of a series of six DVDs that have been released to promote a collection of television specials from the 1980s that highlight specific genres of music, with each disc focusing on a one at a time. Note that links to other performances are not present on these compilations.


America’s Music Legacy: Blues
Directed by Kip Walton
Cube International / Century Home Video, 1982 / 2010
115 minutes, USD $16.95
Cubeinternational.com
Qleap.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

There are so many subgenres of blues, such as Delta (mostly acoustic), Chicago (electric), Harlem (swing), and Kansas City/Memphis (R&B/R&R). This is sort of a gross definition, and there are many crossovers, but most blues has the same I-IV-V progression (e.g., C-F-G: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chord_progression) that instilled and enabled early rock and roll. As put by the host of this blues-focused show, Brock Peters, “Three basic chords, 12 basic measures.” The topics within the genre tend to be gender specific (“s/he done me wrong”), though money-related matters is a close second.

The collection here, which is comprised of two performance shows and clips edited together, easily flips among the many subgenres with ease, and starts strong with a short film of the late Bessie Smith (d. 1937). The musical action starts in full with Linda Hopkins performing “St. Louis Blues” (a completely different one than with which Louis Armstrong would have a hit), a boogie holler. She certainly has the voice to carry it off, as well.

Chicago-style gets a boost from one of its founders, as B.B. King just wails through “Payin’ the Cost to Be the Boss,” “How Blue Can You Get,” and “All Over Again.” These burners exemplify why he is held in such high respect, as he moans and growls the lyrics, wrings the guitar, and pounds the top of the instrument with his fists in emotional fits. He may have the blues, but he is a joy to watch.

Following a clip of Billie Holliday (d. 1959) is Leata Galloway, who sings “Fine and Mellow” and “Stormy Monday” in a similar Harlem chanteuse style. Not surprising as Galloway was born in Brooklyn and raised in Harlem. She also has an interesting body language, as she sometimes dips waaaaay down. On the second song, the Gerald Wiggins Band, which does the backing throughout, gets an opportunity to also shine.

Likewise, after a clip of Jimmy Rushing (1972), of the Count Basie Orchestra, Ernie Andrews does a Basie-big-band-swing-style “Ernie’s Blues.” He’s followed by alto saxer Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson (d. 1988), who performs the humorous and also self-named “Cleanhead Blues.”

Linda Hopkins returns for three songs after a short filmed interview with her discussing Bessie Smith. First up is “Born on a Friday,” in which she gets to make use of her powerful voice. Next, she has a duet with B.B. King on “Everyday I Have the Blues,” where she handles most of the singing and he does all the guitar. Last is another duet, this time with saxist Vi Redd, where she once again does “St. Louis Blues,” but this time it’s all her vocals, and Vi does some wild playing on her instrument.

Reminiscent of T. Bone Walker, Connie Carter “Pee Wee “Crayton (d. 1985) handles the standard “After Hours,” which is closer to rock and roll, or Tex-Mex. Of course, I enjoyed this immensely.

For the finale of the first part, all the artists come out for a jam of “Jammin’ the Blues,” with Hopkins on point.

Leading off the second half, also hosted by Brock Peters, is smooth-as-silk Joe Williams (d. 1999), who sings “Come Back” with a smattering of scat. This should come as no surprise as he was the vocalist for the Count Basie Orchestra for six years. He comes back later to do the equally silky “Tell Me Where to Scratch.”

My memory of actress Paula Kelly is from the film Sweet Charity (paired with Chita Rivera) and a memorable Playboy pictorial around the same time, when I was at an impressionable age. She proves she can sing with a perky (for blues) “Ain’t Nobody’s Business.” She performs in a sultry manner, and is obviously comfortable in her body as she moves around to the music.

A more nasal boogie blaster, along the lines of Nell Carter, is “Little” Esther Philips (d. 1984), with “Early in the Morn.” This a jazzy, nearly a-melodic and dissonant number, followed by the slower “Cherry Red.” Philips passed away soon after this from complications of drug abuse.

Brownie McGhee (incorrectly listed as Bobby McGee) is a solid Delta-style guitarist and singer who does the strong and wonderful “Life is a Gamble.” After him, unlisted in the credits, is the sole white performer, Addie Clement, previously of the all female rock band Fanny. She plays a Chicago electric style Willie Dixon cover of “I Think I Got the Blues” that reminds me of the likes of John Scofield.

Introduced as “the original Blues Brothers,” Buddy Guy (vox) and Junior Wells (guitar; d. 1998) flex their muscle through “Who’s Lovin’ You Tonight?” This is a more rockin’ vein of the blues, along the likes of Sam and Dave.

Dorothy Donegan (misspelled on the box!; d. 1998) plays a jellyroll boogie piano along the lines of Little Richard and Jerry Lee, except she has horns backing her. She absolutely rocks through “After Hours,” mixing in a bit of “Battle Hymn of the Republic” and “Bye, Bye Blackbird.” The way she plays sounds nothing short of controlled raucous; it’s great.

For the finale, Joe Williams and Esther Philips duet on “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down,” which has an improvised feel; it is a scorching ballad with some power moments.

The blues is feel-bad music that makes the listener feel good. Yes, it’s an oxymoron, but it certainly works here. There are some brilliant moments here, and none that hits a bad note or untrue to the genre.


* * *

America’s Music Legacy: Soul
Directed by Kip Walton
Cube International / Century Home Video, 1983 / 2010
95 minutes, USD $16.95
Cubeinternational.com
Qleap.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

Soul is an emotional style of music that is poppier than the blues, is more melodic than disco, and generally has high emotional peaks. It took me a while to appreciate the form; it came when VHS was new, and I rented out a tape of live performances called The Soul Experience (there wasn’t as large a selection as would come later). I was blown away by a very subtle and moving solo Bill Withers doing his classic “Ain’t No Sunshine” (youtube.com/watch?v=tIdIqbv7SPo; different than the tape), a song was I found irksome until that moment. With an epiphany, I suddenly found an appreciation for the form, and went back to watch James Brown do “Please, Please, Please” on the T.A.M.I. Show (youtube.com/watch?v=54y_XDKNxPg), and it was a whole different experience. Yeah, sometimes I’m a slow learner (and in the Brown example, so were the Rolling Stones, but that’s another story).

Appropriately, James Brown (d. 2006) opens up this program, introduced by host then-actor/now-minister Leon Isaac Kennedy. Brown starts off strong, of course, with “Rap Payback.” Definitely a dynamic performer, and even the band is in constant motion while they’re playing and interacting using call and response with Brown; there is solid drumming and horns to enforce the sound, as he slides into “Jam,” relying on simple repetitive rhythms, riding it for many minutes while never being boring. When he returns later for “The Man Understands,” the audience is on its feet and swaying; heck, so was I. The band member introducing him looks a lot like Rick James, and as is usual, there is someone in the entourage just to say “James Brown” over and over and over and over and… Vibrant stuff.

He is followed by Ben E. King, who rose to fame in the Drifters, and then had his own hits, including “Spanish Harlem,” which he opens with here. Kennedy precedes him with the personal descriptor of “Uptown R&B.” Before his second number, there is a brief interview with King where he describes recording “Spanish” with Phil Spector, and how it only took two takes. His sophomore song here is the crooner standard, “I Who Have Nothing,” which he infuses with soul via minor chords, without losing any of the song’s feel or emotion.

Kennedy then presents Mary Bond Davis as “The future of soul,” when in actuality she is more symbolic of the death of disco with “This is It.” In the early ‘80s, disco was (too) slowly fading into hip-hop (not much better), which was more R&B than soul (in my opinion), but it was the sound of the time. She has a good voice with some theatrical punch, which is appropriate considering she appeared often on the Broadway stage.

Atlantic Records signed Tyrone Davis (d. 2005), but with “Turn Back the Hands of Time,” a big hit for him, his sound could be considered Motown, with its Temptations vibe. His interview piece is about performing, as he sits on a couch weighed down in almost Mr. T levels of gold jewelry. He comes back later for a second tune, a sultry ballad that’s somewhere between Marvin Gaye and Barry White.

Between performers, Kennedy gives history lessons on soul, as is common of the hosts in this series, while also presenting clips. He states (reads) that soul started in 1954 with Brown vs. The Board of Education ruling, and then kick started by the likes of Ray Charles.

Maxine Nightingale starts off with “Lead Me On,” which shows she has the pipes, and then slows it down for the lovely ballad, “I Don’t Miss You At All.” Then, unfortunately, of course she resorts to her big disco hit, “Right Back Where We Started From” (one of the reasons why they invented 2x speed), even though she does a more soulful version of the tune than her original recording.

Along with her Pips, Gladys Knight takes over the stage in the first performance that can come close to the level of James Brown, but without all the (literal) sweat. She starts upbeat with “I Will Fight,” leading into her hit ballad, “You’re The Best Thing that Ever Happened to Me,” in that style that she has made her own. It is further exemplified by her next number, the outstanding “Midnight Train to Georgia,” which shows off the Pips a bit more in the return and call.

While recording at Sun around the time Elvis walked in, Rufus Thomas (Jr., d. 2001) shows with “Do the Push and Pull” that he has a sound that is similar in style to James Brown (as did Joe “I Gotcha” Tex, who passed away in 1982, shortly before this show was recorded: youtube.com/watch?v=zEYl8TtckjI&feature=related). Despite his age here, he is also fashionably bombastic like Brown, dressed in yellow cape, shorts (!), shirt, and knee-high high-heel boots. And then he drops the cape… His daughter, Stax Records artist Carla Thomas, shows up next with “I Like What You do to Me,” a borderline disco number. Her voice is in fine shape, but I wish she had done some of her earlier material, as “Gee Whiz,” a fine example of “northern soul.”

Jerry Butler, known as “The Ice Man” due to his cool and suave style, sings “Hey, Western Union Man.” He is similar to Ben E. King in presentation, but a bit more upbeat. Following him is Freda Payne, known especially for her “Band of Gold,” which she has been singing for nearly 15 years at the time of this taping, and just about 40 years now. She is apparently enjoying being on the stage and getting a chance to sing, as she has an underrated voice, but she also seems to have lost the meaning of the song. It is not a happy song despite its upbeat melody. Yet she’s all smiles and sings it with little emotional backing, which is kind of as heartbreaking as the song.

Speaking of glad to be there, Percy Sledge, who did the powerful “When a Man Loves a Woman,” which can still give me goosebumps, does not do that song, but rather “You Had to Be There.” His voice has a nasal quality, but remains solid. He also has an ear to ear grin throughout. While I prefer his blues, he carries off the song well.

Though he died in 1967, the film of Otis Redding doing an exciting soul-encased cover of the Stones’ “Satisfaction” shows why he is regarded enough to have a full song presented rather than just a clip.

To close the show, Gladys Knight and the Pips return to the stage for the upbeat “Save the Overtime,” which made it to No. 1 in the R&B charts. For her cover of Marvin Gaye’s “Heard It Through the Grapevine,” she starts and a number of the performers come back on stage to join in for a rousing finale.

As is common with this series, there are some songs that are listed that never made it past the DVD editing, in this case one by Tyrone Davis’s, Rufus Thomas’s “Walking the Dog,” Freda Payne’s “Bring the Boys Home,” and Gladys Knight’s “Neither One of Us,” all songs I would have genuinely liked to have heard.

Despite that, this collection is exciting (sans disco), and fun watch.

DVD Review: Ana Popović Band: An Evening at Trasimeno Lake

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2010
Images from the Internet

Ana Popović Band: An Evening at Trasimeno Lake
Directed by Dimone Pucci
MVD Visual / ArtisteXclusive, 2010
124 minutes, USD $19.95
Artistexclusive.com.
Anapopovic.com
MVDvisual.com

Born in Yugoslavia 34 years ago, Ana Popović has become a worldwide sensation. Having garnered many international awards, her brand of guitar-focused blues rock sets the stage afire.

Promoting her latest album, Blind For Love, Ana takes the stage with her main band, which consists of Andrew “Blaze” Thomas (the only US member) on drums, Michele Papadia on keyboards, and Ronald Jonker on a very rockin’ bass. Along with this core group, there are four other members that float in and out, including percussion, brass, and a back-up vocalist.

Utilizing six cameras and an amazing setting of a medieval castle in Italy, Ana and crew perform before a very enthusiastic crowd. Starting strong right off the bat, she opens with “Wrong Woman” (as in “you’re messing with”), a solid ‘70s rocker, especially on the choruses. Amazing, the huge amount of flying bugs, which are very visible to the camera thanks to the stage lighting (very well done, with an emphasis on the reds) does not seem to phase her performance or the other band members (though Michele definitely winches against them landing on his face, considering he’s the most stationary).

Ana knows how to strut with the best of them, moving around the stage with her electric Strat guitar, flailing at the neck and body to make a full-bodied sound, helped with the fill by the rhythm section behind her.

“How’d You Learn to Shake It Like That” is solid I-IV-V blues, right out of the Bonnie Raitt style-book, though it is unfair to compare the two actually, since Raitt leans more towards the classic blues end, and Ana the classic rock. And yet, on numbers like Keyshia Cole’s (one of the few covers) “U Complete Me,” Ana and band do a hard blues ballad burner, showcasing Ana’s guitar wizardry.

In another change of pace, “Lives That Don’t Exist” shows that Ana is handily familiar with da funk. The whole band knows how to get down with the wah-wah, with the bass blazing. And while Ana’s guitar is the definite forefront, she lets the rest of the band get their say, such as Michele’s electric keyboard turn on “Let Me Love You Babe.”

There are a couple of breaks between songs for brief interview segments, which I found kind of distracting, one of the few editing flaws of the DVD. Personally, I would have preferred just straight concert all the way through. Then suddenly at one point, without explanation, Ana’s in a different outfit, sitting on a chair, and with an acoustic rather than electric. I found this disconcerting… was it the second set? The encore?

Even without the wail of an electric, Ana proves her chops right out with “Doubt Everyone But Me,” a Latin-influenced number that features solos by some of the other musicians. This is followed up by the title track from her new release, Blind for Love, a slow love song that is quite lovely.

“Get Back Home to You,” the next cut, is right back to classic rock for which she whips up even on an acoustic. She finishes up the set with an R&B-laced “Love Fever” and another funker, “Hold On.”

Recorded in HD, the sound is crisp as one might expect, and the balance is pretty even, with Ana and her guitar up front, as should it be; but no one gets lost in the mix. Ana’s voice, which has a steely quality, is also clear, thankfully.).

For the extras, there are two songs by Ana alone on acoustic, recorded in the afternoon before the show: “Blind for Love” and “Steal Me Away.” Oddly, each song was recorded live in about four different places, and is spliced together, so there is a disconcerting jump in background sounds and in Ana’s vocals; in other words, each place as their own sound environment, which affects the voice, guitar and background “noise.” I’d rather have the whole song be consistent, but maybe that’s me. The other add-on is a 7-minute interview with Ana in different parts of the castle, as she talks about her life.

I’ve never heard Ana before, though I’ve heard of her, so it was nice to put a sound to the name. She proves that it is worth the wait.

Songlist
Wrong Woman (Blind for Love LP)
Is This Everything There Is
How’d You Learn to Shake It Like That
U Complete Me (Keyshia Cole)
Nothing Personal
Shadow After Dark
Lives That Don’t Exist
Let Me Love You Babe
Doubt Everyone But Me
Blind For Love
Get Back Home to You
Recall the Days
Love Fever
Hold On

Bonus Video (while this song starts off the live DVD, this is the studio version, which is not included):

DVD Review: Eric Sardinas and Big Motor - Live

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2010
Images from the Internet

Eric Sardinas and Big Motor - Live
Director not listed
MVD Visual, 2010
45 minutes, USD $14.95
Ericsardinas.com
MVDvisual.com

Eric Sardinas is deeply steeped in not just the blues, but the flowing Delta kind that twangs and vibrates to the soul. Leading a twosome rhythm section dubbed Big Motor, Sardinas surges through the big muddy.

Let me backtrack. This DVD is presented as a 45-minute television program titled Mav Music Live. There are other artists who have appeared on MML, such as Todd Snider, but whether it’s an actual program or just a DVD series, I’m uncertain. Keeping with a TV format, there are blackouts for commercial spots and interviews. Well, all three are present, but only Sardinas talks as the other two sit behind him, cigarette and whisky firmly in hand. Though he comes off a bit egocentric, the music is certainly worth a listen.

As well as being a musician, Sardinas is also a performer, who moves and slithers around his guitar like a snake in a desert. Ah, the guitar. It’s a retrofitted resonator that is electrified; usually it’s acoustic, and designed to produce a louder sound than a wood body to be heard over other instruments. The sound uniquely twangy, and so is used mostly by both blues and bluegrass artists.

Anyhoo, Sardinas uses his instrument as a McLuhan-esque (Cronenberg-esque?) extension of his own body, yet moving it independently so it sides up at different angles from his frame, all the while plummeting the strings from both hands, one plucking the strings and the other either holding them or running a bottle neck for a slide effect. It is very effective, as is his trademark black Stetson and, well, outrageously iconic southern rock garb (gaudy boots, etc.).

Some are going to want to compare him to other southern rockers, a la Skynyrd or Black Oak Arkansas, but I find a lot of Son House in his plucking style (the resonator helps). Still, he creates arrangements that make the songs his own. Supporting him Big Motor is Levell Price, an amazing bassist, and equally talented Patrick Caccia (from Milano, Italia) on drums. They buoy up each other solidly on stage and in facial hair, each one in a different style (soul patch and sideburns, beard, and goatee).

The song selection and styles range from some covers by the likes of Elmore James’ “I’m Worried,” Mississippi John Hurt’s “Can’t Be Satisfied,” and Rory Gallagher southern rocker “As the Crow Flies,” to a few originals, such as “8 Goin’ South.” He varies from deep Delta to modern southern rock, all the while making the “guitar face” during the many flashy solos, where his fingers fly over the fretboard. He’s definitely the star of the band, and he shows it to the max (or is that Mav?).

It’s a pretty interesting venture, as he moves around the music as it’s flowing through him. Honestly, I’ve never heard of him before, but I bet he’s better known south of the – as Archie Bunker once called it – the Manson-Nixon Line. The fans in the club setting where this is filmed sure seem enthused.

During one of the interview sections, he states that he plays how is, with nothing added, but this just augments his self-preening, which is forgivable if one just listens to the music. As the last interview end, he states, “Let’s go get drunk!” Spoken like a southern delta blues rock musician.

Songlist
I’m Worried
Almost Done
Can’t Be Satisfied
8 Goin’ South
Love Me
As the Crow Flies

Bonus video (not from this DVD, though this song appears)

DVD Review: “Johnny Winter: Live Through the ‘80s”

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2010
Images from the Internet

Johnny Winter: Live Through the ‘80s
2010
114 minutes, USD $19.95
Johnnywinter.net
MVDvisual.com

When one thinks of effective white blues guitarists, mostly Brits seem to come to mind, like Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck. But Americans have their own share, such as the late Stevie Ray Vaughn, Mike Bloomfield, and Johnny Winter.

Johnny Winter is iconic. Texas bred, his long, straight white hair from albinism, tattoos from before they were passé, tall and lanky frame, and his headstockless Lazer guitar (which shows up early on in this collection), are all part and parcel of this artiste.

While he dabbled some in rock and roll, and even occasionally displays a tinge of country, such as on “Please Come Home for Christmas,” Winter is a blues man. He plays electric so he is often lumped into the Chicago school, but he actually plays both Northern and Delta picking style.

There are some quick interview bits here and there on this DVD, where he blithely discusses his love of the blues, but the core here is the music. Taken from a number of different sources from the five years 1983-1988, the songs are complete, even the longer ones where he gets into the groove and just gets his mojo working.

As the DVD starts, it’s Johnny and his ace bassist/harp player, Jon Paris - complete with ‘80s killer sideburns and ‘fro - who play off each other magnificently through all the songs (they played together from 1979 to 1989). In a few solos, Paris shows that his bass playing is strong, as is his harmonica, so he makes a fine foil for Winter.

In the first grouping of four songs from Massey Hall in Toronto (or Trono, as they pronounce it there), Bobby Torello plays drums. While he is an exceptional drummer, he is a bit out of place as he obviously is playing rock style, stepping all over the groove. After this show, Tom Compton joins the trio in his place. He is definitely better suited, and gets to show off some of his chops towards the end of the DVD.

The Massey Hall show is kind of visually fuzzy (from a videotape, as there are occasional short interviews edited in between a few songs), but the sound is sharp. As usual, most of the material is covers of older tunes, but he ends with a bluesy Bobby Womack song, “It’s All Over Now,” which the Rolling Stones also covered in ’64.

This brings us to the second set, which was filmed at the Roskide Festival in Denmark in front of a huge audience (reminiscent of all the “Aid” shows from the period). It opens with another Stones’ related song, “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” There is also adapted versions of Dylan’s “Highway 61” and Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.” It’s here the Lazer shows up, as Winter spins and twirls. He’s shirtless after the second song, as he often is, showing off his skinny, pale, and hawk-like frame – and yet his Stetson never is removed, as will remain true through the shows. Interestingly, being Denmark, there are plenty of people in the audience that are as blond(e) as him, and with some exceptions, these shots show many people not really paying attention to the music at hand. The evidence of this is the end of the set, where something is seen hitting Winter on the chest. He unstraps his guitar, says bitingly into the mic, “I bring you music and you throw things. Great.” Then he storms off the stage. As Paris leaves, he says (and apparently sincerely), “Good night! Thank you!” I could just imagine the conversation between the two backstage: “Why would you say thank you?!?!” I found the whole walking out thing very amusing, in hindsight.

The next set is from a British telly show with a remote in-studio introduction by the great Dave Edmunds, but the music plays out at the Capitol Theater in Passaic, NJ. The two cuts are typical of his style, from the solid “Mad Dog” and then shifting to the slow burner, “When You’ve Got a Good Friend.”

The video production from the Casbah in Nashua, NH, looks like it was probably in-house: it shakes and zooms about too earnestly to be professional, but the sound remains clear. “Lights Out” is a raver, reminiscent of “Black Sox” in classic I-IV-V style. As I mentioned above, Charles Brown’s “Please Come Home for Christmas” is a blues number, but Winter does it Texas-style, with a country flavor.

In 1984, Winter signed to Alligator Records, a great blues label, and they released a music video for “Don’t Take Advantage of Me.” The song is wonderful in a Bonnie Raitt sort of production of the period, but the video is, well, just terrible. It’s sexist against both genders: it shows women being abused (including Nora Dunn, just before she was on SNL!), and men being mean, stupid and macho (there’s a redundancy for ya); and it ends with Winter “tattooing” women with identical Texas Rose tattoos that he has on his arm, in a symbol of ownership. Yuck. This is quickly followed with a brief EPK (electronic press kit) video of him sitting in a directors-style chair and talking about the blues, tattoos and drugs.

Then, back to the music. In a television studio setting in Bromma, Sweden, is an incredibly well mixed two-song set of “Sound the Bell” and “Mojo Boogie.” All the instruments are clear, and it’s one of my favorite moments on the entire DVD, as Winter prowls the stage, hovering over his Lazer like a predator bird.

The last two songs, shot on the Piazza Duomo in Pistoia, Italy, has the murkiest visual here (my guess is probably due to a transfer from PAL rather than too many generations), but probably shows off the trio at their finest, with two looooooong pieces, a version of “Early in the Morning” and the guitar grinding “Serious As a Heart Attack.” “Early” features major solos for both Paris and Compton, but the fretwork of Winter stands out the most.

Winter knows his stuff. He is precise, with fast hands, and keeps a melody and rhythm going without giving up any quality or direction. Usually long guitar solos bore the crap out of me (one of the many reasons I fell in love with the Ramones), but even in the extended songs, I never felt the desire to skip ahead.

There is a Johnny Winter: Live Through the ‘70s, which I have not seen, but it was the 1980s when Johnny Winter was at his prime, and this DVD is a great collection of those moments when he was simply on fire.

Oh, and just for the hell of it: Edgar.

From Massey Hall with the wrong drummer:

DVD Review: “Eric Clapton: The 1960s Review”

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2010
Images from the Internet

Eric Clapton: The 1960s Review
Directed by Alex Westbrook
Sexy Intellectual, 2010
120 minutes, USD $19.95
Chromedreams.co.uk.com
MVDvisual.com

When I was in school during the early ‘70s, there was some standard bathroom graffiti, such as “Frodo Lives”, “I Grok Spock,” and “Clapton IS God.” At the time I wasn’t into Middle Earth, being a Stranger in a Strange Land, or music that much (that would start in 1975), so they were all lost on me back then.

Over the years, I have come to understand all of them (and even appreciate some). Which leads me to another anecdote: during the ‘60s, while I was in a 3-week long sleepaway camp as a tyke in the ‘60s, the only record anyone thought to bring was the 45 of Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love.” When we had a social, it was all we played that summer (I don’t remember them ever playing the other side the entire time). When we wanted to slow dance, it was played at 33-1/3. When we wanted to let loose, it was at 78 rpms. For sing-around-the-campfires we vocalized to social justice songs by the likes Phil Ochs (“Draft Dodger Rag”) and Buffy Ste. Marie (“Universal Soldier”), but when we wanted to dance, it was always “Sunshine.”

Eric Clapton was the guitarist in some of the most outstanding bands of the late ‘60s British music scene, which went from being blues based to full-on rock, from the Yardbirds in 1966, to Bluesbreakers, then Cream, and ending the decade with Blind Faith. All of them relied heavily on Clapton’s wicked fretwork. He could do a solo for more than 20 minutes (especially when stoned out of his gourd, as he was frequently toward the later part of the decade).

This two-hour British documentary starts off with his childhood where he discovered American Blues 78s (first acoustic Delta, then electrified Chicago), and quickly learned to play them as a young teen. He joined a loose band of fellow Blues fans known as the “Roosters,” before meeting Giorgio Gomelsky (whom I have met more than once in the 1980s, while working at a recording studio in Manhattan; he was licensing out Yardbirds cuts) and then joining the Yardbirds. Whichever one of the Yardbirds’ three top-notch guitarists you think is best – Clapton, Jeff Beck, or Jimmy Page – Eric started it off. Of course, he quit after recording their biggest hit, “Heart Full of Soul,” as he felt it was not pure enough blues. As time went on into other bands, he would become more commercial sounding, leaning towards pop more than Blues. Thankfully, this documentary addresses that peculiarity (you’ll have to see it to find out which side it comes out on).

The whole “God” thing started, though, when Clapton joined John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers. It’s kind of ironic that he was associated with being a god when he was so influenced during this period by Robert Johnson, who supposedly sold his soul to the devil (Clapton would later do the song “Crossroads” about Johnson, while in Cream). He left that band due to lack of moneymaking potential. He definitely was ambitious.

My interest in Clapton’s career, for reasons stated above, is in the Cream period, where he had a contentious relationship with his two other band mates, bassist Jack Bruce and drummer Ginger Baker. While I found this era to be my favorite of his career in general, to me his best song is still “Layla,” but that was in the ‘70s while being in Derek and the Dominos, so it is not covered here (therefore, I digress…). This band would be short lived, though, because they quickly found they just did not get along, even with pharmaceuticals (according to Pattie Boyd’s whiney autobio, Wonderful Tonight, he was often in an alternative state).

One of the more fascinating points in the documentary discusses in some length the relationship between Clapton and Jimi Hendrix, who came to England and jammed on stage with Cream, basically blowing Clapton away. I’ve heard two different versions of Clapton’s feelings about Hendrix, one being jealous and the other being admiring. This documentary leans towards… well, again, you’ll have to see it.

A point of interest in seeing this documentary at this moment comes with the timing of having just read Cheetah Chrome’s new autobio, A Dead Boy’s Tale. Both the Dead Boys’ second LP and much of Clapton’s Cream material were both recorded by the same producer, Felix Pappalardi, with opposite results. The material of Cream was certainly more suited for Pappalardi’s style, as he worked on the likes of “Sunshine” and “Strange Brew.”

By the time Clapton got to Blind Faith, with Steve Winwood, I still found the storyline interesting in the documentary, though musically I found the band to be an utter bore (the Ramones explained to me why). Clapton went from Blues to pop to sheer masturbatory guitar noodling (Jimmy Page would suffer the same fate with Zepp).

Narrator Thomas Arnold takes the viewer along on the ride, and fortunately does so by keeping our interest. As with other Chrome Dream documentaries, there is a lot of pieces of music, so we get to hear Clapton’s changes over time, and there are even a few brief interviews with him, from 1968, 1991, 2005 and 2006.

There are many talking heads explaining just who Clapton was, what he accomplished, and what he was like in person, such as Yardbirds members Top Tophan and Chris Dreja (whom Clapton replaced, and constantly looks like he’s pained by the experience), John Mayall, Manfred Mann’s Tom McGuiness and Paul Jones, and the irascible Neil Innes, who was in the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band (not to mention the lead Rutle). Other associates include the Cream road manager Ben Palmer and Bill Haverson, the engineer for many of Clapton’s work at the time. Of course, rock journalist Alan Clayson, who not only wrote the bio for Cream and its members, but it seems is on just about every documentary put out by Chrome Dreams. They all paint a picture of the man of that time.

I find some of the people not interviewed kind of interesting, such as the aforementioned Pattie Boyd and Giorgio Gomelsky, Robert Stigwood (who managed Blind Faith), or even Steve Winwood (who I would rather hear talk than play). Also not addressed is his substance abuse (did you see how stoned he was in the film Tommy, singing/stumbling through “Eyesight to the Blind”? Yes, I know, it was the ‘70s again, but it started in the ‘60s).

The two hour length was just the right amount of time, and amazingly I found myself engaged straight through. The balance of clips and interviews kept the pace going nicely, and I definitely learned something about Eric Clapton, and his musical process of the period.

There are three interesting short documentaries as extras. The first one is about the lead up to the Yardbirds backing up one of their idols, Sonny Boy Williams, at the Crawdaddy Club in England. Another is Paul Jones discussing Eric Clapton’s Powerhouse, a studio group formed in 1966 that really deserved more attention as my knowledge of them is pretty limited. The last is engineer Bill Haverson’s amusing tale of a missing guitar foot peddle while recording Cream’s “Badge.”

While not authorized by Eric Clapton, this documentary is fair and seems somewhat comprehensive (other than bits I’ve mentioned above). Certainly he comes across favorably, and as he is a major musical figure of the time, apparently deservedly so.