Rory Block is just getting started: Part 1 of our Interview

“I feel like I’m on a roll. I know what I’m doing here. I’m focused. I’m excited about it, I’m on the road and I know what my destination is. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that as clearly as I feel it now.” Rory Block

Rory Block is one of the world’s greatest living acoustic blues artists. She’s been honing her guitar skills since she was a teenager in 1964 in New York City, and has devoted her life and career to performing the blues. Her talent has been recognized many times by WC Handy and Blues Music Awards in the US, as well as gaining accolades and awards in Europe. She has just won Acoustic Artist of the Year in the 2019 Blues Music Awards.

Over the years Rory has performed with a host of other top artists like Keb’ Mo’, Bonnie Raitt, Stevie Wonder, Taj Mahal, Mark Knopfler, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Jorma Kaukonen…the list goes on. As the New York Times put it, “Her playing is perfect, her singing otherworldly as she wrestles with ghosts, shadows and legends.”

Rory Block grew up in the New York of the 50s and 60s, in the world of Bob Dylan, Maria Muldaur, and the folk revival which saw country blues artists like Skip James, Mississippi John Hurt, Rev. Gary Davis, Fred McDowell and Son House rediscovered. Her personal encounters with these influential blues masters of the 20th century left an indelible mark on her and has inspired her music and performances ever since. Not least in her highly acclaimed set of tribute albums to Robert Johnson, Bukka White, Skip James, Mississippi John Hurt, Rev. Gary Davis, Fred McDowell and Son House. In these she has masterfully recreated the music of these seminal artists, reinterpreting the songs for a new generation.

Down at the Crossroads was delighted to get talking to Rory, and found her undaunted by the prospect of getting older, as inspired and excited about her music as ever, embarking on a new multi-album project which pays tribute to the woman blues artists of yesteryear, and generally loving life.

We talked to her about her life in the blues and her new album A Woman’s Soul: A Tribute to Bessie Smith. So interesting and wide-reaching was the discussion, we’ve split in into two parts. Here’s Part 1 –

Gary Rory, Congratulations for having won that Blues Music Award. But I know of course that you’ve won many blues music and W.C. Handy awards and others over the years. How satisfying is that sort of recognition for you?

Rory It really does mean a lot. I think it’s fabulous to be nominated. Actually, it’s a shock! When I was first nominated, I couldn’t believe it. It was just so you know – so justifying – it makes me feel like my work, it means something. People are noticing, people care. Sometimes we can get in a bit of a low spot where we think nothing that you’re doing adds up to anything. Anybody can have that feeling. And so, a nomination in itself tells you that you shouldn’t be discouraged, that something is going right.

But I used to tell myself, don’t worry, because I had been nominated a number of times before winning the first time, and I was pretty much satisfied with that and I wasn’t expecting to win. But I secretly wished that someday I would! But I kept telling myself not to think about it. And when I did win, it was a sweet thing and it did really make me feel joyous and happy. And then most recently I thought, well, I’ll never win again, I’ve got my five awards. That’s more than enough. So, I was going to the awards fully expecting not to win because I’m not that much of a social media person and these days you just really need wide reach, lots of attention given to social media and I’m not so great at that at all. I mean, I don’t post anything myself.  Without my husband nobody would see anything! But I just thought well, I’ll just be so happy with the nomination. And so, when I heard my name in the distance, I didn’t even know my category had been called. And I thought, Oh my God, I think I might have just – could it be? And I thought I better go and see! So, I kind of went up the back steps to the stage and then they were all looking towards me coming up and I thought, this could be that I just won – it was so far from my mind at that point! It was as if I just thought that’s part of the past.

So it’s really meant a great deal to me because I felt like somehow it was really a validation of my work – that it is being appreciated. I think that’s the beauty of it, honestly, it is a good feeling.

Gary Yeah. All these years in your long career and it is still being appreciated.

Rory Nice. I feel energized and so does my husband Rob. In fact, I feel like I’m just getting started! Even without the award I feel like I’m on a roll. I know what I’m doing here. I’m focused. I’m excited about it, I’m on the road and I know what my destination is. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that as clearly as I feel it now.

Gary Well that’s absolutely fabulous, because as people get older, sometimes they just kind of drift a little bit. They think it’s all behind them. But you know I think what you’re saying is fantastic, that you feel you’re on a roll, that you’ve a lot more to do. That’s brilliant.

Rory Yeah. I mean, honestly, that’s the whole thing about “older or younger” whatever it may be – when it really comes down to it – getting older or passing years is only what you make it. You know, you may make a disadvantage of it, but honestly, I don’t go there. I see it as an advantage. Now maybe I’m crazy, but I see it as a real opportunity to know more, to do more with what you know, to feel more…your fruit ripens! And to me it’s like I don’t feel old. What are you talking about? For me, it’s just like I feel more secure. I’m more clear that this is what I was put here to do. You know, really, I see it that way. I was put here to do it. And man, I’m just getting started!  I don’t feel a limitation at all and I don’t feel old – my goodness, not at all.

Gary Well that is fantastic. That was very refreshing to hear you say that. And congratulations on the Bessie Smith album which has been very well acclaimed and very well received. Tell us a bit about why you wanted to make this album.

Rory Well, you know that my previous project is the mentor series. I have to back up and just talk about that if I may, for a second, because it makes the other thing make more sense.  I was raised in an environment and in a family where you didn’t talk about your accomplishments. It was not OK. Whatever that moral system is where some of us were raised to go, “Don’t boast, don’t tell anyone.” And I never spoke about the people that I knew in person and I never spoke about, “well you know I actually spent time with Son House” – I never spoke about anything from the past. And then one day it just hit me, like, I really want to talk about this! I thought I ought to tell my story a little bit and that’s when I started writing my book. And I ought to record records that celebrate the people that I knew in person. So, after the Robert Johnson tribute, which was however many years ago and won Acoustic Album of the Year, I thought it really should be followed by Son House. Whom I knew and had spent a fair amount of time with. And then I thought, you know, I really should try and explain that this is someone who inspired me in person, because in retrospect, how rare is it to have spent time with him? I just thought well, everybody spends time with someone else, and everyone spends time with Reverend Gary Davis and Mississippi John Hurt! But it really turned out that good fortune had put me into the right place at the right time and I was able to briefly meet these absolutely phenomenal, influential founding masters of blues.

So that led to the mentor series – six CDs to blues masters whom I met in person. And it was nothing to do with whether they were women or men. These were the blues people who were rediscovered and brought in to Greenwich Village where I lived. If they had brought Bessie Smith back (she was deceased at that point) – I would have been overjoyed to meet her too. But with no choice on my part, these were the blues masters who I was introduced to as a young teenager. So those six CDs concluded the mentor series.

And everyone was saying, What are you gonna do to follow up? And then I thought, this really needs to be about my favourite women of blues, and so “the power women of the blues” is my new theme. And it was a no-brainer to start with Bessie Smith. No, I didn’t meet Bessie Smith but that’s not the criterion of this new series. It is those who I dearly loved who were a huge part of inspiring me. And I don’t even know who I’ll pick from here because there’s such a broad range of names and great artists. You could do tributes just about for the rest of one’s life and never run out of inspiration. But to choose Bessie Smith was easy for me because I grew up listening to her music.

Gary Actually it was the women blues artists in the first instance that were the really big stars even before the men wasn’t it?

Rory You know that’s a good point and I’ve heard nobody say that, but I think you’re right. Yes, there was Bessie Smith, Ida Cox, Ma Rainey, Memphis Minnie, all who actually attained real name recognition. They toured the world with bands – Bessie Smith was playing with Louis Armstrong and she played for luminaries around the world and she was a big star. So yeah, I think that’s that is a good point.

Gary Then you get through to somebody like Sister Rosetta Tharpe who maybe isn’t exactly blues but I mean she was a big star.

Rory Yeah. That’s totally correct. And one of my challenges is how modern do I get? Bessie Smith was still recording, maybe overlapping in some of the years of the early country blues acoustic artists.  But then there were the ones who are even beyond Bessie’s decade and I’m going to I have to limit this to 1940, 1950, 1960. So that’s a challenge that I haven’t yet sorted out. I suppose it really shouldn’t matter that much and I should just pick my favorites!

Gary Yeah, it’s very interesting. All those wonderful tribute albums you’ve done to the country blues guys – they were all fine guitarists and I guess this is an understandable thing for you to do to pay tribute to them by picking up something of their style and at the same time making it your own. But I guess the process is really rather different with somebody like Bessie Smith who sang with a big band. How much of a challenge was it and how did you go about reinterpreting the songs?

Rory I’m glad you asked because that was a huge challenge and I was thinking I really wouldn’t manage it very well. But I figured it out! But in the beginning, I thought, How will I play all these jazz chords because I’m not a jazz player? And I started listening to it and I thought, this isn’t going to come out right. This is never going to work, it’s not going to have any credibility. And I started trying to do the basic tracks which come first on the album. As I started working on them, I thought, I can’t get these chords, they’re over my head. But then, somehow or other it began to fall into place.

I start with a simple rhythm track that I do myself, by the way, with little boxes and Bongo things – mostly boxes and tubs, an oatmeal box, literally, and serving spoons and wooden spoons. And I create a basic track which gives it a much more alive feel than a generated click track. I wanted a more organic sound. So, if I make my own click track that translates into a much more natural feel in the end. I’ve discovered this and it’s really my thing. It’s a way to make it sound more organic, because there’s gonna be the human variation on the beats and they’re not just computer generated. So then I play the acoustic layer of the chords to the best of my ability. And then I put on overdubs, once I get that.

So, the challenge was to get the chords right. And I was scratching my head, wishing I’d had jazz training, but I managed, and all of a sudden, it got easier!  And then I would move on and put the bass part on. I was listening to the parts of the band members on her great tracks and the bass player is astounding! So I tried to do that and I followed along, translating what I could, and I think I did a pretty much a note for note type of translation in the beginning. And then after a while I stopped doing that. It was perfect for the first few tunes to use as much as possible the actual notes played by the bass player. Then after a while I just started getting the bass groove to my guitar down and I just started playing and it felt like this is working. So after that, it just opened up and I thought, I can do this! And then I would layer on my slide parts. And then once it gets rolling, then it’s like, this is fun!

Gary So you basically did everything on the album yourself by the sounds of things?

Rory Completely, yes! There’s nobody else but me! That’s the way it’s been for a while and I’ll tell you why I started doing it. And there is no other good reason other than that in the beginning we couldn’t afford anything. Back in the days when they were making big L.A., New York records, if you look back at the budgets for a star from the 70s, we’re talking like, a half a million dollars to make an album. And then times changed and those little acoustic artists came along and we’d make albums at studios that weren’t charging three and four hundred dollars an hour, but maybe 40 dollars an hour. We’re like, oh this is so great! But I had one day in the studio with luminary players where a band came in – the soul people from Philadelphia and so on – and it was a ten thousand dollar day! You know, I mean, my goodness people don’t have that kind of budget money anymore now.

At one point I used Stevie Wonder’s backup singers on a certain record but that was back when people were giving me budget money to pay for that stuff. But then it just kept getting less, and it wasn’t because you were becoming less known or because people didn’t care about your music or your career wasn’t growing, it was because everything was restructuring. Record companies’ budgets went down, down, down. Everybody I know has had the same experience. So, in the end I said, I’m going to sing these myself, I’m going to play this myself. It was literally you had to do it if you wanted to have a band sound in this little niche that I’m talking about. So, I just came up with it and it right away felt like it could work. And so, I’ve stayed with that and now it’s like it’s what I do.

Gary Now you just mentioned singing. People will always remark that on your fantastic guitar work and your slide playing, but in listening to this album, I must say, I was very taken with your singing. Obviously, you couldn’t try to imitate Bessie Smith – but the singing on this is terrific. What had you to think about in your approach to the singing?

Rory Getting the right amount of soul. You know, it’s really about the soul and putting yourself into it the whole way. I had to add power. But listen, I’ve been singing Mississippi John Hurt, I’ve been singing Reverend Gary Davis, I’ve been singing Robert Johnson, so I understand that you can’t do a weak vocal. I have to give my all because these artists are just so amazing that I really don’t want to miss the mark. I know I have to give everything that I’m capable of and so that’s how I that’s how I approach it – I go, you better get this right! This is not about getting by. This is about giving everything you can give. And as you said earlier, you also have to put something of yourself in there, otherwise you’re trying to be someone else.

Gary Yeah. And every occasion, whether it’s a Robert Johnson song or Mississippi John Hurt song, I guess you’re always trying to make it fresh for a modern audience. You’re capturing this style, something of the essence. But how do you go about that, you know, taking one of those guy’s songs and making it fresh?

Rory Well I don’t think it’s something that you consciously do. I don’t consciously say, I better do this a little different. With the Robert Johnson tribute, that was an example of where I didn’t want to do it differently. For me Robert Johnson is the top of the mountain. He is the master of that style. It doesn’t get any better than that. So, it’s not like somebody is waiting for me to do it my way.

And that doesn’t diminish me as an artist. It just means that I’m not going to come up with a better way. So, I wanted to get right down to something that I felt I really understood. I heard him first in 1964 when I was 14 years old and I immediately knew that he was the top of the mountain. I mean it was so great. So I said, I’m going to crack this code – because I knew about the guitar playing, I feel like I’ve known from the time that I first started listening to him and tried to play the music, I had some kind of a connection to it and I was very focused on it. I want to talk about that again in a second, where I had an interesting background that I think gave me a certain edge when it came to being able to play something very close to what he was playing.

Check out Part 2 of our interview with Rory Block, where she talks about meeting the seminal country blues artists, dealing with stage-fright, and sitting in guitar lessons with Rev. Gary Davis.

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Texas musical pioneers: The Legacy of Blind Willie Johnson

Blind Willie Johnson: “The ferocity he brought to the guitar was unheard of previously.”

Michael Corcoran is an award-winning Austin, Texas-based journalist who has been a serious music critic since he was a teenager. He’s plied his trade in Hawaii and California, and since 1984 has written for the Austin Chronicle, Dallas Morning News, Austin American Statesman, Texas Monthly and Rolling Stone. He’s won numerous awards, and has been nominated for two Grammys in the album notes and historical album categories for Washington Phillips and His Manzarene Dreams (Dust-to-Digital). Music has been a life-long passion – he told me, “I was 8 when the Beatles appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show” in 1964. A little too young to start a band the next day, but the perfect age to start listening. Some of my younger friends had Kiss, I had the Beatles. Then I got completely into the Monkees, who were less a band than a vehicle for great songs from Carole King, Neil Diamond, Harry Nilsson, Boyce & Hart and so on.”

Corcoran has written a number of books, including, notably his 2017 All Over the Map, (University of North Texas Press), which has been described as a “musical waltz across Texas and is an illustrated collection of profiles of Texas music pioneers, most underrated or overlooked. “It started,” he says, “as a newspaper article for the Chicago Tribune in advance of South by Southwest. The assignment was to describe what makes Texas music special. I’m not from Texas. I came here from Hawaii in 1984, so I had a lot of catching up to do. But sometimes an outsider gets a clearer picture than the folks who’ve been entrenched. Texas has a lot of swagger. It’s where the cowboy movies – popular with blacks as well as whites – were set and so the music tapped into that Old West pioneer spirit.”

Why, I asked him, is Texas so formative for American music? Is it the geography, the people, the history, just what is it?

“Texas was the first state to have large populations of both African-Americans and Hispanics. They worked side by side in the fields, along with whites. Guitars came up from Mexico. It was a musical melting pot. Also, the Czech and German immigrants, who started coming in the 1850s, built these huge dancehalls like back home. Musicians had to play loud to get the people dancing, so Texans were the first to play electric guitars in blues (T-Bone Walker), jazz (Charlie Christian) and country (Bob Dunn of the Musical Brownies). More than anything else, the dancing culture influenced the music.”

Corcoran suggested a while ago, provocatively, that Texas, not Mississippi, is the true home of the blues. What, I asked him is the case for that? He told me that this observation was based on the birth of boogie-woogie in the lumber camps of East Texas after the Civil War. “Blind Lemon Jefferson was the first star of guitar blues, recording three years before Charlie Patton and the other Mississippi Delta guys. A lot of things happened in Texas before anywhere else. But re-thinking this “home of the blues” claim, I’d have to say that the blues were born wherever black people were slaves – which was all over the south. The blues, like gospel, grew out of the Negro spirituals that the slaves would sing in the fields to lift their spirits.”

He has also suggested that maybe 90% of the music that came after the 1920s can be traced back to three Texas artists – Blind Willie Johnson, Arizona Dranes, and Washington Phillips. In support of this, Corcoran told me, “Blind Willie was the first true guitar hero, like the first basketball player who could dunk. Jimmy Page is a direct descendent. Eric Clapton, Duane Allman. Blind Lemon, a lively guitarist and singer, was playing house party dance music, when Johnson was making his guitar the star. Dranes brought a rhythmic, secular pound to gospel music. That’s the original R&B, which became rock n’ roll. Then, Washington Phillips can be credited with introducing introspection to song-writing on gospel songs that were often more about the realities of life. Gospel music was not known for honesty until Denomination Blues or The Church Needs Good Deacons.

Corcoran is currently researching and writing a book coming out in Spring 2020, entitled Ghost Notes, which is basically a sequel to All Over the Map, but with more context. “I’ve woven my research on Johnson, Dranes and Phillips to better reflect what it was like being poor and black in Texas in the 1920s. The church was not just a spiritual sanctuary. I have a section on blues piano, featuring Amos Milburn and Charles Brown, plus Milton Brown and the birth of Western Swing, Roky Erickson, Sippie Wallace. That’s the beauty of Texas music – so many styles and genres, but with the same underlying purpose of coming up with some new stuff that’s going to blow people away.”

Blind Willie Johnson

Blind Willie Johnson is one of the artists about which Corcoran has written extensively. Johnson recorded for Columbia Records from 1927 until 1930, thirty tracks in total, with ten each recorded in Dallas, New Orleans and Atlanta. Johnson’s recordings were very successful, outselling even Bessie Smith, and his guitar playing was the inspiration for a many of the Delta blues artists, including Robert Johnson, whose songs and playing style became foundational for later electric blues and rock’n’roll. So Blind Willie casts a long shadow.

Johnson, however, restricted his singing to gospel songs, unlike, say, Blind Willie McTell, who sang the blues along with sacred songs. “His raspy evangelical bark and dramatic guitar,” says Corcoran, “were designed to draw in milling, mulling masses on street corners, not to charm casual roots rock fans decades later.”

Corcoran contributed extensive liner notes for the 2016 Alligator Records Blind Willie Johnson tribute album (God Don’t Never Change: The Songs of Blind Willie Johnson), and he has more to offer in his forthcoming book. But it’s fair to say that he feels that there have been more than a few misunderstandings and false stories about Willie Johnson’s life.

“Just finding his death certificate cleared up a lot of misinformation, like that he died in 1945, not ’49. Through the years I’ve found that the most unreliable information comes through interviews. The person being interviewed tends to puff up their own importance and that’s what happened when Sam Charters found Blind Willie’s widow Angeline in the 1950s. Almost all the misinformation, including how he died, came from her. She even claimed to be the female voice on her husband’s records, but we later found out it was another wife, Willie B. Harris.”

Corcoran questions, for example, Angeline’s story of Johnson’s death. She said that her husband died from pneumonia in 1949 after sleeping on wet newspapers after a fire had burned down their home. “We didn’t get wet, but just the dampness, you know, and then he’s singing and his veins opened and everything, and it just made him sick.” She says she took him to the hospital but “They wouldn’t accept him. He’d have been living today if they’d accepted him. ’Cause he’s blind. Blind folks has a hard time – he can’t get in the hospital.”

Corcoran quotes blues scholar Mack McCormick, whom he regarded as “probably the greatest music researcher of our time,” as concluding that such a scenario was “highly unlikely.” McCormick worked in a Houston emergency room in the Jim Crow era and has suggested that Johnson wouldn’t have been turned away. In addition, Michael Corcoran makes the point that it would have been almost unthinkable for Johnson and his wife not to have been taken in by the congregation of their church after the disaster of the fire.

I wonder, however, if Angeline’s story of her husband being turned away from a hospital in 1945 is really not to be trusted. A 2014 paper by Kerri L. Hunkele of the University of New Hampshire (Segregation in United States Healthcare: From Reconstruction to Deluxe Jim Crow) highlights the fact that across the South, Jim Crow medical laws hindered access to medical care for blacks. White nurses were not to treat African American males and hospital facilities were segregated, including entrances and waiting rooms. Even by the end of the ‘40s, the ratio of African American physicians to the Black population remained at one to over 3,600, resulting in real problems for African American males, who could be refused by White doctors or would not be able to see certain doctors because of the all-White nursing staffs. In Mississippi, a law also meant that medical treatment would be available to African Americans only after the White patients were all treated.

With all this in mind, Hunkele says that “scholarship on hospital segregation emphasizes the severe health consequences suffered by individuals who could not gain admittance to White-only facilities or overcrowded Jim Crow wards in biracial hospitals…All of these problems arose because of the Jim Crow Laws, which hindered blacks’ abilities to access proper medical treatment.” (On this, further see Karen Kruse, Deluxe Jim Crow: Civil Rights and American Health Policy, 1935-1954, Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2011). All this, it seems to me, lends veracity to Angeline’s account of Blind Willie Johnson’s death.

But there’s a lot about Johnson’s life that we don’t know. What we do know, says Michael Corcoran, is “that for a brief period of time, Johnson was a recording star, one of the most popular gospel “race” artists of his era.” And that his influence has been enormous, his songs covered down through the years by Rev Gary Davis and Fred McDowell, but also by more recent rock bands like the Grateful Dead, Led Zeppelin, Bruce Springsteen and the White Stripes. Eric Clapton called his slide work on It’s Nobody’s Fault But Mine “probably the finest slide guitar playing you’ll ever hear,” and Jack White of The White Stripes thinks Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground is “the greatest example of slide guitar ever recorded.”

And then, of course, there is the small matter of being launched into space. Johnson has the distinction of having one of his songs feature on a special recording sent aboard the Voyager spacecraft, launched in 1977 to head beyond the outer solar system into deep space – the Voyager Golden Record also contains music by Beethovan, Mozart and Stravinsky.

Willie Johnson’s songs were gospel songs – he sang out of his Christian faith. And yet these songs continued to be covered and are still being sung and performed and appreciated by believers and non-believers alike. I asked Corcoran why this is.

“The ferocity he brought to the guitar was unheard of previously. Plus, his most popular songs – Motherless Children, If I Had My Way, Nobody’s Fault But Mine aren’t overtly religious. Lyrics keep a lot of fans away from gospel, but Blind Willie’s music sounds secular as hell.”

To be fair, however, Johnson’s songs are overtly gospel – you only have to listen to Jesus is Coming Soon, Keep Your Lamps Trimmed and Burning, Sweeter as the Days Roll By or Latter Rain, to appreciate the depth of religious passion that drove Willie Johnson. Johnson was a Pentecostal – I wondered if that had a particular effect on his music making and singing. “It is interesting,” says Corcoran, “that his natural voice was so good. Every other gravel-voiced singer, like Tom Waits, takes that approach because their regular voice sucks. But since Johnson did almost all his singing on street corners for tips, he needed a gimmick to draw the milling crowds towards him. His mentor Blind Madkin Butler taught him that. Blind Willie recorded more songs without the false bass.” If you listen to Johnson’s songs, you’ll hear that he actually has a fine singing voice as opposed to the gravelly rasping you get on some of his songs – e.g. Let Your Light Shine On Me.

Johnson’s Pentecostalism comes out specifically in his Latter Rain, which is often misquoted, largely because most people don’t understand the origin of the term “latter rain.” This refers to the ancient prophet of Israel, Joel, who talked about God sending the early and the latter rain on the crops (Joel 2:23, 28). Joel 2 was quoted by Peter on the day of Pentecost in the New Testament, as foretelling the outpouring of the Spirit, and Pentecostals – whose movement had started in 1901 – went on to interpret the “early rain” as the initial outpouring of the Spirit on the Day of Pentecost in the 1st century and the “latter rain” as referring to their own movement of Spirit blessing.

I asked Michael if he had a couple of favourite Willie Johnson songs, and to name a favourite cover of a Willie Johnson song.

“I think God Moves On the Water is an incredible achievement for one man and a guitar. Mack McCormick said that Madkin Butler wrote it and taught it to Willie. I love the sentiment that arrogance sunk the Titanic, that God should get all the glory. Of course, another favorite is Dark Was the Night, though it’s been used in so many soundtracks it’s become old to me.” Then in terms of a favourite cover: “I don’t think anyone’s done a Blind Willie song better, but Cowboy Junkies came closest with Jesus Is Coming Soon from the God Don’t Never Change tribute album Alligator put out a couple years ago. I like Tom Waits’ version of Soul of a Man a lot, too. I wrote the liner notes, but it was more as an excuse to hit the road for more research. There’s not much out there to be found, so every little new bit of info is precious.”

For my own part, yes, Dark was the Night is an incredible performance by Johnson and the slide playing quite awesome. But Nobody’s Fault But Mine (“and that’s one of the few songs he recorded that he almost certainly wrote,” says Corcoran) is a song I always find remarkable, given Johnson’s circumstances of being blind, black and poor in the early decades of the last century in the American South. Life was unremittingly hard, so the sense of personal responsibility, despite all the adverse circumstances, is quite remarkable. But then, Willie Johnson is a quite remarkable man and musician, whose influence, as Michael Corcoran has emphasized for us, has been immense and still continues to this day.

[Check out our piece on the Blind Willie Johnson tribute album]

Thanks to Michael Corcoran for taking to time to discuss with me Texas music and Blind Willie Johnson.

Blues at the Crossroads Podcast: Episode 2 – Allison Russell on Songs of Our Native Daughters

Episode 2 of our podcast

Blues at the Crossroads.

It features a chat about Songs of Our Native Daughters, a stunning album by four women roots artists, Rhiannon Giddens, Allison Russell, Leyla McCalla and Amythyst Kiah, between Gary Burnett and podcast producer, Gemma Burnett, followed by an revealing interview with Bird’s of Chicago’s Allison Russell, in which she talks about the making of the album and her own family history.

“We had this kind of amazing experience of living together, working together, for twelve days and it was just kind of a creative explosion for each of us.”

Listen and subscribe here.

Larkin Poe talk blues, the soul of a song, and making authentic music

Larkin Poe are the Lovell sisters from Atlanta, Georgia. “I’m not Larkin, and she’s not Poe,” quipped Rebecca Lovell during their sold-out gig at Inchyra Arts Club near Perth, Scotland, where Lins Honeyman from the Gospel Blues Train and Gary Burnett from Down at the Crossroads had the opportunity to talk to these hugely talented artists.

Larkin Poe, actually, is an ancestor of the sisters and relative of the famed author Edgar Allan Poe. The pair launched the band in 2010 after a few successful years as a bluesgrass group along with their elder sister, Jessica, and have developed their own distinctive sound, a unique, blues-based Americana rock, which draws deeply on the well of traditional blues but adds their own very modern, high- energy take, featuring gorgeous harmonies and exhilarating electric slide guitar. American Songwriter said of them: “This isn’t your basic Stevie Ray Vaughan-styled blistering blues rock. It’s far more primal, malicious, and unsettling.” That’s true, but what’s also true is the warmth and good humour that’s folded in, which makes their performances massively appealing. [check out our review of their concert here]

The sisters have performed triumphantly at Glastonbury Festival in England, featured on T-Bone Burnett’s Lost Basement Tapes, been nominated for a Blues Foundation Award, and released four studio albums, the most recent of which, Venom and Faith, has reached number one on the Billboard Blues Album Chart and met with considerable critical acclaim.

Lins and Gary sat down with Megan and Rebecca prior to their gig to talk about the blues and their approach to making music, and found two highly articulate young women brimming over with enthusiasm for their music and life generally, and who had thought deeply about their musical heritage. Lins began by commenting on how well Venom and Faith has been received:

Rebecca: Oh yeah. I think this is one of the first tours that we’ve been out and folks are showing up really powering for the lyrics and a lot of the songs off the album. So in that respect it feels like it’s been well loved so far. We appreciate that!

Lins: Yeah, we’ve played quite few tracks on the show as well. And I know, Gary, it was certainly one of your best albums of 2018.

Gary: Yeah. We feature a “best of” album list at the end of every year. Venom and Faith definitely had to feature in our top few albums. It’s a great album, really, really good.

Rebecca: Thank you! We’re very proud of the way it came out. You know self-producing has been a fairly recent affair for us and it’s definitely been very natural. I think Megan and I enjoy the process of, you know, being siblings in the studio, just sort of allowed to have our own private language and to work really lean, mean and fast.

Megan: Absolutely. And Peach, our previous album to Venom and Faith was also produced by the two of us and we’ve just so enjoyed the freeing experience of it being just the two of us in the studio. It’s been so much fun to make these albums.

Lins: And being sisters, it must work for you and against you in certain ways?

Rebecca: Absolutely. I think that we have very limited experiences when it doesn’t work for us. Obviously having a sibling dynamic can be a very volatile and powerful relationship! I think it’s meant that over the years we’ve learned how to treat each other with respect and care, and, you know, I think of the Black Crowes who are not touring together because they have such big feuds and things like that, and we will not have that happen.

Gary: Well, tell us about the album’s title. It seems a little strange – Venom and Faith – conjures up for me strange religious sects handling snakes or something in the Appalachian hills!

Rebecca: Absolutely! That was that was part of the inspiration and it’s drawn from the lyrics of one of the tracks, Honey Honey. Yeah…I do like the juxtaposition of the two words and the fact that it does conjure up those images of a southern American Gothic type. Yeah, backwoods country church, where you’re sort of rolling the dice and…there is something, I think, in our music that summons up some of those sort of feelings. And, you know, some of the flavors of our music go from the dark to the light, tabbing some beautiful moments but also some grungy moments. So, it’s trying to represent that light and shadow, and Venom and Faith I felt was the right title.

Gary: Yes, it’s fabulous. And you’ve done some fantastic versions of old blues songs along the way – the Skip James song, Hard Time Killing Floor Blues on this album is probably the best cover of that song that I’ve heard. The Skip James version is very dark, but somehow, although you keep to the tradition, you manage to bring something fantastically fresh to it.

Skip James

Rebecca: That means so much! That is really one of our favorite songs that we’ve ever run across. We heard that song and we were just immediately obsessed, and the fact that it’s so modal, and major and minor, and it just it makes you feel a very specific way. And so we wanted to pay tribute to that.

Megan: And Skip James is one of the first blues guys that we really, really fell in love with. He’s definitely a mutual love of Rebecca and me.

Gary: And how do you go about choosing some of these old blues songs that you’ve done? You’ve done a few of them – some Son House and Robert Johnson and so on. How do you go about choosing and how do you go about interpreting a song?

Megan: I love this question. The answer to both those questions is kind of a gut feeling! Like, well we’ll stumble across a song that just feels right!

Rebecca: I think also it’s songs that we wish we’d written, like when you stumble across something that feels akin to something that you would have made up yourself. And so, then, the true nature of what the song should be or how we should interpret it – it just sort of feels like you’re rewriting it yourself. And to me that’s part of the beauty of American roots music – the fact that this is a very historic and, by American standards, ancient genre and yet you know there is so much shared feeling. The fact that it is one hundred years since the song was written means nothing. It still feels as relevant to us as it probably did to the people that were writing it. And so that’s really special.

Lins: And these songs, as you say, are ancient in American terms. But a hundred years is quite a sizable chunk between the original and doing a cover version. What makes these songs stand the test of time in your opinion? Because something must be great about those songs.

Rebecca: This is something Megan and I have talked about quite a bit – and that is, that the songs lyrically deal with matters of the human condition. You know, there is very little artifice in a lot of traditional blues tunes, just very raw emotions, very laid bare struggles of how to deal with your humanness, how to deal with sorrow, how to deal with being down and out. And I think that in our own specific ways, we can all relate to those feelings. So, to me, what really stands the test of time is a song that doesn’t deal too much with, you know, synthesizers or pop production, it really is about just the soul of the song.

Lins: Yes. It’s just getting down to the basics, isn’t it? It doesn’t mince its words. One such song which as far as I’m aware is not on any of your albums but I came across it on your Facebook feed, is a version of Blind Willie Johnson’s Soul of a Man. That was an incredible performance from the two of you. Any plans to put that on an album?

Megan: You never know! I guess it’s always unwritten and that that’s what’s exciting about the future.

Lins: And another song that we should mention – I think it’s from your Peach album – was John the Revelator and that recently got played at the end credits of the Fox TV series Lucifer.

Rebecca: It was very exciting! Again. I think it’s great to let these old songs, that have meant so much to so many people, have new lives in such unexpected ways. You know, I will admit though, we hadn’t watched the Lucifer TV show, and so of course we were hop-skipping into this one episode and telling our parents to watch it and not really knowing the premise of the show, and it’s a bit of a twisted kind of crazy show! But that was really fun. Just to see our music presented in this unexpected way.

Lins: It’s a great version as well. I mean, there have been so many versions of John the Revelator – every blues artist is probably done a version, but yours is up there!

Bessie Jones

Gary: I love the first song on Venom and Faith, Sometimes, the Bessie Jones song. The song sounds very up to date, but when you go back and listen to the original, with the clapping and so on, you’re tapping right into the whole spirit of that. What drew you to that song?

Rebecca: Well just the energy, I mean. And also, the power of her voice and the claps. It’s captivating, you know, and it’s a field holler, man, where you can feel the purpose of that song. And also, just wanting also to represent a Georgia girl – Bessie was from Georgia. And there was something we liked about that as well. It’s just a feel-good song.

Gary: Yeah, great song. I was also thinking about, you know, when we think of the blues we often think about the male artists, but of course in the history of the blues, the women were some of the biggest artists. And they’ve been ignored at times. How true is that still today – is it still difficult for women in this industry?

Rebecca: That is that is a complicated question with a complicated answer! And I think that different people would answer it in different ways. But I do think that you’re right, you know, historically women were absolutely the pioneers of blues and pop music, and they were some of the biggest pop stars of their time, at the turn of the century. And it does feel distinctly unfair that they are forgotten. That the role that they played in terms of pioneering the genre gets waylaid with time.

But, you know, we have had a very positive experience. I think that our parents raised us to kick the door down and do what it is that we want to do. And I think that that has served as well in the industry. Not willing to compromise. I mean, yeah you know, you can’t compromise who you are because that’s all you’ve got, right? Who said that? Janis – Janis Joplin. I like that’s all you’ve got, so you might as well just stick to your guns and by hook or by crook make the media that you want to make. And I think if more artists took that stand they’d be better – male or female.

Megan: Bottom line it’s hard to be in the industry, regardless of gender!

Rebecca: Yeah, and it’s so competitive. The music industry is so intensely competitive that you have to be willing to show up and work hard and be very tenacious. Extremely. Yes, so I think the short answer would be we haven’t felt our gender has had too much of a sway on our career thus far. And I think that that’s how it should be, that the art should speak for itself regardless of class, color, creed, gender, all the above. It should just speak to people and that should rise to the surface.

Lins: And what comes across is that the music is authentic – we’ve touched on that earlier on, that really with all your albums, the music comes across as being really, very real. Is that a specific thing in your head when you set out to record an album – that you’re gonna have to be as real as possible? Or does it not enter into your head and you just do it naturally?

Rebecca: No, it has entered our heads! I think that we have made records that we didn’t feel like they sounded like us. The studio can be a bit of a void sometimes. You can get in there and know who you are, but then technology allows you to try and create this hyper-perfect-ized robot version of yourself that’s auto tuned half to hell and everything’s grid aligned. And that doesn’t feel human anymore. And I think that we’ve made a distinct decision over these years to try and under-produce our records in order for the humanity in who we are as individuals to show through.

Megan: Which is part of the reason why we decided to self-produce because we definitely had that specific goal in mind. So, we knew going into it that we weren’t going to pick ourselves apart and that what we loved about discovering the blues was the raw nature of it and to try and keep some of that in the music. Leave the humanity in if possible.

Lins: And there are some great moments because you’ve also introduced some electronic elements later on the album which is great – just takes your kind of music into sort of a different level as well. Now, we’ve talked about our sort of favorite songs on the most recent album. What about yours?

Megan: Depends on the mood. But I’ve really, really enjoyed playing Bleach Blonde Bottle Blues every night. Because Rebecca brought that song very late in the recording process. In fact, I think it was written while we were in the studio. One of the last ones to show up and I just knew immediately when I heard that song it was gonna be one of my favorites. I was so excited to record it, so I would definitely put that as a top contender for me.

Rebecca: Thank you! I think that probably in terms of melding the old with the new, my favorite would have to be Fly Like an Eagle because that does feature a lot of the pop production. You know, we love Tom Petty – Tom Petty is one of the top pop guys ever, because he was a dude that could punch you straight out with a verse and then, bam, you’re into the chorus, and it’s that pop song structure. And I think that that’s been a big marker for us in wanting to do the blues, but also to marry it with more of a pop arrangement, and introduce, you know, a more modern-day sound palette, And Fly Like an Eagle was really fun – we’re from Atlanta, the home of hip hop, so you gotta throw it in!

Gary: But that’s the thing that I think is very appealing about your music. You’ve got this traditional blues underpinning, but you’re bringing the all these modern sorts of influences to bear. I was talking to Bruce Iglauer from Alligator Records recently and he was saying that what he looks for in an artist these days is that traditional base, but really bringing their own stamp to it. And it seems to me that you’ve really been able to do that these last couple of records.

Rebecca: Well I think just by not wanting to be in a time capsule is very important. Because there is zero, zero interest in us in being puppets of something that has already been. Because this is music that has been very real to people for a very real reason, and it served a very distinct purpose, and we don’t want to just piggyback off that. You know, we feel a deep respect for the blues and the masterful artists that pioneered the genre but we have to make it in our own way in order to, you know, not be talking out of our asses, pardon my French. But it’s true, you know, we’re growing up in the 21st century as white women and we want to be as authentic in that way with our own story as we can. Innovation is required!

Lins: Let’s talk about the guitar side of things. Megan, did you get it as a Christmas present as opposed to Rebecca, or how did you end up playing the slide? It’s an amazing sound and along with the voices, it’s what defines the Larkin Poe sound.

Megan: So yeah, we grew up listening to Alison Krauss and Union Station, and that’s of course featuring the legendary Jerry Douglas. So I definitely grew up with that kind of earworm. That sound in my head. And when we quit our classical violin lessons in our teens, we heard bluegrass for the first time and we decided we wanted to quit our classical lessons and hop over onto some acoustic instruments, y’know.

And I tried to play guitar and banjo and mandolin, but I guess me and fretted instruments don’t go well together! So I saw a dobro being played and that’s when I made the connection between the sound that I grew up listening to and what that instrument was. And it was dobro, so I start playing dobro, and later on when we started Larkin Poe, we wanted to experiment more with an electric sound.

Rebecca: So the lap steel just made sense, and kudos to Megan because you were, what 14 when you picked it up? It’s a very awkward instrument to play in just about every way, and the fact that you typically play it seated. And so Meghan, you’ve been very innovative in the way that you’ve repurposed slide – and she had this little contraption built so she can stand and walk around and rock out while playing the slide, and do it very effortlessly, especially considering just how challenging an instrument it is to play.

Megan: It’s not a very common instrument. I don’t know why, because it’s such a versatile instrument and it’s so expressive. What I love about it is the vocal quality of the instrument. I love to sing with Rebecca, I love to sing harmony. You know, we grew up singing harmony together, but I consider my voice to be the lap steel, not necessarily my actual voice!

Lins: And there’s something special when your voice intertwines with the lap steel, that’s just so much special.

Megan: It’s very fun. We certainly enjoy it especially a song like Good and Gone from the record. You know we so enjoy twinning together.

Lins: Fantastic. Excellent. It’s been a pleasure talking to you. Thank you!

Alligator Record’s Bruce Iglauer has been Bitten by the Blues

Luther Allison, Koko Taylor, Professor Longhair, Albert Collins, Johnny Winter, Elvin Bishop, Shemekia Copeland, Marcia Ball, Tommy Castro – just some of the star-studded cast of blues artists that Bruce Iglauer has worked with and have appeared on the record label he founded nearly fifty years ago.

Alligator Records has been a vital part of blues history over that period, and Iglauer has been at the forefront of promoting the blues, discovering new artists, and investing in the careers of established artists. He’s been a record company owner, record producer, record promoter, booking agent and tour manager along the way, as well as encourager and confidante to many of the Alligator artists, whom he counts as part of the family.

Bitten by the Blues is the story of Bruce Iglauer’s journey, the story of Alligator Records and, in many ways, the story of urban blues since the early ‘70s. It’s a hugely enjoyable insight into the world of the blues, the larger-than-life personalities of the artists, and what it takes to found and sustain a record label over several decades. When we spoke to Bruce Iglauer about the book, he told us:

“I didn’t want it to be for a completely specialized blues fan audience, and I certainly didn’t want it to be academic. I wanted to share my excitement about the music and the artists with a more general audience. I also thought/hoped that the business story (which was expanded at the request of our publisher, University of Chicago Press), would intrigue people who like this sort of American success story. Obviously the music that I love is quintessentially American, and it’s hard to imagine building a small business recording blues anywhere else. I just got an email from someone who was given the book and was inspired to start listening to the artists who were featured. If that’s the result, it’s a success!”

The book rips along at a nice pace and I found myself drawn in, wanting to know what happened next at every turn. It’s very detailed about incidents, people, dates and recording sessions, but these are part of a richly told story and contribute to a cohesive narrative. I did wonder, however, how Iglauer was able to remember everything. Maybe he kept a journal along the way?

“No,” he told me, “I just have a very good memory, at least for the most dramatic events of my career. In my life, I’ve been surrounded by very colourful and talented people and they made an indelible mark on me. It’s easy to remember talking with Howlin’ Wolf, because in my wildest dreams I never thought that could happen.”

Early in the book, he recalls traveling to Chicago in 1966 and hearing Mississippi Fred McDowell playing and he said it changed his life. I asked him why it had such an impact on him.

“That’s hard to explain. All I can say is that the music seemed so honest, so unvarnished, so direct, and it seemed like he was almost stripping himself naked emotionally. There was no pretence, no “show business.” He opened the door to his life and I was able to look in. Plus, he had probably lived a harder life than anyone I ever knew, and you could hear the strength that he got from living that live, and feel the wounds and the scar tissue. Blues is some of the happiest music on earth, but it’s happiness borne from overcoming pain, so the pain should be in the music too. That’s what I heard in Fred, though my response was a gut response, not an intellectual one. I felt this was music for me.”

The first band Iglauer signed and recorded, at a stage when he was a young blues fan in Chicago was Hound Dog Taylor and the House Rockers. He lovingly recounts his encounters with Hound Dog live performances and his subsequent first recording sessions. And he talks about the music being “infectious.” Which is maybe not the first word some people think of when they hear the word “the blues.”

But says Iglauer, “I think the easiest way to explain this is to listen to their music. It’s full of energy, danceable grooves, raw vocals, intense guitar—just the things that made early rock ‘n’ roll so appealing. And when they slowed it down, the catharsis that real blues engenders is right in front of the listener. And you can hear how much fun these three guys had playing together. If you can’t feel Hound Dog Taylor & The HouseRockers, and if they don’t make you smile, you’ve got a hole in your soul!”

Hound Dog Taylor

The story of Iglauer arriving in Chicago, working for Delmark Records in the basement of the Jazz Record Mart, and discovering the clubs and the artists who worked them, occupies the early chapters of the book and I wondered, what was it like, as a young white guy, a hippie, as Iglauer described himself, trying to engage with artists on the blues scene in Chicago in the 70s?

“Actually, not very difficult. The whole Chicago blues scene at the beginning of the ‘70s was on the South and West Sides of the city, and the audience was 99% black. The white people who came to the blues clubs were enthralled by the music and its creators. We weren’t neighbourhood people dropping in for a beer. We were fans. These were mostly not famous musicians, and they were pleased to have fans, especially ones who came to clubs that were in parts of the city that might be perceived as hostile to them. After I became a “record man,” there was a certain amount of suspicion of me, but when it became known that I paid royalties and welcomed musicians into my home (which was also my office), I was generally well accepted. Of course, I had to learn to speak with a Mississippi accent!”

As well as a music story, Bitten by the Blues is also a riveting story about business start-up and development, and, as with any business, you not only need a good product, you need good marketing and a huge dollop of hard work. I loved the account of Iglauer’s tenaciousness when he was trying to promote his first Alligator recordings – having signed the artist and overseen the recording and production, he drives to various radio stations in different cities to ensure radio play and doggedly contacts magazine journalists – hugely time-consuming, but the sort of effort that serious marketing requires. He carefully thought through his target audience and how best to reach them (at that time progressive rock radio, rock-oriented publications) and he was the first person marketing blues to that audience specifically.

“I also had to learn the existing ‘ropes’ – working with distributors, working with retailers, collecting money, dealing with financial issues, etc. A lot of it was my refusal to give up, and my willingness to work almost every moment. I never did learn engineering, though. I always found engineers who could hear like I do.

“As far as my “early success,” my success was pretty much just with Hound Dog. I sold enough Big Walter Horton albums to break even, and Son Seals, a complete unknown, was a money-loser for me. Still, part of the reason for my money-losses was that I was manufacturing and giving away literally thousands of promo LPs to radio, press and for in-store play. I could have had a much more modest label, but then I never would have reached the audience I was going after.”

One of the artists whom Bruce eventually signed was Luther Allison, but his history with Allison went all the way back pre-Alligator and he recounts a fascinating incident about trying to get Allison to sign an agreement for a new album with Delmark, which Allison declined to do. In the book, Iglauer said “I was unable to forgive Luther.” And it wasn’t until 20 years later that that relationship was repaired. I wondered about that…

“I was very hurt by Luther’s not being honest with me and leaving me so vulnerable. I could have, and probably should have, lost my job at Delmark because of him. I’m glad we made up but I never forgot what he did to me because he was just looking out for himself. It always kept some distance between us. I was happy to work with him but we didn’t become real friends. Still, people change and I accept that he was a different man in the 1990s than he was in the early 1970s.”

As I considered the colourful history of Alligator Records and Iglauer’s leadership over many years, I asked him if he had any regrets, looking back.

“Obviously, failing to hear the originality in Stevie Ray Vaughan and Robert Cray, both of whom I could have signed, makes me kick myself. Mostly, even though I’m a risk-taker, I’m sorry I didn’t take more risks on more unknown or developing artists, even though I’ve had plenty of failures (when I say failures, I mean financial failures, not artistic failures, though I’ve had some of them too) with unknown artists. Some worked out well, like Son Seals and Saffire – The Uppity Blues Women and Selwyn Birchwood. Some didn’t, like Michael Hill’s Blues Mob and Corey Harris. Many were mixed results. But I’m very proud of the quality of music on Alligator, and I hope it will stand for decades to come.”

As I read this roller-coaster history, I wondered if the young Bruce Iglauer knew then what he knows now of what was to transpire over the years, all the ups and downs, would he have done what he did?

Authors Iglauer & Roberts

“For sure (though I would have done it better!). There are other people who could have done what I have done with the blues, but no one else chose to do so and was able to combine musical and business and marketing skills in the way I have. There are other excellent producers, other smart business people and certainly there are better marketers than I am.  And many of those people would expect or hope to make more money than I ever thought about making. I’m very greedy, but my greed isn’t for money. It’s for being in the studio when a timeless recording is made, or in the audience when an Alligator artist makes that soul-to-soul connection with the listeners, or bringing a good arrangement idea to a rehearsal or encouraging an artist to write a fresh original song. The feelings I get in those situations are way better than money!”

One of the most hair-raising incidents in the book is the story about a train crash in Norway in 1978, during a Son Seals tour of Europe. I’ll not spoil the story for you – read the book! – but suffice it to say, thanks to the efforts of Iglauer and band members, nobody died.

Bruce told me, “It’s the only time in my life I’ve ever been brave; I was pretty sure I was going to die and I wanted to know that I had done the right thing. I could have escaped the train car but not without trapping the other passengers. I wasn’t willing to do that. I had always known since my father’s death that life is very fragile and there are no guarantees for the future. So, accomplishing something every day is necessary.”

Talking of accomplishments, what, I asked him, does he consider his greatest achievements?

“I can’t easily determine which things I’ve done have the most importance or are ‘the greatest’. I feel that Alligator (both myself and my great staff of 14) has been a crucial force in moving the blues forward and developing careers for many worthy artists. Of course that only happens with the artists’ talent and a huge amount of effort on their part. But the most important thing I can do is to assure that the blues will have new artists and new audiences in the future. That’s a continuing goal.”

Although he missed one or two opportunities to sign world-class artists along the way – Stevie Ray Vaughan was a case in point: “I couldn’t hear what made him special,” Bruce admits in the book – Alligator has had more than its fair share of top-class blues artists. What does Iglauer look for in an artist when he is thinking of signing them?

“First, passion. I want to feel the music is pouring from the deepest place inside the musician and that “it’s in him and it’s got to come out” (to quote John Lee Hooker). Originality – does the artist have something fresh to say, or a fresh way to say it? Blues is a traditional music, but you can’t impress me just by doing something that’s already been done. Take the tradition and make your own personal statement from it. Then I look for professionalism – can this person lead a band? (Not the same skill as making music with a band). Are they already advancing their own careers, at least by gigging locally and regionally? Are they capable of national/international touring? Do they have their personal lives together? Do I see a potential for them to continue to grow as artists? And do I feel I can work with them as people? But ultimately it’s a ‘gut’ thing. If it moves me, I’ll often take a chance, whether it’s Son Seals or Lindsay Beaver or Toronzo Cannon or Michael Hill.”

Towards the end of the book, Iglauer discusses the recent developments in the music industry – from CDs to downloads to streaming, and the fact that many of Alligator’s former indie label competitors have given up on the blues. What hope is there, I enquired, for independent labels these days?

“The role of labels, indie and major, keeps changing. However, the reality is that though many artists can afford to record their own music now, and make it available on the Internet and on various streaming and download services, there is little to push listeners to discover their music. The role of the labels can still be to bankroll the recording – which many artists need. The “you can do it yourself on your computer in Dad’s garage” is not a reality for people who can’t afford a computer or software and who don’t have a Dad or a garage, i.e. really poor people). And to create media excitement, get songs on streaming service playlists, help create live performance events, and of course also to manufacture and distribute physical CDs or LPs and get them places like Amazon and into existing stores – for that you need a real label with real distribution and marketing.”

And an active online presence is a vital part of this, using an artist’s website, online marketing, and social media.

Says Iglauer, “A few of the older, better-established artists can get away with not much online presence. For anyone on the way up, using any and every online marketing /communication form is absolutely necessary. First, a website that includes every upcoming date, a well-written bio, downloadable good quality photos and maybe a downloadable poster. Lots of Facebook presence. Post photos with fans all the time. Write about upcoming gigs. Even non-musical things….one of my artists did a FB Live from his kitchen while cooking his favorite dish. The artists must be available to their fans 24/7/365 or they appear to be assholes. I don’t know how anyone has a chance to write a song anymore, they’re so busy responding to online communication or Instagramming photos. But it’s all necessary.”

At the end of the book, Iglauer says, “As I get older and the blues move further from the mainstream of popular music, my mission of bringing forward the key artists of the next generation of blues seems ever more vital.” I wondered how confident he was that this can be done? Is blues now just music for old white people?

Selwyn Birchwood (photo: Allison Morgan)

“I am both confident and concerned. I need to find artists who are rooted in the blues tradition with just copying what’s been done before. Recently we’ve signed 20-year-old Christone “Kingfish” Ingram, and just-over-30 Selwyn Birchwood is working on his third Alligator album. Lindsay Beaver, a recent signing, is 33. But regardless of the artist’s age, I want to hear an artist who has a vision for making blues more contemporary, both in the lyrics and in the musical form. I’d like to hear someone making a real synthesis of blues and hip-hop. I’d like someone exploring new chord changes and song structures for blues, but still incorporating the emotions and the blue notes that are intrinsic to blues. I’m sure that humans need the intense catharsis that the blues (at its best) can stir, and the soul-soothing quality of the blues. But can I find the artists who can convey those things in a way that the modern audience (and the future audience) will feel and understand? I’m not sure, but it’s my mission.”

Bitten by the Blues is a well written and utterly engaging insight into how Alligator grew from a standing start into the largest independent blues record label in the world, with hugely entertaining stories of record deals, live performances, studio recording and the lives of important blues artists. If you’re a blues or roots music fan, or a music fan interesting in a behind the scenes look at the history of the music industry, or have an interest in the story of true entrepreneurship, then Bitten by the Blues is a must-read.

Bitten by the Blues, Bruce Iglauer and Patrick A. Roberts, Chicago Press.

Listen to our new podcast: Episode 1 – Blues Legend Joe Louis Walker

We’re delighted to launch our new podcast,

Blues at the Crossroads.

It features a chat about Journeys to the Heart of the Blues, from Joe Louis Walker, Bruce Katz and Giles Robson between Gary Burnett and podcast producer, Gemma Burnett, followed by an interview with Joe Louis Walker.

“The blues is consistent, it’s constant, you know? It constantly speaks to the harder side of life.”

Listen and subscribe here.

 

Allison Russell: Songs of Our Native Daughters – joy, resilience and beauty out of horror

Allison Russell is one half of the acclaimed Americana band, Birds of Chicago, along with her husband, JT Nero. Formerly a member of the Canadian roots act, Po’ Girl, Allison is a talented multi-instrumentalist, singer and song-writer. Birds of Chicago has released three top notch studio albums, including last year’s Love in Wartime, produced by Luther Dickinson and JT.

Paste Magazine called the band an “Americana gospel dream team” after hearing their 2016 Real Midnight album, NPR’s Folk Alley included the album in their top 10 favourite albums of the year. Here at Down at the Crossroads, we had both Real Midnight and Love in Wartime in our top 10 Americana albums of 2016 and 2018 respectively. We said of Love in Wartime, “JT Nero’s and Allison Russell’s vocals and rich harmonies meld wondrously, and the song arrangements are innovative and imaginative while, at the same time, warm and inviting.”

Allison Russell has recently been involved in another project, along with Rhiannon Giddens, Amythyst Kiah and Leyla McCalla, with an album about to be released. Entitled Songs of Our Native Daughters, the thirteen-track album explores the history of slavery and its legacy, especially from the point of view of black women. It’s a stunning piece of work, a tour de force, musically, lyrically and thematically. Rhiannon Giddens, the driving force behind the album, has said that she sees this album “as a part of a larger movement to reclaim the black female history of this country.”

Gemma and Gary from Down at the Crossroads had a long chat with Allison Russell about Songs of Our Native Daughters. We asked her, first of all, who the major artists involved in the project are and what the album is about.

Allison Russell: Well, it’s a project that was envisioned and produced by Rhiannon Giddens and she invited myself, Layla McCalla, an absolutely fabulous cellist and writer, multi-instrumentalist as well, and Amythyst Kiah, a fabulous writer and multi-instrumentalist to join her for twelve days just outside of Lafayette, Louisiana in the bayou country. We went down to Dirk Powell’s studio there and it began with exploring some reclaimed minstrel tunes and slave songs that Rhiannon had. She really wanted to have modern women of black heritage, writers, to kind of delve into that material and see what came up. And it was really quite brave of her, because we all sort of took a leap of faith, in that we had none of the material for the original songs we wrote for the project. You know, we’d all had some ideas but everything was written in those 12 days, so we would be, you know, literally writing everything with the exception of Momma’s Crying Long. That’s a piece that Rhiannon had written previously but had not found a home for yet. And Amythyst had a couple of verses that were floating around to Blood and Bones but it hadn’t fully formed yet. And so, we had this kind of amazing experience of living together, working together, for twelve days and it was just kind of a creative explosion for each of us. And there are a lot of threads within each of our lives.

We’re all obviously very different musicians and writers with very different backgrounds, but we do have in common the experience of being, you know, visible minorities within a country that is still really struggling with the legacy of racial fear and a reactionary kind of backlash of hatred. Of course, the last couple of years especially, it’s become clear that that’s not laid to rest. That the legacy of slavery is not resting easily by any means yet, in America particularly.

And so, all kinds of things came up. All of us are artists who are working more within a kind of a folk or Americana framework, where we are not the majority within that framework. And so, we’ve each experienced people – usually, I think, meaning well and just not realizing – you know, like being taken for another artist of color, or, the assumption that, oh well we’ve already got one banjo-playing black so we don’t need another one at this festival – that kind of thing. And you think, oh my goodness, can you imagine if that same metric were applied to, you know, white gentlemen that play guitars – it would be ridiculous! You know, we don’t need Bob Dylan, we’ve already got Neil Young. It’s just so silly. It’s just so absurd when you extrapolate it to something that’s more commonly accepted.

So, it was really interesting, where we were all kind of delving into our own histories…I did a lot of reading leading up to it. The name of the project is Songs of Our Native Daughters. It’s a reference to James Baldwin’s Notes of a Native Son which was his first non-fiction book that was published in 1955 and was, I mean, just groundbreaking. What he was writing was unimaginable back in 1955. Obviously, James Baldwin is a writer and a thinker, a vast influence, not just in America, but internationally. He was a sage of our times and he was so erudite and had this academic approach that made it digestible and understandable for people outside of the black community as well. And so, we were kind of rereading that and wanting to have a similar kind of discourse, if you will, or an exploration of that uncomfortable history within our times. But from a more kind of woman-centered and obviously musical perspective.

Gemma: Yeah, well I love the album, Allison, and it was really powerful. But I appreciated about hearing women’s voices and writing women back into history.

Allison Russell: Yes, exactly.

Gemma: I was listening to Polly Ann’s Hammer for the first time when I was walking into work and I just burst into tears in the streets, literally. It was so emotional just thinking about women’s strength in the way that they have been written out of history, and for black women especially. It was very powerful. It just moved me.

Allison Russell: Oh, I’m so glad you brought up that song. That’s an example of what I’m talking about. So here we’re in this process and we’re all kind of bouncing ideas off each other and we’re all writing madly. You know the night before we’d be madly finishing three songs and then recording the next day! We finished all the recordings in about ten days and then just did a few harmonies and things like that, overdubs, but most of it was done live and in real time with the Smithsonian videographer there capturing some of the process – it was just everything happening at once! And that morning, it was our last day in the studio with some of the other musicians that were involved – Jason Sypher who was playing bass and Jamie Dick who’s playing drums.  And we were doing interviews with the Smithsonian as well. Rhiannon was on her way out the door from our shared Airbnb, and she said, “Oh you know it occurred to me maybe we should write a song from Polly Ann’s perspective.”

And it was like a bolt from the sky! Amythyst was in the middle of doing her interviews and I started madly scribbling lyrics because I just thought, that’s brilliant!

She’s been there all along, hasn’t she? In those John Henry legends and songs there’s this castoff line – he had this woman Polly Ann who, you know, picked up a hammer and drove steel – and you never hear about her again!

And John Henry dies. He’s killed by this backbreaking labor. And I just started thinking, well Polly Ann didn’t die. As usual, the woman did the job of the man, and then got on with raising the kids! Kept the family together after he died. And so, I was sort of envisioning – here’s this heroine that has been hiding in plain sight all along. She kept the family going and somebody had to to keep the legend going, you know. And it’s Polly Ann! She survived. She did the work, and she helped the kids to go beyond the life of labor they had had. Yeah. Oh, I’m so glad you brought up that song.

Gemma: Yeah, it’s just phenomenal. But there’s another strong woman, of course, in the song Quasheba, Quasheba which is which is really moving and I knew that you wrote that one. Can you tell us a bit about it?

Allison Russell:] I can. I was born and raised in Montreal, Quebec in Canada and I didn’t know my biological father, growing up. I had a French foster family for several years, and then I was raised by my mom and her husband. My mom is a Scottish Canadian. It’s a troubled family and she married a very abusive man, and so the father who raised me, my adopted father, was this very abusive, racist character, and, you know, I just didn’t know what it was to have a real father.

And then when I was 30, I got very curious about my other side – because I was always not like the others. I was always having to explain, yes that’s my mother, yes, she’s my biological mother. In a branch of the family who weren’t particularly accepting of her, you know, born-out-of-wedlock brown child. But my uncle, my mom’s older brother, helped me find my biological father because my mother and he were in high school when she got pregnant. My father had been finishing high school in Montreal from Grenada. Grenada is a tiny little island nation – three little islands very close to Trinidad and Tobago and the West Indies. My father finished his education in Canada, but he and my mom had already broken up and he’d gone back to Granada by the time my mother realized she was pregnant. So, I never met him. Grenadians, it’s such a tiny, tight knit community and there’s only about 350,000 Grenadians in the whole world. And two thirds of them are abroad making their livings. So, my uncle had a girlfriend in high school who was Grenadian and he was able to track her down through Facebook and ask about my father.

And lo and behold, this old girlfriend’s aunt went to church with my father’s sister-in-law. So, within 24 hours of me saying, “I’m interested in meeting my biological father,” I got a phone call and it was my father!

Yeah, it was quite amazing. And so that was, gosh, that’s eight years ago now. And we have had a wonderful relationship. Now it turns out that he had quite an intense early adulthood, because he was sort of on the wrong side of the Cold War. There’s a lot of people don’t know that history, but in ‘82 Grenada was invaded by the U.S. because they had received money from Fidel Castro to build a commercial airport – not a military airport, but the cold war was so intense in the early ‘80s that that was seen as sort of a provocation, and Grenada was invaded. And my dad was a young idealistic socialist and was on the wrong side of that line and lost his job. His wife also lost her job and they ended up having to move to make a better life for themselves elsewhere and they wound up in Toronto, Ontario. And I have two siblings on that side, a little sister and a brother.

And so that’s where I got to meet them when I was 30 years old. They were in Toronto while I was in Montreal. They were only a few hours away for all those years. But I didn’t know!

Anyway, my father’s eldest sister, Denise, decided to hire a historian to help her put together a history of the family. And they were able to discover records of Quasheba, sold off the coast of Ghana and traded hands many times. She eventually wound up in Tobago, and then Grenada and then had – we don’t know how many children she had. But there’s a record of a daughter also named Quasheba, who was actually kidnapped by a plantation owner in Grenada, but she had somehow or other learned midwifery skills and she was able to make somewhat of a life for herself that way – I guess the owner would sell her to other plantations, would sort of rent out her services to other plantations, and so the story of this woman Quasheba…there was this oral kind of thread as well within our family. There was, like, the mystery of this woman.

But the historian my aunt Denise hired was able to track down more information about her, and it was so powerful to learn her name and a little bit about her story. And I am grateful to have that knowledge and I’m grateful for her resilience because literally our entire family and this huge George clan (that’s the last name of my father’s people) wouldn’t exist without her. There’s so much of the narrative around slavery understandably focuses on how horrific it was, and it was obviously. But it’s kind of like taking away a little bit of the everyday heroism of surviving that.

You know we don’t talk about that. We don’t talk about the strength and the resilience. And that’s a gift that gets passed on to subsequent generations. That’s part of it too. But that’s not a story unique to slavery in North America. I mean, on my mom’s side you know, they were Scottish crofters and were turfed out by the Lairds when the clan system fell.  On my mom’s side, my great grandfather came over and lied about his age – he was 16 and his brother was 14 and they were basically begging in the streets in Edinburgh, and then they got on a ship. Lied about their ages and got on the ship and wound up in Saskatchewan. Which I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Saskatchewan, but I can’t imagine surviving the winter there when you’re a child from Scotland! But somehow, they did. He and his brother got a land grant and they somehow survived and made the farm thrive enough to make a living. But his little brother wound up dying at the Somme.

Gemma: Well I’m glad you brought up resilience because that was something I wanted to ask you about. Because that’s a very strong theme in the album as well, despite all the harrowing stories. That theme of resilience…and joy is there as well. And it struck me that joy is a form of resistance.

Allison Russell: Yes, it is. It is a form of resistance and love in a time of war or hatred is a form of resistance.

Gemma: And it’s necessary right now.

Photo: Terri Fensel

Allison Russell: Yes. Yes, I feel it is. And my adopted country of America – I am Canadian but my husband is American – I’ve married into this country, my child has been born here. It’s a very, very intense time here, a lot of hidden turmoil and pressures that have come to the surface.

You know, with this character in charge, he’s kind of doing the whole reactionary fear-mongering, us and them nonsense that tries to divide people, and so I feel like it wasn’t an intentional reaction to that, but you can’t help but kind of dig in. All that we know how to do is write songs, you know, and commune with people, but more and more I’m realizing it’s so important, there are so few avenues left where people with differing political views, or religious views, or social views, or socio-economic backgrounds, or cultural backgrounds can get together in a room and be decent to each other.

And music, live music, is one of the few avenues where that still happens. And it can change people’s ideas about things and it can lessen their fear and make them feel more connected. And when you feel connected and empathetic, then you’re not going to lock children up at the border. You know you’re not going to do it.

So, I do feel like, you know, singing songs and writing songs that hopefully people can connect to and with and feel our common humanity – that’s not nothing, that’s something I cling to.

Gemma: And it’s a very intimate experience.

Allison Russell: Yeah. Yeah. Exactly.

Gary: Yes, the album certainly felt to this non-American very important, right at this particular point in time in history with all this going on, Allison.

Allison Russell: Yes. We all felt a kind of urgency, I think. Aside from we were under the clock timeline – we only had 12 days together. But there was a feeling of urgency. We have to respond to some of the poison in the atmosphere here. If just to dig in on the beauty and the connection. You know, another theme in the album that really emerged, I noticed, was this idea that the separation based on a superficial visual trigger like someone has darker skin and someone has pale skin is so false.

And, you know, you just have to scratch the surface of America. Thomas Jefferson, one of the founding fathers, he had an entire black family. And a black mistress, by all accounts. This was probably the half-sister of his white wife. I mean it just goes on and on, and he ends up emancipating the children from that union later, and eventually, finally, Sally, his, you know, well if someone can be called a mistress when they’re an enslaved person – yes, the black mother. You know, this is at the heart of America. And nobody talks about it. One side had darker skin, one side had paler skin and one side was exploiting the other. But it’s the same family. It’s not a different family; it’s one big dysfunctional family and that is something that gets hidden and glossed over too often. I mean that was that’s why I was so thrilled when the Hamilton musical came out because you know finally someone is talking about – this is a mixed-race person. This was not a white person.

Gary: So, tell us about when you were making the album. When you were collaborating, the four of you together, how did you decide on who was going to sing on what songs and what the arrangements were going to be?

Amythyst Kiah

Allison Russell: You know it all kind of happened very organically. I’d say that the obvious delineations of leads were, if you wrote the song, generally you sang it. But for the co-writes, on a couple of them, we were sort of trading verses. Or in the case of Blood and Bone, that was just so clearly Amythyst had that chorus – I just want to hear her voice on that song! It’s strong in the sense that we co-wrote it, but it was just very clear to me that she should be the one to sing it, and it ended up just very natural. It wasn’t an orchestrated, “OK, now you sing this and I’ll sing that” – it just kind of happened naturally, very organically, as we just sort of worked on things. And we’d try things a couple of different ways sometimes and then it would feel really good one way and less good the other, so we’d do it the way it felt really good!

Gary: But of course, you were four very talented musicians and artists. And one thing I noticed is that the banjo features quite a bit on the album. All four of you are banjo players?

Allison Russell: Yes, we are! And we all play different banjos which is amazing actually. That was all Rhiannon. One of the things that she wanted to do is really feature the banjo. And part of that goes back to the unfortunate kind of tokenism that sometimes happens or novelty, like, oh it’s a black girl playing the banjo. How sweet! But it’s a deeply American instrument which could not have existed without Africans being brought to this land. And so, it’s a unique union between African and European and enslaved traditions. And it’s just beautiful. It rises above, sort of tapping into that idea of joy and resilience and beauty coming out of horrific things. And the banjo is a shining example of that. So, it felt powerful and emblematic to all of us and we’ve all used it a lot.

Photo: Terri Fensel

It’s my second instrument that I primarily write on. I am by far the poorest banjoist of the group. But I write a lot on the banjo. But I’m not the shredder! That’s Amythyst. She can rip a beautiful solo and I’m more of a rhythm and textural player and I use it for writing predominantly. I’m more of like a songwriter who also happens to play the banjo and write songs on the banjo.

I loved the way our banjo voices sounded because they’re all quite different. Rhiannon plays this incredible minstrel banjo from the eighteen hundreds, which is a fretless, gut string banjo with a very deep voice. Amythyst plays a steel string, a five-string, smaller sort of sharper-voiced banjo which is gorgeous. Layla plays a four-string tenor banjo which has totally different voicings and sounds. And then I play a kind of a hybrid. Sort of an open G kind of claw hammer style banjo. But I converted mine to be closer to a gut string. It’s called Nylgut and it won’t be as affected by temperature and altitude and things. And it has a kind of fiber skin as close as a synthetic skin can be to the original goat skin. And so, these four banjos have such different voices and it was really lovely. There were a couple of pieces where we were all playing the banjo at the same time. Just something about the harmonics of it. and it just felt like the spirits were gathering or something. It was really affecting and beautiful.

Gary: Who knew there were so many types of banjo!

Allison Russell: Oh, there are so many!

Gary: And we detected your clarinet coming through a time or two as well!

Allison Russell: Yes, I was the one woodwind player in the group and they let me play the clarinet a couple of times.

Gary: We like the clarinet and it’s lovely to hear it coming in now and again!

Allison Russell: Oh, I’m so glad. I love the clarinet! You know if I’m at a jam session or something that’s my axe to jam on! Yeah. To me it feels like an extension of voice. I always have loved the sound of it. I didn’t come to playing instruments until later in my early 20s. I was sort of trapped in what I call the singers’ ghetto before that, where people say, oh you’re a musician and you say, yes I sing, and they’re like, oh you’re a singer, you’re not a musician! So, I decided I’ve got to get out of the singers’ ghetto, I’ve got to learn some instruments. I started actually with guitar which I don’t even really play anymore, and then found the clarinet and then the banjo.

Gary: Fabulous. Now Songs of Our Native Daughters is on the Smithsonian Folkways label. What’s the background to that?

Allison Russell: Well, that was already in place before Rhiannon invited us. I mean that was part of why she was able to invite us all to do it, because the Smithsonian very generously supported and funded the project for us.

And I think it was very important for her to have been involved with the Smithsonian, because so much of the source material that she has researched and delved into has come from the Smithsonian archives. Rhiannon’s like a musicologist, you know; she’s really gone in deep with the archival material in a way that I’ve just scratched the surface. And in fact, most everything that I’ve learned about early American and African-American music has come from Rhiannon. She has really gone in deep with the archives and the research and piecing things together. The inspiration for this project came when she was walking through the new museum of African-American History and Culture. And she was struck by a quotation of William Cowper’s, which was a kind of a satirical poem about the slave trade. He was a great abolitionist, of course, and was horrified by the slave trade and was doing everything he could to get it banned. But Rhiannon was so struck by this poem and how it correlated to our modern times and the kind of hidden slavery that occurs off our shores. You know – people in factories in Sri Lanka being paid nothing and having the factory collapse on their heads so that we can have clothes or cheap watches or phones or whatever it is.

So, she was really drawing that line from the past to the present, so that just kind of got the whole idea percolating to do something like Songs of Our Native Daughters. So, she wrote the Smithsonian a proposal and they got on board. I think they’re really making a point of not just having the archival source material and recordings – they really want to support modern artists who are continuing these traditions. And I think it’s so wonderful because very few places are left that that do that. We’re very grateful to them.

Gary: So, have you any plans to tour this album Allison?

Allison Russell: Well, it’s funny, Rhiannon and I were just talking about that this morning. We were talking about how tricky it is, because of course everybody’s juggling their individual projects as well. But we all want to very much. We did kind of a little preview of Songs of Our Native Daughters. Rhiannon had a residency at Symphony Space in New York City for four weeks and we did two shows where we previewed a lot of the material and it was so well received. People there gave us such great feedback about it. And there’s been such a lovely response from some journalists and wonderful music sites like yours. So, we all want to do some sort of touring around it. It’s just going to be tricky to figure out the timing. But certainly, this summer I think we’ll be doing some festivals together and we’re trying to figure out a time perhaps in the Fall to do a little run.

Gary: You definitely need to do that because it’s a fantastic album! The music’s great and of course the themes are so very important. So, you definitely gotta do that. Now, I know that you’ve been touring hard with The Birds of Chicago, Allison but you’ve another project coming up in March, playing a number of venues with Luther Dickinson and Amy Helm. Now that is some line up!

Allison Russell: Luther and Amy have become like family to us. Luther and his wife and their daughters are here in Nashville and we’ve relocated here within the last year. Our little girls have a band together and they all love each other and they go to the same school, and it’s just become, you know, it’s become quite a family affair! And Amy as well. The record we’re supporting with that tour in March is coming out on New West on March 22^nd, Sisters of the Strawberry Moon. But we actually recorded it three years ago! And that’s how we really got to meet. Got to know Luther and got to know Amy and the last few years we’ve become friends and all of these projects have grown out of it. And JT and Amy have started writing a lot together and there is this kind of happy collaboration and deep friendship has ensued. But we all sort of thought about the record, it’s not going to come out. But then, lo and behold, there they’re releasing it in March. So, we were all so pleased to have an excuse to tour together you know!

Gary: And your Birds of Chicago Love in Wartime is a fantastic album which gone down really, really well. You must be delighted with the way that’s been received.

Allison Russell: Oh, we were thrilled about it. We feel so grateful. And we’ll be coming up on a year since it was released at the end of May, and it’s just been such an inspiring year of getting to connect with people all over the world. We came to Ireland and Scotland and England and the Netherlands, and a little bit in Germany, and Canada, and of course in the U.S. It’s been really lovely and we’re so grateful for people listening and coming out to support the shows and, you know, we definitely don’t take that for granted and we’re so grateful for it.

Gary: Allison, thank you so much, you’ve been very generous with your time. Thank you for being so open with us.

Allison Russell: Yes, thank you. It’s been a pleasure!

Songs of Our Native Daughters is released on February 22nd.