Tuesday, October 15, 2024

PRAISE POEM FOR THE IMPROVISATIONAL COLLECTIVE FANOPLANE (OF WHICH I AM A MEMBER.)

 
L to R: Brie Anderson, Patrick Whitehead, Bob Boilen, Yours Truly,
Ted Zook, Jerry Busher, and Doug 
Kallmeyer. Photo by Mike Zito.   

On October 11, 2024 the improvisational band known as Fanoplane found itself chilling in the green room at the Black Cat, a storied music venue in Washington, D.C. The mini-fridge in said enclave bore the stickers of the many bands who had waited there on other nights in anticipation of their sets. We helped ourselves to a tidy assortment of red grapes and green apples. We quipped that we had made “the big time.” It felt quite nice to be there.

Perhaps owing to our unconventional sound, the venue had chosen us to open for Xiu Xiu, an experimental rock group with a national following. The foundation of “our unconventional sound” revolves around two key details: we have no repertoire and we frequently feature a large mixture of instruments. We rehearse, but we have no songs. Fanoplane invents new pieces every time it takes the stage. Co-led by Ted Zook and Bob Boilen, the personnel may vary from show to show. It may present with two members, or, as with the Black Cat appearance, it may perform as a septet, or still other combinations.

In addition to Ted (electric cello) and Bob (electronics), the musicians on October 11th included Brie Anderson (guitar), Patrick Whitehead (trumpet), Jerry Busher (drums), and Doug Kallmeyer (bass). For my part, I did (I always do) words. My affiliation with these extraordinary musicians dates back several years to previous incarnations of related improv bands, including Lost Civilizations and Heterodyne. While these groups have performed at several other iconic venues—including Baltimore’s An Die Musik and DC’s Velvet Lounge—the Black Cat would have to be the “biggest” space with the largest audience: as many as 300 people watched us take the stage. 

This 360-degree video produced by Bob Boilen (an excerpt from the show) can be rotated
by dragging your mouse or finger. I personally get a little crazy between 10:30 and 10:45.

Those in the audience impressed me. They were young and open-minded; individuality abounded. They had not paid to see us, no, they had come for Xiu Xiu, and yet, they pressed up to the stage and wanted to groove, they wanted us to groove, they wanted the band to discover them amid the groove and stay close, just like that, interlinked. The audience spurred us forward. They gave the warmup act their full attention and allowed themselves to be surprised by our mayhem.

Despite my frequent appearances with Fanoplane and its ancestor bands, I can’t predict exactly know how a song will begin. Perhaps our beloved co-leader Ted Zook will saw across his basscello, but the budding moments may spring out of the entire collective sort of testing out their instruments. We all make eye contact, nod our heads, and then we realize that the new piece has commenced. None of the musicians seeks to dominate the proceedings. Fanoplane bandmates know when to drop down a bit, and conversely, when to step into a “lull.” Everybody plays—and everybody listens. It is a cooperative, so we cooperate. 

Oi.

Similarly, my role as “words” may be to suggest a new idea or a thumping new beat but just as often I will adapt my delivery (and my choice of material) to the established cadence and/or tone. As much as I enjoy my contributions the group, I equally cherish listening to the other bandmembers. Thus, we “shape” a performance.

On October 11th, I’d say that Fanoplane discovered a few new things, none more heartening than our connection with a vibrant young audience. We also found a foothold within a certain system of vivid overlaps and speculative forays, or to put it another way, our seven selves meshed musically, transformed into separate shapes altogether, before untethering entirely from our own expectations. As if we were clouds, then people, then rain.


Sunday, July 14, 2024

BULLFROG HOP.



Behold “Bullfrog Hop.” A fellow named Big Bob Dougherty recorded the song in Kansas City when the calendars read 19 and 62 for 12 whole months. More than 50 years later, bullfrogs are still hopping, we are still dancing, and Big Bob is perpetually playing that bass saxophone. Big Bob knew a thing or two about bullfrogs. For starters: what they say, aloud, which he describes through that big horn. He also knows that they (said bullfrogs) like to jump, shake, dance, and hop. This song should be featured on a NatGeo bullfrog doc!

Our suggestions for listening: grab your sweetie pie and crouch down low. When it makes sense, and / or when practical, well, hop around, hop around, hop up hop up and get down. You may find yourself quite amused by the life of a bullfrog. You may find yourself emulating bullfrogs in other ways. We take no position on this. If you feel like inhabiting The Ways of the Bullfrog, then by all means, go forward as you see fit. However, beware of the potential outcomes: 




Uh, egads! While this concept is not new to the animal kingdom (I for one, have witnessed a torrid summer romance among a fox and a corgi) still, the question begs to be asked: who, pray tell, is next? A turtle? A heron? Shall the bullfrog be—uh, egads!—amorously mounting one of us? Where does it end, this desire for accoupling? I decided to confront a bullfrog with this query. 


I went down to the riverside. There, I found this rather stoic bullfrog basking in her glory. She refused to comment on my salty, salty inquiry, but I could tell that, as an amphibian, she could type with both hands. Clearly, she was thinking in the register of the bass saxophone. And in French to boot: <<Mon ami, le crapaud Buber>> she thought <<attend Buber Eats.>> In all seriousness though, we here at Blood And Gutstein admire a hopper or jumper of another kind.

 

As many of you know, we do not “pshaw” the feats (or the feets) of athletes, and at that, we greatly admire the record-breaking effort of Ukrainian high jumper Yaroslava Mahuchikh. Nearly one week ago, she vanquished a 37-year-old world record by completing a high jump at 2.10 meters, or nearly 6 feet 10 inches. (You can watch the first 45 seconds of the video for the record-breaking hop.) For this, we think that Yaroslava is the most compelling athlete in the world right now. Perhaps she will break her own record at the Paris Olympics. We bet that, if she listened to Big Bob Dougherty, she might find an extra 0.1 meters in lift!


discographical information for “Bullfrog Hop”
Big Bob Dougherty. “Bullfrog Hop” A-side b/w “Twistin Through the Rye” B-side. Kay D-12399. Kansas City (1962). Personnel: Big Bob Dougherty (Robert Isaac Dougherty) bass saxophone; other musicians unknown. [Note: the record reads “Featuring Bass Sax” and while it is almost certain that Big Bob Dougherty is playing the bass sax, we cannot say for sure.] Compositional credit: Dougherty. 


Saturday, April 20, 2024

ON THE TRAIL OF “IN THE PINES” (WHERE THE SUN NEVER SHINES.)


Intro

Some people will recall Nirvana’s mesmerizing performance of “In the Pines” at MTV Unplugged back in 1993. The band, led by Kurt Cobain, labeled its rendition “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?” which represents a common alternate title of the traditional folk tune. Whoa. Wait a minute. Nirvana? Doing a folk song? Yes, and before the band launched into the song, Cobain referenced the group’s inspiration for it: the country blues musician Lead Belly. I imagine that many people in the MTV Unplugged audience had not heard of “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?” and did not know much about Lead Belly either. When I first encountered the name “Lead Belly” I imagined someone plugged full of bullets, in the midriff. This stage name has a compelling outlaw tinge even as it derives from the man’s actual last name, Ledbetter. Huddie Ledbetter. There, in the air, wafted the royal name Lead Belly as Nirvana built the song, bit by bit, towards the (inevitable) howling vocals.

Most folk songs live happily among the clatter of everyday life, curated by the folk themselves, yet every so often a tune like “In the Pines” will enjoy a large audience moment with performers like Nirvana, bolstered, in this case, by a platinum-selling album that followed Cobain’s death. Tens of millions have found themselves drawn to this performance, and invariably, inquiring minds will want to know where did “In the Pines” come from, what does it represent, and where does it stand today, more than 30 years after Nirvana performed it and roughly 80 years after Lead Belly recorded his momentous rendition. The song may date to the final years of the nineteenth century, give or take, with ultimate roots perhaps in English folksong and English poetry.

The cover page of Judith McCulloh’s 
 detailed and enlightening dissertation


A “Marriage of Songs” (as Opposed to a “Family of Songs”)

Devoted readers know that I maintain more than a passing relationship to the “Liza Jane” family of folk songs. These bright songs originated in the antebellum South among enslaved people and eventually enjoyed large audience moments such as Harry Belafonte’s energetic (and controversial) 1960 performance of “Little Liza Jane” on CBS television in front of thirty or forty million households. As I describe in my 2023 book Poor Gal, the “Liza Jane” family contains several sturdy branches that feature a range of lyrics and melodies but these “family members” share several common threads—none greater than the sassy, obstinate “everywoman” of Liza Jane herself. She never quite says “yes” despite the suitor’s repeated, sometimes frustrated, sometimes cynical efforts at winning her favor. While “Liza Jane” and “In the Pines” exhibit considerable differences, they do possess enough similarities as traditional folk songs such that some comparison will be helpful in exploring their beginnings, travels, and enduring significance.

Anyone studying the evolution of “In the Pines” would have to begin with the excellent work of Judith McCulloh, a decorated folklorist who eventually became Executive Editor of the University of Illinois Press. McCulloh wrote her (unpublished) PhD dissertation on “In the Pines,” completing it in 1970. She cites similarities in tune that enabled a late nineteenth century merger between a formative version of “In the Pines” and a second song commonly known as “The Longest Train.” The combined song would often contain three basic ingredients: (1) a couplet to the effect of “In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines / And I shivered the whole night through”; (2) a couplet to the effect of “The longest train I ever saw / Went down the Georgia Line”; and (3) one or more verses describing the aftermath of a horrific accident in which a character is decapitated. Notably, these verses can have their own variations and there exist many more possible (but secondary) lyrics. Most musicians would title their renditions “In the Pines” but others might call the song “Black Girl” and still others “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?” Lead Belly employed both latter titles; he recorded the song more than once.


A precursor song (recorded by Barbara   
Dane) mentions a train 100 coaches long

Before They Merged, How Did “The Longest Train” and “In the Pines” Originate?

Though the “Liza Jane” tunes formed as a group of one-verse songs among enslaved people, they may have been influenced by popular songs and poetry of the era. The same may be true with “In the Pines” and “The Longest Train.” To begin, “The Longest Train” may share lyrics and tonic properties with a suite of other railroad songs including “Nine Hundred Miles” (above) and “Reuben.” Most notably, the decapitation couplets originate among “The Longest Train” songs but these same tunes often simultaneously refer to “Joe Brown’s coal mine” as the site of an impossibly long train. The person in question, Joseph Emerson Brown, served as Georgia’s governor during the Confederacy and after the war owned a coal mine (or perhaps several mines) that exploited the labor of convicts. (Joe Brown may merit a variety of labels, the least of which would be “S.O.B.”) Musicologist Alan Lomax expresses confidence that “The Longest Train” spread into the mountains from African American traditions.

Meanwhile, the tune of “In the Pines” as well as certain lyrics may resemble the ballad “George Collins,” an American interpretation of the English ballads “Lady Alice” and “Clerk Colvill.” Many renditions of “George Collins” describe a dove flying from “pine to pine” (cooing about its lost love) and we might also recall some lines from Tennyson’s early nineteenth century poem “Oenone” concerning a “swimming vapor” that “creeps from pine to pine.” These precursor lyrics project sadness and eeriness that would seem to inform the nascent version of “In the Pines.” Early performances involve the speaker interrogating a love interest or a close relative: “My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me / Tell me where did you sleep last night.” The typical response involves a flight (“in the pines”) to a place of dark isolation (“where the sun never shines”) and where the girl would experience bodily discomfort (“shiver the whole night through.”) There are numerous potential contexts here—betrayal, shame, fear, and punishment—but the precise connections never truly emerge. McCulloh names the state of Georgia as the likely birthplace for one or both songs but also allows nearby states as potential breeding grounds. She additionally speculates on the 1870s as the likely time of inception but neither song turns up in musicological studies, newspaper articles, and other sources during that period and therefore the songs may have formed ten, twenty, or thirty years later.

The regal Lead Belly

The Dominant Twentieth-Century Performances and What They Represent

“Liza Jane” songs frequently traded hands between Black and white musicians and, in the process, became popular in virtually every genre of American music. These songs invited improvisation and virtually every musician obliged by attaching choice “snotches of folk material” (a.k.a. verses that floated from song to song) as well as original lyrics and novel arrangements to the catchy refrains. “Little Liza Jane” for instance rarely presents with a “point A to point B” narrative arc.

Both “In the Pines” and “The Longest Train” demonstrate similar “snotchy” properties, almost to the extent that the songs resist a cohesive story. This may be especially true after the songs merged to form what we might call the “classic contemporary version” of “In the Pines.” While many important musicians recorded “In the Pines”—including an influential bluegrass rendition by Bill Monroe—the two dominant twentieth century performances would have to be those by Lead Belly and Nirvana. As noted, Lead Belly cut a few different records of “In the Pines.” Collectively, these versions inspired generations of folk musicians to come, but in particular, the 1944 recording “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?” on the Musicraft label stirred Nirvana at the height of their popularity and clearly informed their 1993 rendition on MTV Unplugged


  “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?”
  Lead Belly, 1944

   My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me
   Tell me where did you sleep last night?

   (Come on, tell me baby.)

   In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine
   I will shiver the whole night through.

   My girl, my girl, where will you go?
   I’m going where the cold wind blow.

   (Where’s that at baby?)

   In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine
   I will shiver the whole night through.

   My girl, my girl, don’t you lie to me
   Tell me where did you sleep last night?

   (Come on and tell me something ‘bout it.)

   In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine
   I will shiver the whole night through.

   (Shiver for me now.)

   (Uh huh.)

   (What happen down there?)

   My husband was a hard-working man
   Killed a mile and a half from here.

   (What happened to him?)

   His head was found in a driver wheel
   And his body haven’t never been found.

   My girl, my girl, don’t you lie to me
   Tell me where did you sleep last night?

   (Come on and tell me something ‘bout it.)

   In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine
   I will shiver the whole night through.

The Nirvana lyrics, though rendered somewhat differently, do not stray far from Lead Belly’s example. Both versions omit any trace of “the longest train” language but continue the “interrogation” language, the decapitation accident, and, of course, the description of the pines: a solitary, shivery, dark destination for the girl addressed by the singer. We ought not to debate which version may be better or more powerful. Lead Belly recorded the song without a band in an era before television; Nirvana added two musicians to their trio (including a cellist) and appeared in front of a live studio audience; each of the two songs dominates in its own way.

Critics sometimes breathe scenarios into the lyrics that I find difficult to support. The “sordid pines,” according to one critic writing in The New York Times, “serve as a metaphor for everything from sex to loneliness and death.” I cannot grasp how the pines (trees, cold air, cold wind, cones, needles) serve as a metaphor for sordid sex. As for loneliness and death, both the Nirvana and Lead Belly performances advance rather obvious (i.e., non-metaphorical) content regarding both. Ultimately, the singers address a young woman, demanding to know where she slept the night before and imploring her not to lie. Of course, the word “sleep” could conjure a sexual situation but it could also represent a short, meaningful disappearance.

In both songs, we eventually come to understand that the girl’s husband (her husband) had been killed, had not merely been killed—but decapitated. Were she being challenged about an affair by a boyfriend or a parent, the song would not seem to be about “sordid sex” as much as abject fetishist cruelty, and in fact, might support a brief disappearance as opposed to sordid intimacies. Either way, if the girl is a liar, then how do we know that she fled to “the pines” at all? And if she is telling the truth, then all she says is that she shivered the whole night through (seemingly alone). The text does not mention or imply a tryst. In short, we have Tennyson’s “swimming vapor” creeping from tree to tree. 

The imagery of “In the Pines” may refer to a   
vanishing (or imaginary) American melancholy


Neither Lead Belly nor Nirvana invented “In the Pines.” Both inherited a song that had been condensed, considerably, from more formative material. While both took a folk song and added their unique performative gifts to their performances, we might be brave enough to admit that the songs do not offer much conventional “meaning” at all. (“Meaning” is highly overrated anyway.) The genius of the “Liza Jane” songs centers around the bright engines of their refrains. A musician can add virtually any lyrics to them without sacrificing their essential nature. Folk music tends to operate in “composite” forms that blend lyrics, characters, and variations. By now, a song like “In the Pines” especially resembles a piece built from “snotches” of folk material since its predecessor songs likely came together in precisely such a fashion. A clear, discernible narrative will likely never apply.

Lead Belly created a powerful, influential version of a folk song that he may have learned from (depending upon who you believe) hearing an early recording, serving as chauffeur for John Lomax when Lomax recorded prisoners at Bellwood Prison Camp, trading material with folk musicians of his era including Woody Guthrie, or some combination of these factors. Nirvana obviously intended their performance as a tribute to Lead Belly. Some of the present-day “meaning” therefore would include a group of white musicians trying to inhabit the performance of an African American musician who, himself, likely inhabited both Black and white traditions dating back a few decades into Appalachian railroading and/or coal mining areas—if not the earlier balladry of England. The song presents with menacing properties—the confrontation, the isolated forest, the deadly accident—but in the end, “In the Pines” might succeed (as does “Liza Jane”) because people want to sing the refrain. Yes, the song may appeal to our infatuation with the macabre, or even some inarticulable sense of a vanishing (or imaginary) American melancholy, one that is even more difficult to access in an era of shock journalism, divisive politics, and indifference to mass-casualty events.

    “In the Pines” lives on, quite            
forcefully, in the wake of Nirvana

Coda

The same New York Times reporter suggests that Cobain’s performance “is so definitive that the stray ends of [the song’s] history come together” and that “there is really no need for anyone to ever sing it again.” Tell that to the musicians in St.Lô, whose thumping hip hop rendition from 2012 may rankle “purists” but belongs in the same conversation with Lead Belly and Nirvana. Singer Hanifah Walidah also credits Lead Belly at the very beginning and then channels the song’s content more viscerally, in my opinion, than does Cobain. Her performance (watch the entire video) reminds me, in its own way, of how Nina Simone performed “Little Liza Jane”—at times exhibiting almost a trancelike connection to the Liza Jane character. “In the Pines” (like “Liza Jane”) will continue to evolve, with new genres, styles, and innovations building the song’s legacy: almost like a massive unfinished quilt work. Clearly, there is good reason for others to sing “In the Pines.”

There is also good reason to reinvestigate the history of “In the Pines.” Digitization and other sources will likely enable an updating of Judith McCulloh’s meticulous work with respect to the dates and geographical locales of incipient versions as well as rounding out information on a scoundrel like Joe Brown or a particularly relevant (I hate to say it but) “railroad decapitation.” Like “Liza Jane” I imagine that “In the Pines” will resist “ultimate statements of literal meaning” especially since the decapitation incident (from “The Longest Train”) has been installed—either preposterously or stupendously—among the “interrogation verses” (from “In the Pines”) when the two had nothing originally to do with one another. Yet folk music operates in this way, with “bits of folk material” drifting from version to version. In the end, “In the Pines” is highly relevant today despite or perhaps due to the accidental juxtapositions that make for an eerie listen. Perhaps we should not demand anything more than to acknowledge the industrial brawn that a long train may symbolize, or the urge to flee in the wake of a horrific loss, or the fluencies of a lonely refuge that attract our individuality despite the twin forces of darkness and accusation.  

The song given a treatment by   
a large jazz combo with vocals 

Primary Sources of Information

Judith McCulloh, unpublished dissertation: “In the Pines”: The Melodic-Textual Identity of an American Lyric Folksong Cluster. Indiana University, 1970.

[My own book, Poor Gal: The Cultural History of Little Liza Jane. University Press of Mississippi, November 2023.]

Alan Lomax. The Folk Songs of North America. Doubleday. New York, 1960.

Francis James Child. The English and Scottish Popular Ballads. [In particular “Clerk Colvill” (Child 42) and “Lady Alice” (Child 85).]

Bertrand Harris Bronson. The Traditional Tunes of the Child Ballads. Princeton University Press, 1962.

Lord Alfred Tennyson. “Oenone.” 1829.

Eric Weisbard. “Pop Music: A Simple Song That Lives Beyond Time.” New York Times, November 13, 1994.

Norm Cohen. Long Steel Rail: The Railroad in American Folksong. University of Illinois Press, 1981.

Nicholas Fournier, Todd Harvey, Bertram Lyons, and Nathan Salsburg. Lomax Family Audio Recordings, 1908–1991: A Chronological Guide to Field Trips and Recordings. Library of Congress, 2016.

—A variety of other sources include Wikipedia, Georgia Encyclopedia, discography sites (45cat, Discogs), and a variety of recordings on YouTube, Spotify, and elsewhere. 


Discography of Recordings and Performances

“Where Did You Sleep Last Night.” Nirvana: Kurt Cobain (vocals, acoustic guitar), Krist Novoselic (acoustic guitar); and Dave Grohl (drums); with Lori Goldston (cello) and Pat Smear (acoustic guitar). MTV Unplugged (New York, 1993). Also released as part of an album and as a single.

“Nine Hundred Miles.” Barbara Dane (vocals, guitar). When I Was A Young Girl, Side 1, track 3. Horizon Records SWP-1602. (Los Angeles, 1962). 

“Where Did You Sleep Last Night?” Lead Belly (vocals, guitar). A-side b/w “In New Orleans” B-side. Musicraft 312. (New York, 1944.) Compositional credit given to Huddie Ledbetter; the song is a traditional folk tune.

“In the Pines.” St.Lô: Hanifah Walidah (vocals); iOta (beatmaker); Ton’s (synthesizer? Keyboards?); and DocMau (artistic director). TransMusicales festival (France, 2012). Based upon one of Lead Belly’s recordings.

“Black Girl.” Likely personnel: Clifford Jordan (tenor saxophone); Sandra Douglas (vocals); Julian Priester (trombone); Roy Burrowes (trumpet); Chuck Wayne (banjo); Cedar Walton (piano); Richard Davis (bass); and Albert Heath (drums). These Are My Roots: Clifford Jordan Plays Leadbelly, Side 2, track 3. Atlantic Records 1444. (New York, 1965). Compositional credit is given to Huddie Ledbetter (Lead Belly).


Saturday, February 24, 2024

FIVE OF THE HARDEST SHAKERS WE KNOW: PREPARE TO BE THROTTLED (MUSICALLY).

Curtis Knight (center) with most of The    
Squires, including Jimi Hendrix (far left). 

Sometimes we require a good solid round of musical ravaging, do we not? As in, these five instrumentals from the Shakers Era will ravage you, Dear Reader. By “Shakers Era” we mean the largely underappreciated early rock ‘n’ roll and R&B that prevailed, roughly speaking, from the appearance of Elvis to the British Invasion. (Give or take: 1952 to 1954 to 1964 to 1966.) In those 10 to 12 to 14 years can be found some of the rowdiest strains ever produced in American music, much of it driven by shrieking saxophone or crunching guitar, or both. Most of the Shakers musicians would never achieve stardom; a handful who “cut their teeth” in this era would “make it big” but often enough “making it big” equated to soggy crooning as compared to the teeth-rattling properties of these formidable records.

Collectively, these five groups played surf, R&B, rockabilly, and hard rock from the earliest recording (1958) to the latest (1966). Yes, you will recognize some of the names. You may have a hard time reconciling a shaker such as “Buzz Saw” with the mushier output-to-come by its musicians: among them Glen Campbell and Seals and Crofts. Upon hearing “Hornet’s Nest,” you may remark that you had no idea there was a Jimi Hendrix before the Jimi Hendrix Experience shocked the world, but there was, and he played in a wild group known as Curtis Knight & The Squires. From the Grammy-winning Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame inductee Duane Eddy to the relatively unknown proto-punk group The Fender IV to the double trumpets of Frank Motley right here in Washington, D.C., all these records will fulfill the prophecy: namely, you will be shaken, throttled, ravaged, ravished, and picked apart until your bare bones rattle together simply while you wear a huge smile on your face.

Before you queue-up the music, we suggest that you situate yourself in a semi-dark enclave with appropriate libations at your fingertips. We doubly suggest that you invite your Sweetie Pie to join you. You may jump up, you may get down, you may be scared into each other’s arms. It is always more fun to be ravaged in the presence of a loved one, is it not?


intro: Behold the rock ‘n’ roll shaker “Peter Gunn” released by Duane Eddy in 1958 or 1959.

26-word song review
: Twangy guitar will surely rescue us (right?) but no, it’s a ruse, the guitar crunches us instead, while saxophone drills gaping holes in the earth’s mantle.

how to dress for this song
: In layers, that can be shed, as you flee.

after hearing this song you resolve to
. . . . . build a funeral pyre for all the “with strings” albums that you own.

sub genre(s)
: Rockabilly. Hard rock. Tenor excess.

notes
. Henry Mancini wrote the original “Peter Gunn” and recorded it with legendary shaker musician Plas Johnson on tenor sax. The Mancini version, of course, provided theme music for the television show of the same name but the Duane Eddy rendition goes well beyond Mancini, well beyond raunchy, to reach the upper levels of the registry known to humankind. Eddy’s 1986 remake of the song won him a Grammy, which we will not hold against him.

discography
: Duane Eddy. “Peter Gunn” A-side b/w “Yep!” B-side. London Records, London American Recordings HLW 8879. United Kingdom, 1958 or 1959. (Also released on the Jamie label in the USA, in 1959 and1960, under the heading of Duane Eddy “His Twangy Guitar” and The Rebels). Likely personnel may have included all or some of the following: Duane Eddy (guitar); Steve Douglas (saxophone); Corkey Casey (rhythm guitar); Buddy Wheeler (electric bass); Jimmy Simmons (upright bass); Al Casey (piano); and Mike Bermani (drums). Compositional credit: Henry Mancini. Sources of information: Discogs; 45cat; Wikipedia pages for Duane Eddy and “Peter Gunn”; Only Solitaire Herald; Jazz Messengers.


intro: Behold the R&B shaker “Space Age” released by Frank Motley in 1959.

26-word song review
: 3 minutes of sheer rocket fuel. 2 trumpets shrieking in the same cat’s mouth. 1 drummer thumping away in the wake of his own echoes. Blastoff.

how to dress for this song
: In a helmet!

after hearing this song you resolve to
. . . . . jettison your ballast.

sub genre(s)
: R&B. Washington, D.C. R&B. Extraterrestrial exotica.

notes
: Part of the vibrant R&B scene in Washington, D.C., Frank Motley became one of the few American musicians adept at playing more than one horn simultaneously, alongside Rahsaan Roland Kirk and George Braith. Notably, Motley and his band backed transgender singer Jackie Shane in the Toronto-area hit “Any Other Way” from 1963, a slower piece that we highly recommend.

discography
: Frank “Dual Trumpet” Motley and His Crew. “Space Age” A-side b/w “Everybody Wants a Flattop” B-side. DC 45-0415. Washington, D.C., 1959. Likely personnel: Frank Motley (dual trumpets); Curley Bridges or Jimmy Crawford (keyboards); and Thomas ‘TNT’ Tribble (drums); remaining musicians unknown. Compositional credit: Frank Motley and Lillian Claiborne. Sources of information: Discogs; 45cat; Wikipedia.


intro: Behold the rock ‘n’ roll shaker “Buzz Saw” released by The Gee Cees in 1961.

26-word song review
: As the needle cuts through the disc, as the disc cuts through the turntable, so do the teeth of the music cut through us unrepentant scoundrels.

how to dress for this song
: With safety goggles.

after hearing this song you resolve to
. . . . . cut through brick with a butter knife.

sub genre(s)
: Rockabilly. Hard rock. Powertool grind.

notes
: Apparently, Glen Campbell, Jim Seals, and Dash Crofts had been bandmates in the widely beloved shaker group The Champs, before leaving that group to cut this record. “Buzz Saw” would hardly predict the slower-paced material that would follow from Campbell and, separately, the duo Seals and Crofts. We wish this brief intersection had continued.

discography
: The Gee Cees. “Buzz Saw” A-side b/w “Annie Had a Party” B-side. Crest 45-1088. Hollywood, California, 1961. [Also released by the same label as “Buzz Saw Twist.”] Likely personnel: Glen Campbell (guitar); Jerry Kolbrak also known as Jerry Cole (guitar); Jim Seals (Saxophone); and Dash Crofts (drums); other musicians may have been drawn from another group, The Champs, but are unknown. Compositional credit: Glen Campbell. Sources of information: Discogs; 45cat; Wikipedia pages for Glen Campbell and Jerry Cole.


intro: Behold the rock ‘n’ roll shaker “Mar Gaya” released by The Fender IV in 1964.

26-word song review
: We consider this a punk record ahead of its time, we consider this a great punk record, for the sheer locomotion and irreverence of the musicians.

how to dress for this song
: With a fedora, pince-nez, smoking jacket, and pocket watch.

after hearing this song you resolve to
. . . . . weigh the benefits of the Atkins diet versus the Keto diet.

sub genre(s)
: Surf. Proto punk. Beach loco.

notes
: According to “Google Translate” the phrase “mar gaya” means “died” or “petered (out)” in Hindi; “strong sea” in Haitian Creole, and “mar gaya” in Esperanto.

discography
: The Fender IV. “Mar Gaya” A-side b/w “You Better Tell Me Now” B-side. Imperial 66061. Los Angeles, California, 1964. Likely personnel: Randy Holden (guitar); Joe Kooken (guitar); Mike Port (bass); and Bruce Miller (drums). Compositional credit: Randy Holden. Sources of information: Discogs; 45cat; Wikipedia


intro: Behold the R&B shaker “Hornet’s Nest” released by Curtis Knight and The Squires in 1966.

26-word song review
: Okay, yes, the angry hornets, because their nest was poked, but who set them off, okay, yes, it was Jimi Hendrix, that would explain a lot.

how to dress for this song
: In a beekeeper’s suit.

after hearing this song you resolve to
. . . . . swarm!

sub genre(s)
: R&B. Hard rock. Apian blues.

notes
: There are lots of disputes involving the Knight / Hendrix recordings that we choose not to fathom.

discography
: Curtis Knight & The Squires. “Hornet’s Nest” A-side b/w “Knock Yourself Out” B-side. RSVP 1124. New York, 1966. Likely personnel: Curtis Knight (guitar); Jimi Hendrix (guitar); Marion Booker Jr. (drums); Ace Hall or Napoleon Anderson (bass); and Nate Edmonds (organ). Compositional credit: Jimi Hendrix and Jerry Simon. Sources of information: Discogs; 45cat; Wikipedia; Early Hendrix.

Steve Douglas, saxophonist on “Peter Gunn”


Frank Motley with two trumpets and His Crew. 


that’s all folks!


Sunday, December 31, 2023

MANIFESTO & SUPERMANIFESTO 2024


 Manifesto & Supermanifesto 2024 begins with the most unexpected development of my career. On November 27, University Press of Mississippi released my nonfiction book Poor Gal: The Cultural History of Little Liza Jane. This capped an intensive six-year research process into the most important folk song in American history. Aside from all the stunning historical information I absorbed as well as learning so many “Liza Jane” songs that now regularly dance inside my head, I developed quite a bit as a writer. It was important to step out of my “creative writing voice” and into a realm that was far more important than “me.” For once, I did not find myself trying to write poetry or fiction by depending upon “my own legend.” Instead, I functioned as a conduit for “Liza Jane” to tell its estimable story, one that reminds us of our shared humanity.


I could not have written Poor Gal without significant mentorship by a bloke named David Evans. A two-time Grammy winner, musician, professor emeritus, author, and blues ambassador, David provided patient, old-school guidance from the darkest days of the pandemic all the way to the book’s production. I had read his legendary book Big Road Blues when I lived in Arcata, but I should like to note the appearance of Going Up the Country, a 2023 work David co-wrote with Marina Bokelman. Going Up the Country blends an adventure narrative with detailed notes about making field recordings and, at its heart, relays an edgy investigation into American folk and blues music.



I enter 2024 with an ambitious creative agenda. I am hoping to step back to the microphone once again as a lyricist-vocalist with a band. Together with my colleague Emily Cohen, I am / we are still cranking away on a documentary film about “Little Liza Jane.” Emily and I feel a renewed sense of momentum regarding this endeavour (sic). Having seen Poor Gal hit the bookshelves, I have returned (buoyantly) to my “creative writing practice” or rather my “roots” as a writer. On the one hand, this would involve dealing with some shocking experiences—such as the long-ago murder of my friend Warren—as well as rendering myself more “vulnerable” in the presence of my own foibles. 



This too, of course. Not long after my friend (and his girlfriend) were murdered, my brother David Gutstein passed away. He had just turned 27. Over the last twelve months, I have really reflected upon the gift of life. One that I have been fortunate enough to enjoy but my brother was not fully able to: he has been gone, by now, for more years than he lived. He had not really gotten started. I visited his grave earlier this year and it really f****** hurt. Yet this well of emotion cannot simply smolder. It must lead to creativity, community—and earthly love. 



“I hate spending a lot of time in graveyards / We’re all gonna spend a lot of time in graveyards.” I meant these lyrics with both acidic and ironic properties alike. (Obviously, they follow from my admission above.) This music video from Joy on Fire’s 2022 album States of America is certainly titled for the season. The song features a medium burn and a more lyrical presentation than some of the hard-charging songs we fashioned together. Too, John Paul Carillo (bass, guitar) and Anna Meadors (saxophones) visited some fabulous production values on the effort. They filmed half of it in Trenton and the other half here, with me, in the Rockville, Md. area. “Show interest / Show interest / I show interest you” is aimed at you, my friend. Reach out. Let’s talk.



Let us not end the year without some serious geese and gosling action. Have a gander at this here gaggle as they comply with local traffic signage. They do not run afoul of going the wrong way down a one-way, so you can relax, the giant yellow arrow tells said waddlers where to waddle. These fowls are headed to the creek, where they can duck back onto the water. Even as they disappear around the bend, it is not their swan song. These here gooses can be seen regularly in the air as a plump wedge. In fact, they live in the same habitat (where their habit is at) as my best animal friend forever, the mischievous scoundrel known as The Fox.



People ask me have you seen The Fox? Well, yes I have. She is quite robust. Rusty red. Full of mischief. A true scoundrel of the finest calibre (sic). This summer, I spent some time with her before I went to live downtown in a friend’s apartment. Perhaps she sensed that I might be departing for a bit, so we chilled in the shallow woods, enjoying each other’s company. For some reason, the fake Australian accent emerges—“You’re a good lookin’ fox, man”—but she’s a vixen, not a reynard (sic). When she sees me, she has this way of darting a short distance away and then abruptly sitting down. She slays me pretty good with her wily shenanigans!


I’ll never forget the day The Fox let me sit at the edge of the den, where her seven kits flounced about, clearly inheritors of the same vulpine mischief. She brought seven rascally souls into the world!


Notably, in 2023, I vanquished my first chess-bot rated 2000—even as I played the black pieces! I am usually too chicken to sacrifice my queen, but I did so because an opportunity presented itself. And lo, the chess-bot was check-mated. Heh heh heh.

Happy New Year, Everyone! My very best wishes to you and your loved ones.



It would not be a true Blood And Gutstein post without a thumping R&B shaker. You may know Booker T. and the MGs for their hit “Green Onions” but I will take “MG Party” any day. The addition of horns to the classic lineup really clinches this song as a romping dance-floor instrumental from 1964. The infectious, propulsive beat will overcome the proceedings. To wit, let us flounce like kits, let us sacrifice our queens, let us croon at the microphone, let us be mentored, let us tell the kinds of tales that exemplify our connections to one another. Above all else, let us strive for peace and love. This is aimed at you, my friend. Reach out. Let’s talk.


----
discographical information for “MG Party”
Booker T. and the MG’s. “MG Party” B-side b/w “Soul Dressing” A-side. Stax S-153, Memphis, Tennessee, 1964. Likely personnel: Booker T. Jones (organ); Steve Cropper (guitar); Donald Dunn (bass guitar); Al Jackson, Jr. (drums); Wayne Jackson (trumpet); Floyd Newman (baritone saxophone); Charles “Packy” Axton (tenor saxophone). Compositional credit: Jones, Cropper, Jackson, Dunn.


Wednesday, November 1, 2023

FROM MARGARET WALKER TO RAHSAAN ROLAND KIRK: A GLANCE AT THE LESSER-KNOWN HEROES BEHIND THE DEVELOPMENT, PRESERVATION, & POPULARIZATION OF “LIZA JANE.”


Publication info

Poor Gal: The Cultural History of Little Liza Jane
, University Press of Mississippi, November 27, 2023. Available at UPM website, Amazon, and other online merchants. “Liza Jane” is also the subject of a forthcoming documentary film; please visit the project’s website for a trailer, information on the creative team, details on participating musicians, and ways to support the production. […For even more, please see the Poor Gal table of contents; Poor Gal Spotify playlist; and the author’s website.]

_____


Broadly speaking, my forthcoming book Poor Gal: The Cultural History of Little Liza Jane chronicles the formation, spread, and enduring importance of the “Liza Jane” family of songs. “Little Liza Jane” and its sibling tunes crossed many boundaries to reach what I call the “musical paradises of the twentieth century.” Once there, they appealed to a slew of “big name” performers, whose performances were often stunning.

Stars such as Harry Belafonte, Nina Simone, and Pete Seeger (among many others) embraced “Liza Jane” songs throughout the twentieth century. Their renditions often made important political, emotional, and historical statements. Notably, an adaptation of “Little Liza Jane” became David Bowie’s very first single in 1964. Today, a new group of influential musicians such as Dom Flemons and Nora Brown have recorded “Liza Jane,” thereby preserving a tradition that began in the nineteenth century.

It is likely that the “Liza Jane” family of songs originated more than 150 years ago among enslaved people on southern plantations. From hardscrabble beginnings rooted in African American folk tradition, these bright, joyous tunes eventually found the stars, to be sure, but also a slate of less-celebrated individuals who made vital contributions to the development, popularization, and preservation of “Liza Jane.” With that in mind, I thought it might be enjoyable for readers to get a sense of some of the lesser-known women and men who will also populate the book, in addition to the recognizable stars. To me, the impacts made by these lesser-known heroes compete with those of the “heavyweights.”

From quieter, behind-the-scenes moments rooted in folk tradition to the big-audience moments in front of tens of millions, “Liza Jane” has crossed so many boundaries — including the color line, historical eras, geographical regions, music genres, and performance traditions — its story reminds us of our shared humanity.


Margaret Walker’s
novel Jubilee begins in the antebellum South on a Georgia plantation. In the novel’s early going, Walker describes performance rituals associated with a game song played together by African American and white children, “Steal Miss Liza (Steal Liza Jane).” The analysis of this episode in Jubilee is part of Poor Gal’s second “intermission” which also looks at the inclusion of “Liza Jane” in fictional works by Charles Chesnutt and Jean Toomer.



In his autobiography, composer W.C. Handy describes how “snatches of folk melody” influenced his compositions. It appears likely that the earliest forms of “Liza Jane” contained similar “snatches of song.” Handy’s observations help to form Poor Gal’s theoretical framework and are discussed in the book’s “Introduction,” along with essential contributions by sociologist Howard Odum, the regal Duke Ellington, and African musicologists.


A regiment of African American soldiers during the Civil War

“Liza Jane” songs appealed to regiments from both sides of the Civil War. Stunningly, two opposing regiments — a Union unit comprised of Black soldiers and the other a Confederate unit — were both singing “Liza Jane” as they marched toward a battle at Spotsylvania Courthouse in 1864. Regimental adoptions of “Liza Jane” are presented in Chapter II of Poor Gal, which also explores the contributions made by the mysterious war correspondent “Dr. Adonis.”


Native American (t) and African American (b)   
musicians at the Hampton Institute ca. 1898-99


“Little Liza Jane” enjoyed many decades of popularity as a dance game at the Hampton Institute, now known as Hampton University. This community of students, and other communities like it, helped to preserve the essential character of “Little Liza Jane,” which would become the most beloved “Liza Jane” variant in the twentieth century. The presence of “Liza Jane” at the Hampton Institute is covered in multiple chapters of Poor Gal.


Did the eighteenth-century Scottish poet Robert Burns (and his poem “Farewell to Eliza”) influence the formation of “Liza Jane” songs? Poor Gal explores this possibility in the book’s first “intermission,” as well as potential influences from nineteenth century American songs and poetry. Notably, Robert Burns enjoyed widespread popularity in the United States when the first “Liza Jane” songs likely developed.



An influential friendship developed between student-composer Harry T. Burleigh and Antonín Dvořák, when the Czech composer became director of the National Conservatory of Music in New York, in 1892. Burleigh was quite fond of “Liza Jane” and it is likely that he sang the song for his friend and mentor. This episode is developed in Chapter XV, one that also connects Nina Simone, David Bowie, and Langston Hughes to the expansive “Liza Jane” constellation.


George W. Johnson (t) and Arthur Collins (b)


“Liza Jane” songs attained “hit” status in the early recording era. Among others, African American star George W. Johnson (in 1898) and baritone Arthur Collins (in 1903) both produced popular versions of “Goodbye Liza Jane.” The former reclaimed a variant that had flourished in minstrelsy while the latter performed a Tin Pan Alley number. These efforts are discussed across various chapters that measure how societal forces acted upon early recordings of “Liza Jane.”



Actress, aviatrix, and novelist Ruth Chatterton may have been most responsible for popularizing “Little Liza Jane” in the World War I era. Unlike “Goodbye Liza Jane,” this variant likely did not feature in minstrelsy, and instead, was popularized by Chatterton from 1916-1917 during more than 200 performances of a Broadway play. Chatterton’s influence is chronicled in chapter XI of Poor Gal, which also introduces the enigmatic composer Countess Ada de Lachau. 


Beginning in the 1930s, two young musicians known as the DeZurik Sisters or the Cackle Sisters appeared on syndicated radio shows all over the country. They became especially famous for their virtuosic imitations of chickens. And of course, they sang about “Liza Jane.” The Cackle Sisters are discussed in Chapter XIII of Poor Gal, alongside other big-audience moments in popular films, television programs, early animations, and radio shows. 



The multi-instrumentalist Rahsaan Roland Kirk loved performing “Little Liza Jane” and on one occasion told a colorful onstage story about the original Liza Jane. Poor Gal examines this moment in the book’s final chapter, in an exploration of Liza Jane’s identity. In the end, we may never know who inspired the first “Liza Jane” songs but a great number of people associated these tunes with brightness, levity, and dancing — the indomitable nature of the human spirit. 



Also check out the Poor Gal Table of Contents

[*All images sourced from Wikimedia commons and are thought to be in the public domain.]


POOR GAL: THE CULTURAL HISTORY OF LITTLE LIZA JANE TABLE OF CONTENTS.


 

Publication info

Poor Gal: The Cultural History of Little Liza Jane
, University Press of Mississippi, November 27, 2023. Available at UPM website, Amazon, and other online merchants. “Liza Jane” is also the subject of a forthcoming documentary film; please visit the project’s website for a trailer, information on the creative team, details on participating musicians, and ways to support the production. […For even more, please see a post regarding some of the lesser-known characters in Poor Gal; Poor Gal Spotify playlist; and the author’s website.]


Dear Readers, this post is meant, simply, to present Poor Gal’s Table of Contents:


Introduction: Sludge and Theory

I. Snotches of Songs: The WPA Slave Narrative Collection

II. “Liza Jane,” You Little Rogue: Dr. Adonis and the Regiments

III. 1865

IV. Intermission Number One: The Potential Influences of Robert Burns, “Susan Jane,” and Others

V. “Liza Jane” Meets the Masses: Postbellum Minstrelsy, Part First and Part Third

VI. From the Bold Soldier Boy’s Songbook to the Cylinders of George W. Johnson: “Oh, Goodbye Liza Jane”

VII. From the New Orleans Levee to the Hampton Institute: “Little Liza Jane” ad infinitum

VIII. Intermission Number Two: The Literary “Liza Jane” of Charles Chesnutt, Jean Toomer, and Margaret Walker

IX. You Went a-Driving with Mister Brown: The Tin Pan Alley Publishing Bonanza

X. Poor Gal

XI. I’se Got a Gal and You Got None: A Countess-Composer and an Actress-Aviatrix Popularize “Li’l Liza Jane”

XII. Intermission Number Three: Effie Lee Newsome’s “Charcoal, Leddy, Charcoal” and Betty Vincent’s “Problems of the Heart”

XIII. “Liza Jane” Meets the Media: Film, Animation, Radio, Television

XIV. The Lomaxes

XV. The Constellation That Connects Langston Hughes and David Bowie, Antonín Dvořák and Nina Simone

XVI. Portrait of a Young Enslaved Woman Standing Still in the Cathedral Silence of the Deep Woods after a Dance

Appendix 1: Loose Ends

Appendix 2: Sheet Music or Notated Music of Major Variants


Also included are an Apologia and Acknowledgments in the “front matter” of the book as well as Notes, Works Cited, and Index at the end of the book.