"Arrested on charges of unemployment, he was sitting in the witness stand..."
from "Brown Eyed Handsome Man," by Chuck Berry.
For several years now I've had unread copies of "Invisible Man" by Ralph Ellison sitting in my bookshelves-- first an old used paperback that I started reading several times, and then a nice new trade paperback that I just looked at and felt bad about.
Then, during the last couple of weeks, I read it and loved it.
I actually read it, in part, because of this blogging about Chuck Berry. I remembered, wrongly, as it turns out, that Michael Lydon had mentioned "Invisible Man" in his liner notes to "Back Home." I checked them recently and found out I was wrong. But I thank Mssrs. Lydon and Berry for getting me to the book, anyway.
And when I read the funeral oration for handsome Tod Clifton, I couldn't help but remember why I started reading it in the first place.
"Tod Clifton's one with the ages. But what's that to do with you in this heat under this veiled sun? Now he's part of history, and he has received his true freedom. Didn't they scribble his name on a standardized pad? His Race: colored! Religion: unknown, probably born Baptist. Place of birth: U.S. Some southern town. Next of kin: unknown. Address: unknown. Occupation: unemployed. Cause of death (be specific): resisting reality in the form of a .38 caliber revolver in the hands of the arresting officer, on forty-second between the library and the subway in the heat of the afternoon, of gunshot wounds received from three bullets, fired at three paces, one bullet entering the right ventricle of the heart , and lodging there, the other severing the spinal ganglia traveling downward to lodge in the pelvis, the other breaking through the back and traveling God knows where."
Chuck Berry never wrote stuff like that, but he made his point, travelling "'cross Mississippi clean," and putting his hero on trial for not having a job. Later some of the teenagers that Berry taught even read "Invisible Man."
Several reviewers said that Dylan's new song "Jolene" sounds like a Chuck Berry number. It sure starts that way:
Well you're comin' down High Street, walkin' in the sun
You make the dead man rise, and holler she's the one
Jolene, Jolene
Compare that to:
As I got on a city bus and found a vacant seat
I thought I saw my future bride walking up the street
I shouted to the driver "'Hey conductor you must
Slow down I think I see her, please, let me off this bus!
Nadine!'
But the similarity falls apart with Dylan's next line:
"Baby, I am the king and you're the queen"
On Nadine and Maybellene the narrator is anything but a king-- he's (almost) always one step behind, watching that bad girl disappear over the hill or into a Caddie. And in Tulane he falls flat on his face and winds up in jail as the girl makes it over and runs. At least half the time Chuck Berry's hero's are lagging behind, frustrated, or standing on the sidelines dreaming.
I got a chance, I ought to take it...
In a wee little room, I sit alone and think of you...
Can you imagine the way I felt?
I couldn't unfasten her safety belt
The only real "king" (other than Johnny) is the Brown Eyed Handsome Man. He gets alllllll the girls and smacks the home runs, too.
Milo Venus was a beautiful lass
She had the world in the palm of her hand
But she lost both her arms in a wrestling match
To get brown eyed handsome man
She fought and won herself a brown eyed handsome man
Two, three count with nobody on
He hit a high fly into the stand
Rounding third he was headed for home
It was a brown eyed handsome man
That won the game; it was a brown eyed handsome man
Anyway, here's "Jolene." I might get to hear it live October five!
"With entries on the porn star Linda Lovelace, the indie film “Wild Style” and Hurricane Katrina, it is clear that “A New Literary History of America” is not your typical Harvard University Press anthology. Although it has many features of an academic compendium — page numbers that reach into four digits and scores of scholarly contributors — this new collection of essays, being released on Wednesday, roams far beyond any standard definition of literature. Aside from compositions that contain the written word, its subjects include war memorials, jazz, museums, comic strips, film, radio, musicals, skyscrapers, cybernetics and photography."
"Each topic begins with an event, a moment that something changed, an act of creation, the editors said. Chuck Berry was included rather than Elvis Presley, Mr. Marcus said, because Mr. Berry wrote his own songs. A similar analysis favored the country singer Hank Williams."
Here are some shots from Doug "busseybootlegger" who went to the Duck Room last week and shared it with us-- and further down, a video of Every Day I Have The Blues with Ingrid Clay Berry on harp.
I was going to chop it up and feed it back, but that makes no sense. Here's a link to the forum and "busseybootlegger"s review and photos of a show where it sounds like everything clicked: http://chuckberry.com/messageboard/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=2747
(Coming Soon, excerpts from BusseyBootlegger's Rock 'em Sock 'em [and, as it turns out, very true] REVIEW of the September 16, 2009 SHOW at Blueberry Hill!)
Darlin', your father's growing older, I fear; Strains of gray are showing bolder each year. Lay your head upon my shoulder, my dear: Time is fading fast away.
“Darlin’” (copyright) Chuck Berry
These lyrics, quoted several years ago in The New Yorker, are what we hope to hear sung one day—on record, sure, but preferably on stage, with Darlin’ Ingrid Berry somewhere nearby.
If it’s true, as reported back in 2002, that the song “goes on to sing of death and tells how tired he's grown of playing his ancient hits and doing his trademark duckwalk for the pleasure of baby boomers” then by all means, he should stop singing them, and trust us to love the new stuff—the stuff that’s gone more or less unheard for 30 years now, since 1979’s “Rockit.”
That’s what Blueberry Hill should be—a place where real fans can go and hear Chuck Berry be himself, singing ballads and blues and rarities along with a “hit” or two.
I have heard “Nadine” played as well as it can be played. I have heard “Johnny” be very, very good lots and lots of times. I’ve heard “School Day,” and “Reeling and Rocking” and His “Ding-a-Ling.”
But I’ve never heard “Darlin’,” or “Lady Be Good,” or “Big Boys.” Nor have I heard “Oh Louisiana” sung live, or even classics like “Havana Moon.”
Chuck Berry—you’ve got a band that loves you, and fans that love you, and some years left.
Maybe at Blueberry Hill you play the new stuff, the unheard stuff, the stuff you’d really like to play before it’s all over.
He takes as many liberties with the "tunes" of his hits as Bob Dylan. He's with a pickup band and longtime bassist Jimmy Marsala. It's sort of fun. (Thanks to Jan for posting this one on http://www.chuckberry.com/!)
I was using the word "Weird" a lot yesterday, but "it must have been some other body" who called a recent CB/Little Richard show "weird." (They can be interesting, though!)
Here's a review from Berry's show at B. B. King's in NYC a few days back.
So, I have seen "Hail! Hail!" and "Let The Good Times Roll," "The T.A.M.I. show," "Jazz on A Summer's Day," the Toronto concert footage, the London concert footage and a couple of dozen television appearances over the years-- but nothing I've seen on film or video has captured the best of what I saw live. I can do without most of the guest appearances on "Hail! Hail!"? Julian seems like a nice guy, but his screeching "Go Johnny Go!" doesn't send me. "Let the Good Times Roll" was a good time-- but I don't need to see oldies acts and don't consider Chuck Berry to be one. The Toronto concert is a masterful performance by Berry himself-- but that band? How does it feel to be captured, with all your rhythmic challenges exposed, backing the rhythmically seismic Mr. Berry? He triumphs despite them.
Well, this won't match some of the shows I saw, either--- but it's the best I can do with what I've got. Help me out. Send me your best clips. (But NO ding-a-lings!) This is just one show-- there are 300 more to do this year, and for 55 more years.
Anyway, a ragged instrumental to start things off and get in tune.
Then maybe a little blues. Why not Wee Wee Hours?
Memphis, Tennessee
Nadine used to always be a turning point
After Nadine he'd say "We're warmed up-- with your permission we'll start the show!"
Maybe Roll Over Beethoven
Sweet Little Sixteen dropped the tight dress for jeans and hot pants for a while-- then put on the dress again.
Mean Old World (wish I could put on the one from The London Sessions!)
Let It Rock (I always get the feeling this is one of his favorites)...
Maybellene
Carol (This version is THE BEST!)
A mellow, masterful version of You Never Can Tell
I NEVER saw him play No Money Down
Reelin' and Rockin' can get lot raunchier than this-- but I like this one.
In those innocent days before "House Lights" he used to end the show in French, tapping at his guitar...
Bon Soir Cheri
Je dois partir
Bon Soir Cheri
Je dois partir
Je vous aime, beaucoup, Cheri (or, alternatively "Jabeljame")
Bon Soir Cheri, Bon soir!
The crowd would sway happily, until he translated...
Good night sweetearts
Oh but I've got to go now
This little song
Ends our show now
It's been so wonderful
I don't want to go
But good night
Bon soir
Bye bye
And then the guitar starts flailing, and warned that our time is short, so do we. Johnny B. Goode doesn't HAVE to end the show anymore, but it used to...
You have to use your iagination now, to watch him backing off stage playing those high notes, bowing, the guitar held vertically before him, bowing, backing, disappearing through the curtain, or just back behind the amps, packing his guitar, blowing a kiss, finding that girl, jumping into the Cadilac, and driving away to the airport and tomorrow's show. No encore but hey-- you got your money's worth.
When he’s singing “Johnny B. Goode” nowadays Chuck Berry usually sings “Maybe some day your name will be back in lights,” as if a comeback is in store.
When I was a kid I used to think the song “Sergeant Pepper” described Berry’s situation.
They’ve been going in and out of style,
But they’re guaranteed to raise a smile.
But the truth is that Chuck Berry never went out of style. His name has always been in lights, in part because he worked like a hero to keep it that way, doing show after show, night after night for 55 years. (Wait-- it didn't start with Maybellene. Make that 60 years!)
The records didn’t always sell. He had three clear bursts of record sales— 1955-1960, 1964-1965, and 1972, and it probably would have been an uninterrupted selling spree from 1955 to 1965 if it weren’t for a prison sentence that he didn’t deserve.
But in between and after the record sales he was always out doing concerts, keeping his fans happy and keeping name “in lights.”
Almost as soon as he got out of prison in October 1963 he recorded one of the best live shows I’ve heard him do at a Michigan casino. The 10 song set—with backup by a group of Motown studio musicians-- is included on the boxed set “Chuck Berry: You Never Can Tell: His Complete Chess Recordings 1960-1966.” It’s the reason I bought that package, and made it worth every dime to me.
In 1964 he made two tours of Europe, focusing, it seems, on England, where his influence was huge and fresh. Groups like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and many others were recording his songs and talking up his music to the press.
In October 1964 he was part of the T.A.M.I. show, a live concert that included Marvin Gaye, James Brown, Bo Diddley, and the Rolling Stones. It came out as film, probably in 1965. (Berry’s performances are short but very sweet—but unfortunately the cameras focus on the go-go dancers behind him.)
Then, in 1966 or 1967, things take a new turn. Berry is courted by San Francisco’s Bill Graham and becomes a staple headliner at the Fillmore. The pay sounds incredibly bad to me, but the venue introduces Berry to an important audience—boomers born a bit too late for the original hits, but who probably heard “Nadine” and “No Particular Place to Go” as teeny boppers. This is a big wave that runs from brother Stevo, who introduced me to Chuck Berry, all the way to me, and “My Ding-a-Ling.” (Actually his ding-a-ling. My curse.) Berry was suddenly bigger than ever, playing mega-shows like the Toronto festival, and able to let his music mature a bit. He played more blues, and his guitar playing matured. For me, these are the golden years of Chuck Berry guitar playing.
And he kept making records—some of the first I was able to buy, including “Back Home,” “San Francisco Dues,” “The London Sessions,” and “Bio.” Only “The London Sessions” was a big seller, but all of these albums were good, all got reviews in the major magazines, and all of them probably sold decently.
Throughout the 1970s and 1980s he kept touring regularly, always a headliner now. He was part of the Richard Nader “Rock and Roll Revivals” (got himself into serious tax troubles) and worked as a single doing shows all over the country with a pickup band or, if you were lucky, with The Woolies.” Then Casinos, and State Fairs. And Europe—always Europe, and Asia.
One of the problems he faced in the early 1970s was the classification as an "oldies" act. It never made sense. He was still making great records-- and his music is too fundamental and fundamentally sound to be oldy or moldy. Its roots in the blues are too deep, and the lyrics are too good. It's just great music-- the U.S.A.'s most enduring legacy.
And then 1986-1987 and another burst—the movie, and the The Autobiography, and a decent soundtrack album, all of which got noticed.
Now the legend began to grow. His music has already been launched into outer space. He get's a Lifetime Grammy. He's honored at Kennedy Center by the President (dear God I hope it wasn't Bush!) He's first into the Rock and Roll hall of Fame. (http://www.rockhall.com/) He was and remains a fixture in Rolling Stone’s incessant lists of “greatest.” Best Guitar Songs—“Johnny B. Goode” comes in at number one. It’s on the “best songs” list as well, and he’s way up there on the lists of “best guitarists” and “all time best.” He even gets a credible shout out on the “best singers” list.
In the 21st century books started coming out, including two full scale biographies, “Brown Eyed Handsome Man” by Bruce Pegg and “Chuck Berry” by John Collis. There are also a couple of books about the music, including “Long Distance Information: Chuck Berry’s Recorded Legacy,” by Fred Rothwell.
And finally, Blueberry Hill, one of his coolest moves ever, where month after month Chuck Berry has played shows at a tiny venue in his home town of St. Louis that can’t be too profitable, but which have become legendary for their spirit—fun, loving shows with a stable house band and fans that come from around town and around the world to see and hear a legend.
All told, nearly 55 years—an incredible legacy— and the name has been in lights just about the entire time. Pretty cool.
And no accident. In this case, I’d say 99% inspiration, and 101% perspiration.
I often talk about how beautifully Chuck Berry played the guitar in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Here's a nice example. This is as sweet as it gets. Never saw him with a backup band that played so gently!
I had read that Bruce Springsteen was playing "You Never Can Tell" on tour this year. ForeverChuck68 posted this hard rocking version from Bilbao, Spain on . Thanks FC!
“We’ll sing the old alma mater and think of things that used to be.”
I just got back from my first high school reunion.
About 40 people met in a funny looking building out in the middle of nowhere. This was fitting because my high school consisted of about 40 people in a funny looking building in the middle of nowhere.
It was started in 1969 by an African American woman looking to get her kids safely through school. When the last one graduated, ten years later, she shut it down.
But it was a helluva good school while it lasted.
The woman who ran it was smart and tough. (She was an African American woman starting her own school in 1969. You do the math.)
The teachers were almost all amazing.
The kids were trouble. That’s why we were there.
(Actually, I wasn’t much trouble, but I was sufficiently weird to qualify.)
One of my weirdest qualities, was, of course, one that I just might share with you—a vaguely unnatural interest in Chuck Berry. I was singing his virtues to my high school friends and everyone else I met long before "My Ding-a-Ling" and "Reelin' and Rockin'" brought him back to the mainstream.
At the reunion one friend described me doing the “scoot” at school. (The "scoot" is the one where he sticks one foot out in front and dances forward, backward, or wherever he wants to go while still soloing on the guitar. It's often confused with the "duckwalk" where he squats down and, well, walks like a duck.) This is an episode I’ve expunged from my memory banks, but I have no doubt it happened. (I have not been able to expunge a moment at Octoberfest, 1974, where I did a drunken scoot on top of a table in Munich. Luckily, beer prevailed, more giant ones were ordered, and everyone hailed Chuck Berry.)
When my friend mentioned my feeble scoot I tried to change the subject by describing the Brazilian who did it on stage and was so warmly received by Chuck Berry. I aped his performance. My friend laughed. “You got a lot lower in high school,” she said.
That’s for sure.
Chuck Berry recorded some pretty sweetly sentimental songs about school and high school. My favorite might be "Time Was," which wasn't his, but which he seemed to like.
Time was
When we had fun on the school yard swing
When we exchanged graduation rings
One lovely yesterday
It’s nice to have gone to a high school that makes you feel just like those songs.
(This version of School Day shows a great performance with a backup band that-- but hey, I would have been scared %$^less, too).
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One thing leads to another. I go to Mississippi. I come home. I tune my guitar to E. I try, for the 100th time to play slide guitar without much success. I go to a record store. I spend too much. I come home with Skip James, Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters from 1941 (sounding exactly like Robert Johnson) and Little Walter. I listen to them all (haunted by James, surprised by Waters). I play Little Walter’s “Mean Old World,” and because one thing leads to another, I put on disk one of the “Johnny B. Goode: The Complete 1950s Recordings.” I wear myself out trying to play backup rhythm, country style, to Maybellene. I actually sound sort of good playing “Together We Will Always Be.” By the time I get to the last track, “Oh Baby Doll,” I’m almost comfortable. Along the way I listen to “Deep Feeling,” the slide number. I notice the key (E) and how high up the frets the high notes are.
“Deep Feeling” has always been one of my favorites. On my first Chuck Berry record, “The Golden Decade,” it stuck out as something pretty special on the first side. I remember an older friend who didn’t really know Chuck Berry telling me that he’d heard a remarkable blues song on the radio, listened transfixed, and then found out it was Chuck. Later I’d hear “Blues for Hawaiians,” and maybe another song or two recorded on the little Fender 400 Hawaiian/ Country Western guitar that Berry bought sometime in the 1950s.
I never saw him play it, of course. I figured it was long gone until that great final scene in “Hail! Hail! Rock ‘n’ Roll,” where you hear “Blues for Hawaiians,” a cappella, as the camera pans in over the guitar shaped (muck filled) swimming pool, through the door at Berry Park, to find our man sitting stiffly at the little pedestal guitar, doing a solo number on a 30 year old number.
(Steel guitar afficionados took notice. Here's a link.)
During the movie Eric Clapton says that he should play more ballads at his shows—that people would love it. I’ll add: he should have the steel guitar on stage, too, just in case the fancy strikes him. But I know you don’t tell, can’t tell, Chuck Berry what to do.
But this morning I go downstairs and find the guitar still tuned to an open E, and the glass slide still sitting there, and it occurs to me for the first time in my 100 or so failed attempts to pass over “Dust My Broom” and try “Deep Feeling.” The sliding notes are all deeply embedded into my memory and nervous system. I pick up the slide. I poke for the notes. I reach up for the zinging high note. I let the slide pour down the fret board like water from a pitcher.
It sounds terrible. But I’m a late bloomer.
Maybe by the time I’m 82 I’ll have it down!
(Go about 2:50 into this and you'll hear someone who does have it down!)
The picture above shows the exterior of the office and Blues Chapel. I stayed in Electric Blue, right, a cabin set off to one side, with a front porch, two bedrooms, a living area, bath, microwave, a free live blues performance by excellent musicians, and decent in-room coffee for about half what I spent at the Jackson Marriott one night prior. (They had good coffee, too, and a bigger bed.) There's room for a family in this shack.
The only other thing I did in Clarksdale (besides eating good food) was make a quick trip to the Delta Blues Museum. It’s worth a visit. When I was there they had great photographs of the Delta by Nathan Miller, clothing, guitars and harmonicas used by various musicians, (including B. B. King), and the wooden bones of an entire log cabin once inhabited by Muddy Waters.
The museum website has a good section on planning your visit to Clarksdale. Next time I go I’ll make sure I have time to visit some of the blues clubs, record stores and restaurants.
But I had to go back to Jackson to catch a plane. I made time for lunch in Indianola, and leisurely drives through the “downtowns” of all the little villages and cities along my route—places like Cleveland, Yazoo City and Bentonia. (Which locales give me an excuse to inflict another of my ancient, teenage drawings—this one of Skip James, below, who was born in Yazoo or Bentonia.)
I was a little sad, towards the end of my drive to see the gently rolling hills that meant I was leaving the Delta for drier land. But there’s tomorrow. And the day after that.
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