ahoy! get ye-spelunkin’ those deep-low delta origins tonite!, on your’s truly’s one-and-only midnight-radio-research-show-in-the-foothills, the GREAT AMERICAN LULLABYE !!!
listen in for charley patton, tommy johnson, & the best of that early generation of so-called bluesmen. from stovall to will dockery’s to the pea vine in between, we’ll chart the landscape of the upper delta, and look at how the music got made, & where it got sent.
on KVMR 89.5fm on the dial, sierra foothills thru sacramento!
the notable non-standards were mostly stuff from the Gastonia Gallop comp–this fatalistic subgenre of songs about mill life that David McCarn is really the best-known guy from:
“Cotton Mill Colic” (May 19, 1930, Memphis) mp3 from the awesome JUNEBERRY 78s archive
“Poor Man, Rich Man” (November 19, 1930, Memphis) mp3
with Howard Long: “Serves ‘Em Fine” (May 19, 1931, Charlotte) mp3 (clip, unfortunately, but lyrics are here)
and other popular stuff from the piedmont–
their song about (apparently, christ) the best way to get hammered in prohibition North Carolina: “Bay Rum Blues” (same session) mp3
a bad man ballad (now better known as “Duncan & Brady”) from Wilmer Watts & the Lonely Eagles: “Been On the Job Too Long” (October 29 or 30, 1929, New York) mp3
there was also stuff about automobiles and country music but that’s mostly boring
I wanted to play stuff from the ’29 strike by Ella May Wiggins, but this is the only recording of one of her songs I could find: the Pete Seeger version of “Mill Mother’s Lament”: youtube (first half) but there are interesting videos about her, like this one: youtube
there’s probably an archive of the show up on the site now, but this is a lot more streamlined/error free/without era-setting cuckoldry songs from the Gastonia stuff
this is not really a “country song” so much as it is “a british post-punk band covering gp/the byrds” but it is APPARENTLY not on youtube so we’ll have to make do with mediafire: (the) mekons’ “$1000 wedding” off the “slightly south of the border” ep/thingy. i’m not 100 percent on this but it seems to be from the same sessions as “the edge of the world,” their ’86 album that sort of followed the country-postpunk line that “fear & whiskey” insofar as they kept using traditional american instrumentations & forms as their basis. but “edge” drifts further from “fear & whiskey” and its pretty strictly nashville-or-postpunk axis: the song with the titular line, “shanty,” is definitely not within the normal purview of the appalachians or the southwest, “big zombie” sort of messes around with louisiana’s sounds, “slightly south of the border” itself sort of sounds more than a little like the pogues,* and unfortunately “the letter” is not a box tops cover.
“slightly south” is less interesting than “edge” or “fear & whiskey”–an alternate take of the titular track, the waltz “coal hole,” and the found sound (or seemingly apparently found sound) piece “rescue mission.” and then “$1000 wedding,” the one cover from this period. i suppose it makes sense that they’d feel some sort of reinterpretative kinship with gp but then i don’t want to put words in their mouths. so anyways ENJOY THE SONG y’all
Where is he! Where is he! We can’t find him anywhere!
*
The most conspicuous name in our recent rock’n'forays — or, more appropriately, they have been rampages — is a relatively simple set of syllables to roll off the tongue: BOB JAXON. But this fella, believe you me, buried down with all the other swingin’-but-not-quite-swampin’ RnB-tinged numbers from some of our early rock compilations, ain’t quite swingin’ in the same ballpark. To be frank: he’s a cut above the rest, and a crazy cut, at that. While others have got their saxophones blaring and are shuffling to old dance-hall beats in exclamation of the new King Rock’n'Roll, Bob Jaxon and his fond (but sadly, unnamed!) compatriots are ushering in the era of teen competency — and making slick, beach-toned music for those already in the know. WITH KILLER GUITARS! Did I mention all those killer guitars?
It was a song like this one, sticking out like a beautiful sore thumb after the end of some Rusty Draper (change yr curtains, Ma!) singles that really did me in:
And by that I mean: won me over. Think: bowled, like a midwestern shack in a tornado.
(Excuse the poor sound quality, cits & citizens — I promise you it’s glorious, and worth getting your grimey-gorgeous paws all over. Buy it!)
Here’s the B-side:
Pretty damn good — and understandably: by January of 1957, the young Bobby Jaxon, washed up and runnin’ scared in the receding tide of standard-old 50s melodic pop, and hopped frantically aboard the rushing train of nascent rock — and landed himself a sweet little contract with RCA Victor. His first single did pretty well for itself — enough so that RCA renewed him for two more single releases, including, among the hard-to-find A sides, these proud few gems:
(see what I mean about the guitars?!?)
(Really: wish we could find the A-side. Its title, just for a teaser: “(Gotta Have Something in the) Bank, Frank!”)
((We loveyou, Bob Jaxon !!!)
His third single release on RCA Victor was a split with “Declaration of Love” and ‘I’m Hurtin’” inside. However, during the session, Bob Jaxon also laid down an Otis Blackwell track — apparently pretty famous in the era — that’s now made it on to the lacquered halls of internet posterity:
(Please excuse the inexplicable/boobalicious pictures. We here at IT’SYERMISFORTUNE usually explicitly refrain from posting such things — but when you’ve got a chance to listen to more Bob Jaxon, well — you’ve got a chance to listen to more Bob Jaxon!)
By 1959, Jaxon’s popularity had waned, and things were on the skids with RCA Victor. They ceased to renew his contract — but that didn’t bother Bob Jaxon, who had been itching for years to write his own material. So he bloomed like a daffodil in the spring, and, in 1959, signed with ABC Paramount, and turned out this fine piece of Americana:
– and that’s our beautiful Bob Jaxon! Or rather: all we can find of him! The internet says that he’s still lurking around somewhere, after his career in New York quietly and slowly faded from the annals of memory (I doubt it worked like that). All this to say: WE LOVE YOU !!! Come back, Bob Jaxon!
come back & haunt us!,
jessi
xoxo
PS — Jeff appeared! Everybody, Jeff appeared! Now, wasn’t that wonderful! Wasn’t that just like the coy ol’ sun cutting out from behind a cloud on a wintry day! THANK YOU JEFF PLEASE KEEP POSTING YOU ARE WONDERFUL!
Continuing the egregious food mentions with egregious food-related accounting: The Barker Bros. with “Hey Little Mama”!
A song not just about going to a record hop but how “I got thirty-five cents invested in you-ou [entry: 25¢, not counting Monty Barker's own 25¢, plus 10¢ for a Coke and a candy bar], what’cha gonna do now?”
To be fair to Monty she’s done the chicken and the stroll with everybody else, and he is lookin’ pretty good:
Yup, that's Monty and Freddy Baker up there on the cover.
Oh rockin’ baby, won’t you — darlin’ ! — please be mine!
The two most egregious food references in the (not-so-recent) history of rock’n'roll, for your lunchtime jive & enjoyment:
Eddie Fontaine. “Cool It Baby” — including the to-die-for perplexing line: “I love your eyes — I love your lips — they taste even better than potato chips!” (And if it’s not perplexing, it’s just gross.) [Followed by that to-die-for chorus: "Cool it, baby! Make like a crazy freak!" You cool it, Eddie. You're already doing a pretty good job.]
Buddy Holly & the [Chirping] Crickets. “Empty Cup.” This song takes the cake — and is what first got me started thinkin’ about crazy food references in the dating (and consumption?) culture of the teen stratocaster 1950s. In short, haven’t you ever felt this way? “Just like this coke, my love is gone …”
Now imagine a full band … at ten in the morning. Now take yr wildest dreams
& toss ‘em. It’s better than all that.
Howdy, citizens! Long time no post … and no paycheck, either! But, we’re here, live and in the flesh (and of course, the spirit, too), from our very own beloved WSRN 91.5FM, loud and strong outta Swarthmore, Penna. We’ve got a special treat for you today — Tristen & the Ringers, proud sirens & troudabours of recent Nashville descent, stopped by today for a little bit of banter and a whole lot of blowing our minds. Truly, we’re in love.
The session will be uploaded here as soon as the gods permit*, but, for now, listen! Tune into Jeff’s show, “Mountains of Eternal Light, ” on WSRN tonite, 6-8pm! Or tune in, again, to “troubles, troubles (trouble on my mind)” on Tuesday, from 8-10pm! We’re bringing you five-give-or-take brilliant cuts from Tristen’s “Charlatans at the Golden Gate,” and a bonus track that will make you pee yourself.
* clap yr hands three times if you want to help the gods permit!
UPDATE: In case you lost tune with us due to the Phantom Unpredictable Windstorms, tune back in on Tuesday night — we’ll be playing Tristen & co. a-glorious-gin, alongside all sorts of brilliant swamp-pop, and, you know, Linda Ronstadt amoung the pigs.
Is this the right lineup?!? I don’t even know how to tell anymore !
Now, I know next to nothing about Fleetwood Mac. Next to nothing, except for the fact that my ex-boyfriend’s dog’s sister-dog (and the brother-dog of my West Coast pal Jesse, too — hi, Jesse!) is named Stevie, as in, Stevie Nicks. That, and this kid I don’t talk to anymore once wrote me a letter about Stevie Nicks, and called her “heroine pretty.” I thought that that was kind of wonderful.
SO: apparently, the bar is pretty high. I know lots about Fleetwood Mac, so this little episode of rambling is going to serve to put that in perspective.
*
I know nothing about Fleetwood Mac. I’m interested in the origins and history of their music. I’m interested in the 1970s, which are a time period as foreign to me as, well, everything after that. I’m interested in this strange hybrid form that seems unique to the 70s, “stage-driven ballad, with woman singer and backing male band,” which may or may not be distinct from its apparent 80s successor, the “power ballad.” And more importantly than all that, I am interested in the origins and meaning of the term “Fleetwood.”
Now, I’ve seen “Fleetwood” in alot of places. First of all, there’s a fantastic all-nite dive bar in an aluminum-sided trailer parked permanently in downtown Ann Arbor, and they make a great hash:
Voila: the Fleetwood!
And there’s also a pretty fantastic 50s-oldies group called The Fleetwoods, whose tragic songs of life apparently include “Mr. Blue” (this was before rock’n'roll, ladies & gentlemen! Excuse them!) and this fine gem of my earnest listening career:
No joke — this is one of my favorite songs of all times! Thanks to my pal from Big Sur, Mike, who put this on his impeccable old-time playlist!
Well — apparently — according to Wikipedia — it is a town. A British town! And one that garnered mention by Ptolemy, if that makes any difference to you! (I’d love to get mentioned by Ptolemy!) The “cultural references” section of Fleetwood’s entry, however, does little to de-mystify why it has done so much to merit giving its name to several significant American institutions over the last half-century. Hmph.
So, I’ll exploit the twilight days of my academic privilege, and ask the Oxford English Dictionary. Unfortunately, “fleetwood” is not a recognized word. “Fleet,” “fleeting,” and “fleg” (“a fright, scare”) are all recognized words; but I guess we’ll have to chalk “Fleetwood” up to one of those Authentic American Inventions that Stuck like, uh — I actually can’t think of any other examples right now. But I do want to say something about the arches in Utah:
Yeah, Fleetwood …
It’s alot like that. (Don’t you wish it was summer? Don’t you just wanna go on a roadtrip?)
Anyway: Fleetwood Mac. Ex-boyfriend’s dog, “heroine pretty,” something about “Avalanche” and the predecessor to power balladry — what were these folks really all about? How, when, and why, did the fierce wild tundra of America give birth to Stevie Nicks and her unnamed, presumably guitar-slogging companions?
This is the first song that came up for “Fleetwood Mac,” so here you go:
First of all: whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. I’ve heard this song! Everybody’s heard this song! And I had no idea this was Fleetwood Mac! But, since it’s only the minor goal of the blog (think major and minor arcana, yin and yang, people) to declare my rampant musical ignorance, or better yet, to remediate it in public, I’ll cut to the real goods.
Wow — I’ve learned so much already. Turns out that:
1. “Fleetwood Mac” comes from the names of two guys who used to be in the band, but really were never in the band.
2. Rumours is an album we need to check out.
3. Stevie Nicks is not necessarily synonymous with Fleetwood Mac — at least not with early Fleetwood Mac.
(Personal autonomy went extinct in 1985.)
We’re deep, ladies & gentlemen, into the 70s. Make sure to (t)read with caution; and put yr tiger masks on!
(Also: you know what I love? This Old House magazine! They have the best kitchens!)
oh, and –
4. They’re British ?!?!?!?
*
So: Fleetwood Mac. (This post is just starting & stopping! Sorta like Early Fleetwood Mac! Take that, mimesis!) So: they started out as a late-1960s British Blues band (who didn’t?) sorta switching personnel around with Eric Clapton and all that (who doesn’t, these days?), and they released a handful of so-or-so-la acclaimed-ish albums with titles like Fleetwood Mac (1968), Mr. Wonderful (1968), English Rose, and, impressively, The Pious Bird of Good Omen (more or less American remixes of the first two). Then (like everybody else) they came to America, and recorded some stuff on Chess records, before signing to Reprise (just like Gram!) and proceeding to produce Then Play On (1969), which signaled the end of their all-blues-sets and a movement towards, hold yr breath and stare, rock’n'roll.
Then came the 70s. Several members of the band either developed mental illness, joined cults, were fired, or got hired because of convenient marriage to a drummer. They continued to put out albums, which apparently got them a pretty fantastic following, despite some of the weird things that went on, including the emergence of a “fake Fleetwood Mac” band.
And then, it was 1975! Lindsay Buckingham and Stevie Nicks joined the band! They released Fleetwood Mac (again?!?) and everybody loved them! Everybody got divorced and fell out of love! Then came Rumours! It was 1977! They also put out an apparently very weird New Wave album called Tusk! The year is now 1979! Oh goodness we’d better stop before we hit the 1980s!
Well: thank you for letting me read Wikipedia to you. It was truly a blast. But, I suppose we’ll have to do what I’ve never done before: actually listen to Fleetwood Mac.
(By the way: you should read the lineup timeline on Wikipedia. It’s really funny.)
From Fleetwood Mac, 1975:
(You know, this really is all starting to sound familiar. I think I’ve absorbed 70s music like weird oxygen, without ever thinking about it. I think I might … like it? But still, kind citizens, I’m ((still)) telling you — I wish it was the 1950s!)
((These lyrics are so wild. What’s she saying?
Have you ever seen a woman
taken by the wind ?
Crazy! ))
Here another one:
Hmm:
(Does it ever pick up? Maybe things don’t ever pick up in the 70s. I’m starting to understand where some of the more bizarre — but loveable — Gram & Emmylou duets come from:
Who am I kidding, I LOVE THIS SONG !!!)
Anyway: Fleetwood Mac. (I’m honestly having trouble going back to listening to Fleetwood Mac after listening to Gram & Emmylou; in fact, I’m still listening to Gram & Emmylou. Maybe I’ll try to write about Fleetwood Mac anyway.)
Here’s another one! Nice Calypso (i.e. 1970s) feel!:
I kinda like this one. It’s what they call — understated.
(Although I have to admit the line
Yoooouuu — made me a woman tonight
– is really creepy!)
Oh, I like this one! It really picks up! These 70s bands are diverse. Just look at Linda — they seem to be really interested in trying on different stylistic influences and becoming a different outfit with every song. This song, in fact, reminds me of some of my favorite Dillards tunes (“One A.M.,” in fact — is that uncanny? I know this song’s been posted before, so forgive my duplicity, but, honestly — whoa, uncanny?!?):
- annnnnddd -
(Holy moly — I’m taking this one from Jeff, he’s got a clean mouf! — I REALLY LIKE THE DILLARDS!)
And — some rockers from Rumours:
I like this one! I genuinely like this one.
Oh! I’ve definitely heard this one! And I love it!:
(Or maybe it just sounds like a Cat Stevens song?)
((Nope! I’ve heard it!))
(((I’m glad I came all the way out here to explore Rumours. I was on the fence about Fleetwood Mac, and thinkin’ about giving it the quits; but I think all this fierce YouTube-surfing determination has really paid off.)))
She kinda sounds like Sandy Denny:
This one sounds fun!:
Oh, damn! That is fun. I really like this song. Or, in particular, I love the crazy-saturated-yet-distanced sound of their harmonies. And, whoa, did I catch that right?
Take a listen to your spirit
It’s crying out loud
[clap clap clap clap clap]
OK. Best Fleetwood Mac song ever. (I love any song that includes the phrase: “walkin’ on down the line.”) Hands down.
(Update: I’ve now listened to this song a total of five times. Bets in that I’ll get it up to at least twenty before the clock strikes noon. It’s that good.)
*
We might as well stop here. Save some for tomorrow — if there is a tomorrow. I don’t think I’ve ever found a band I feel as ambivalent about as Fleetwood Mac. Honestly, I love a few of these tunes. And a whole bunch of other ones, I could just leave behind. I guess I’m out of my comfortable range of country-folksy. There’s no Appalachia in these tunes. In fact, I’m not sure we’re even in the territory of Americana anymore. I mean, they’re not American. But, uh, who is? They became American.
(Why is this blog always about nascent issues of musical nationalism, and the American folk claim to homeless authenticity? Damn!)
This blog has really turned into a foray of really well-known acts of the post-rockabilly era that I’ve somehow missed. Jeff, where are you! Save us with your dark tales of banjo-slayers and crooning Delta know-how! Save us with your entry on Buck Owens in space!
To all yr final frontiers,
jessi
xoxo
PS — uh, is anyone else kinda thinking that Hedwig’s partner in probably my favorite movie of all time is, uh, based on what I’m assuming is Christine McVie (see the picture, above)? Case in point:
Uh, yeah. QED, baby.
PPS — Thanks, Fleetwood Mac! Through your opening the floodgates to discussions of 1970s music and culture, I just learned that one of my parents’ first dates was to a Pink Floyd laser lights show. Swee-t!
