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Big Mo Pod Show: “Across the Blues Universe”

I heard the Big Mo Blues Show last night and the Big Mo Pod Show today. The podcast song selection was part of the Lunch with Chuck portion of the show, which I don’t know a whole lot about. The Lunch with Chuck thing I’ve heard Big Mo talk about and I think it involves a real guy named Chuck who talks music with Big Mo sometimes, although I’ve not heard an actual live Lunch with Chuck program during the blues show. And it might be another Big Mo running joke.

Big Mo Pod Show 079 – “Across The Blues Universe”

The other thing I want to mention is that I heard Big Mo talk last night just before the Lunch with Chuck thing about something like a “fish psychic”. I think it’s a new comedy bit like MayRee’s Hand-Battered Catfish and Shorty’s Adult Diapers. I can’t remember the whole fish psychic bit, but I’m pretty sure he’ll do it again, maybe even next Friday. I think it’s another faux advertisement, and it might be about some kind of fish psychic who can help you catch lunker bass and the like.

Anyway, I learned something from the pod show today. I’d never heard of something called “race records” which is one term Lightnin Hopkins song “Mojo Hand” led to. Race records were 78-rpm phonograph records marketed to black people back in the days of the victrola, between the years of the 1920s to the 1940s, well before my time.

The other term new to me is the title of Hopkins’ song, “Mojo Hand.” The podcast discussion mentioned that mojo hand referred to African American voodoo charms, one of which happened to be a lucky charm, possibly a dried monkey’s paw. The song is actually about using voodoo to keep a lover from being unfaithful. The song means more now that I know that.

Another thing I learned today was that the song “Feel So Bad” (recorded in 1966) by Little Milton has a lyric in it, “feel like a ball game on a rainy day” that was repeated by boxer Muhammad Ali when he found out he had to wait 6 weeks before the Rumble in the Jungle match in 1974. That was because Foreman had to heal up first because he suffered a laceration above his right eye during a sparring match.

What I also didn’t know was that the Rumble in the Jungle had political overtones. There is an article entitled “Remembering the Rumble in the Jungle” subtitled “The 1974 Rumble in the Jungle was freighted with symbolism regarding American racial politics and the pan-African struggle in the context of the Cold War.”

One more thing I learned from the podcast is related to the song “Wine O’Clock” by Shemekia Copeland. He called this song a women’s support tune and, unlike my disagreement about this issue in last week’s podcast, I tend to agree with this song being about women supporting each other or at least understanding their burdens in a society marked by gender role disparity.

What helped me reach this understanding is an article entitled “What makes up wine o’clock…” published in 2022.

Wright CJC, Miller M, Kuntsche E, Kuntsche S. ‘What makes up wine o’clock? Understanding social practices involved in alcohol use among women aged 40-65 years in Australia. Int J Drug Policy. 2022 Mar;101:103560. doi: 10.1016/j.drugpo.2021.103560. Epub 2021 Dec 29. PMID: 34973490.

The abstract reminds me of the discomfort with the idea of women (or anyone regardless of gender) using alcohol to cope with socially designated roles.

“Think I’ll have another glass; the world can kiss my ass; tick tock, it’s Wine O’Clock.”

I sometimes learn a lot more than I expect from the Big Mo Pod Show.

Big Mo Pod Show: “High Strangeness”

As usual, I listened to the Big Mo Blues Show last night. Today, we listened to the Big Mo Pod Show, and it sure was interesting.

Big Mo Pod Show 0 78 – “High Strangeness”

First, I’d like to point out that the title “High Strangeness” doesn’t apply to all of the songs on the podcast. In fact, only the first one, “Neoprene Fedora” would sound a little strange as a blues tune, and then only the first couple of minutes or so of this guitar instrumental. We think it has 3 or 4 segments with only the first one sounding mostly like a surfing tune. Most of it did sound bluesy.

The song “Catfish Blues” by Corey Harris was fascinating mainly because it prompted Big Mo to mention MayRee’s hand-battered catfish. We heard him say that this was about MayRee. We’re not so sure. We couldn’t figure out the connection between MayRee and catfish that you could catch in a river maybe somewhere down south, (possibly Louisiana?) in a very specific place where there used to be a couple of shacks where you could get hand-battered catfish.

He had very specific names for places like “Brownsville” or someplace the name of which reminded me of a French word, “rouleaux” (which I connect with stacks of red blood cells just because I learned this is medical school). But it sounded like it was a place. AI popped right up and said there’s no such place by that name in Louisiana or Texas. Big Mo also mentioned that it was close to a “Missouri river bridge.” I think we heard him right. The Missouri runs along the western boundary of Iowa. There are bridges in that area, but I can’t tell which one is referred to.

I’m thinking this story might just be adding texture to the whole MayRee’s hand-battered catfish yarn.

Another puzzle was somebody Big Mo mentioned called Tail Dragger, to which Corey Harris had a connection. Big Mo didn’t expand on this, but I did manage to find out about somebody named Tail Dragger Jones, who was an American Chicago blues singer. He has an interesting Wikipedia entry on the web. He shot and killed a blues artist known as Boston Blackie and did prison time for it.

And we had the impression that the last song reviewed on the podcast, “Take It Easy” by Ruthie Foster, was a blues song that was readily applicable to anyone having a tough time in life. On the other hand, Big Mo thought it was about women being mistreated by men and how to bear up under this burden.

Conversely, our impression is that most blues songs done by men often have themes that remind you of the chauvinistic attitude men have for women. Just listen to any of the other songs on the podcast list and look up the lyrics (because you can’t always understand them on the recordings).

I especially like songs which have lyrics that I can clearly understand, and “Take It Easy” is one of them.

Big Mo Pod Show: “Passin’ the Torch”

I caught the Big Mo Pod Show last night and listened to the podcast this afternoon. That’s later than I usually do because we were running around today learning how to use our new smartphones. You know, the makers don’t send the phones with even basic instructions. I guess they just expect you to guess right.

Big Mo Pod Show 077 – “Passin’ The Torch”

It’s like passing the torch (the title of the pod show) with the burning end towards your face. The phones are really slippery because they wash them with triple muddifying brahma bull body wash and add a 3-inch charging cable.

Anyway, I think the passing the torch title really comes from the Morganfield family. One of Muddy Water’s sons named Mud did a number called “She’s Getting her Groove On.” Mckinley is another son of Muddy and he’s also a blues musician.

Big Mo called one of the numbers on the blues show last night a novelty song: “Willie Dixon’s Gone,” by Tom Hambridge. Producer Noah asked him point blank, “What makes a song a novelty song?” to which Big Mo replies, “Ohhh, that is so hard!” He named a few like “Alley Oop.” And in general, his answer was that novelty songs are “overdone” and “over-shticked.” So, the novelty songs are comical.

But for comical, I don’t think you can beat one of my favorite songs that Big Mo played last night but didn’t make today’s list: “Can’t Even Do Wrong Right,” by Elvin Bishop. He grew up on a farm in Iowa. He even did a song titled “Calling All Cows.” I’ll let you look that one up.

Big Mo Pod Show: “Planting Seeds”

The Big Mo Pod Show title is about planting seeds in a metaphorical way. One of the seeds Big Mo sows is his comedy bit on MayRee’s hand-battered catfish. It’s just one of his hilarious faux sponsor routines that he frequently tweaks, and the subtle changes are difficult to catch if you don’t listen to his show every Friday night. It evolves, kind of like a shaggy dog story joke. My lame imitation from my crippled memory is below:

You see, MayRee’s hand-battered catfish is better because it’s battered, cooked to perfection with manic delight, packed with nitrates at her shack which you can find at the corner of Highway 6 and Snowflake Drive, and if you tip her and give her a wink, she’ll set you up with a mason jar of her famous kickin’ mule’ not sure if it’s all the way legal, but it comes in 3 flavors, Classic Clear, Golden Grabass, and just right for the holidays, Pumpkin Spice, that’s Mayree’s hand-battered catfish; it’s better because it’s battered.

You get the idea. I’m still trying to sell him on my design for a MayRee’s hand-battered catfish tee shirt. Don’t know why he’s not biting that hook. The catfish could be a fire truck red color, just sayin’.

So, the pod show title is “Planting Seeds” and that’s related to the idea of fundamental, historically important basic elements of blues music, specifically in the case of Jessie Mae Hemphill’s song “Jump, Baby, Jump.” Both Big Mo and Producer Noah agree that this example of North Mississippi hill country folk trance or hypnotic griot music (or grio, pronounced Gree-oh; a kind of West African traditional oral folklorist) which serves as the seed or basis for building on other layers (instrumental or otherwise). That’s just what I picked up from the internet.

Big Mo distinguishes this from “production” style music you hear a lot of nowadays on the radio and I get his disparaging tone about it.

Big Mo Pod Show 076 – “Planting Seeds”

Anyway, that’s the rich music history part of the pod show, which you can get by listening to KCCK on your radio dial at 88.3 or click on the Listen Now to hear by internet.

Now, what is also great about the show is Big Mo’s own historical perspective on music. That’s what you get by growing older. And that’s why my favorite song from last night from the Big Mo Blues Show was Curtis Salgado’s “The Longer That I Live.” I can identify with the lyrics.

Connecting the Dots between Kintsugi and the Blues

Since I wrote the blog about the Big Mo Pod Show, Hickory Smoked Blues, I’ve been trying to remember how I connected the dots between Kintsugi and blues music, which is said to be healing even though often it sounds like it could make you hurt.

I had a devil of a time tracking this down. The image of Kintsugi or Kintsukuroi, which is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the broken parts a mixture which contains powered gold.

The main idea is that repairing something broken using something like gold (read blues music here) can be healing.

You could also apply this to some other process, including psychotherapy.

The writing of a couple of people helped me make the connection. One of them is now a child psychiatrist named Jenna, who used to write the blog The Good Enough Psychiatrist, a link for which is still on my blog menu. Her post entitled “Amae” (a Japanese concept meaning cherished) caught my attention. Amae has both positive and negative aspects. In a way blues music is similar. It can be nourishing as long as it isn’t too focused on trauma.

About a month later, I found an essay by another child psychiatrist, Dr. Ashmita Banerjee, MD, entitled “The Power of Reflection and Self-Awareness,” actually mentions kintsukuroi at the end of the essay following her poem, called “Not A Poem.”

So, I think what I was getting at was pain and suffering can be reduced in healing ways, which can include art forms, like music. Some blues music can be repetitious, negative and even demoralizing when the emphasis is only on the pain. The other side of the blues can be uplifting, especially when there is the element of cherishing the tender, the wise, and the healing notes—the golden glue.

Both essays were the inspiration for my post, “Food for Thought.” The image of the kintsugi bowl is on both that post and “Big Mo Pod Show: Hickory Smoked Blues.” I still think the Robert Cray Band version of “I’ll Always Remember You” is a reminder of Kintsugi, at least for me.

Big Mo Pod Show: “Hickory Smoked Blues”

Today, the Big Mo Pod Show was about how blues music can you help you “exorcise your demons” as Big Mo himself put it today. Isn’t that what it’s always about? And I can’t explain how that even works.

But I don’t always understand how it works. I’m going to admit I’m not sure at all how one song last night by Toranzo Cannon would help anybody, and that’s “I Hate Love.” Of course, it’s contradictory and ironic. I’m not going to pretend I know what blues music is all about and how it can sometimes heal your inner soul pain.

But a lot of people believe that blues can help you get past the pain and it seems that it works paradoxically. I don’t always get it. But I’ve been listening to the Big Mo Blues Show for years.

That reminds me. We had a couple of guys install motorized window shades yesterday and one of them was a blues musician. He plays bass guitar and I gather he plays in local bands. He wore the best hat; it’s a fedora! Sena and I sort of ribbed him about it, but I had a fedora like that once, decades ago. It was gray with a narrow leather band. I don’t have it anymore.

I told him that I wore it while I was interviewing for residency. I wore it to dinner in a hotel in St. Louis, Missouri and a woman passing through the hotel restaurant looked at me and said with a grin, “Wear that hat!”

Sena reacted as if she’d never heard that story before. The fedora guy thought it was funny. Fedora man had that style to him that I think is fairly common in musicians. They look and may act in a way that makes you notice them. I don’t think you can always tell what somebody does just by the way he or she dresses. But when he told us he was a musician who liked the blues, that didn’t surprise us.

What did surprise us was that he didn’t recognize the name of a prominent blues musician in Iowa and a lot of other places—Kevin Burt. But he did have a sense of humor.

I think most blues musicians have a kind of slant sense of humor. It probably comes out in some of the music. I’m more drawn to blues music that makes me chuckle. On the other hand, I liked one song on the blues show last night they didn’t discuss today on the pod show. It’s not funny and I had a hard time finding the lyrics for it. It’s “I’ll Always Remember You” by the Robert Cray Band. I found a couple of sites I think got the lyrics below wrong and didn’t make sense. The way I heard the song the lines went like this:

“Old clothes and worn-out shoes
Empty bottles and a book that’s way past due.”

The line I keep finding that I think is wrong is the second one, which is often written as “Empty bottles and I put this way past due.”

I think the line “a book that’s way past due” makes more sense because it conveys a sense of regret, waste and loss and promises not kept and opportunities lost and probably a half-dozen other ideas that you probably can’t easily encapsulate. It evokes sorrow that is only partly fixed by the letter’s promise— “I’ll always remember you.”

That may not completely heal you, but it’s a little like something I read about kintsugi. It’s about mending broken pottery with gold in a literal sense. In a metaphorical sense, it’s about repairing what might be broken emotionally broken in us and, despite not being the same as we were before we were broken, we’re somehow still functional and healed though not perfect. A psychiatry resident blogger wrote about that.

A Bolt from the Blues!

The title of this post is inspired by a short comment I got today from an Iowa City musician named Ed English. It’s on my blog post from April 14, 2024 entitled “KCCK Big Mo News and More.” I blog a fair amount about the Big Mo (John Heim) Blues Show and the Big Mo Pod Show.

Ed says “Always available on the web and the KCCK App, too… ;0)”

I’m not up to speed on emoticons, but I wonder if it means amazement, although about exactly what I’m not sure. I really appreciate hearing from him.

Anyway, it turns out that Ed English is a long time Iowa City blues music scene guy and he’s part of The Beaker Brothers Band.

Ed (informally known as Uncle Ed) also started the Tanya English Band. Ed and Tanya are married.

I listen to the Big Mo Blues Show every Friday night. When he does the part of his show called The Shout Outs, he mentions Dr. Tanya, healing with the blues. I suspect a lot of the Shout Outs are to local blues musicians, many of them known by nicknames—I think.

I’m honored to get a nod and a wink from Uncle Ed. Now, can we talk about my MayRee’s Hand Battered Catfish tee shirt design?

Big Mo Pod Show: “Spiritual IV”

I’m trying to figure out what the meaning of the title is of this week’s Big Mo Pod Show. It’s “Spiritual IV” and I looked at all of his past pod shows looking for Spiritual I-III. I can’t find them.

The other thing I noticed about the pod show is that the theme of many of last night’s songs is less about spirituality and more about carnality and brutality. Now, that doesn’t mean I’m preaching. I just wonder if the title “Spiritual IV” is ironic.

Take the song “Talk to Me Baby” by Elmore James, or “44 Blues” by Little Arthur Duncan. One song that didn’t make the pod show list was “The Circus is Still in Town (The Monkey Song)” by Rick Estrin and the Nightcats. And Buddy Guy sang his new song “Been There Done That,” meaning he’s been to hell and back. He’s 89 years old and still does gritty blues. The music often seems only about sex, violence and drug addiction.

And the discussion gravitated to guns, specifically the .44 caliber handgun. I never knew Muddy Waters carried a gun. Hey, even Big Mo owns a .44. I didn’t make that up; he said so. It weighs about 7 pounds, by the way.

This morning’s pod show is a reminder that a lot of blues music sounds more earthy than spiritual. However, you can usually find at least one spiritual note letting in a little ray of hope. One of the songs featured in the pod show is Sugaray Rayford’s “How the Other Half Lives.” One line seems to offset the misery and injustice in the rest of the lyrics: “Take it slow, find the flow.”

I’m going to put my nickel down on one of last night’s songs that didn’t make to to the pod show list and it’s “Don’t Wanna Go Home” by Eric Gales, featuring Joe Bonamassa. It’s not spiritual. It’s about having a good time—but notice, he paid all of his bills first.

Big Mo Pod Show: The Yellow Butane Curse and Other Fun Things

I got off my schedule last week on listening to the Big Mo blues show, but as it turns out, he was gone last Friday. I heard last night’s blues show and heard Stevie Ray Vaughn’s Riviera Paradise.

So, of course that was not on the list of songs for the pod show today, but Big Mo did mention that Riviera Paradise and the name of the collection, which was In Step was related to Stevie Ray Vaughn’s having been successful at staying sober from substance use disorder for a year. The name In Step was evidently related to his going through a 12-step program to achieve sobriety. I learned about Stevie Ray Vaughn early in my residency (if I recall correctly) from a University of Iowa psychiatrist who is now the chair of the psychiatry department.

Big Mo Pod Show 072 – “The Yellow Butane Curse”

The name of today’s pod show was “The Yellow Butane Curse” which is about superstition. I’m not sure if this means that blues music enthusiasts are prone to being superstitious, but Big Mo did admit to believing that yellow butane lighters were unlucky for him.

This is probably going to seem like a disconnected transition but I missed last week’s pod show (“He plays what can’t be written down” see below), which was not the usual format of song talk but an interview with a successful local musician, Merrill Miller. I don’t know anything about him except what I learned in the podcast. I got a kick out of listening to a couple of musicians just more or less shooting the breeze about living the musician’s life.

Merrill mentioned playing in places like Strawberry Point, Iowa. I don’t have a musical connection to Strawberry Point, and I never went anywhere there that was connected with music like Merrill did. In fact, the only reason I was in Strawberry Point was because I was part of a survey crew staking Highway 13 between there and Elkader to straighten out some of the many curves in the road. We didn’t have much time to listen to music.

One piece of Iowa history they talked about was the issue of black musicians not being able to find a place to stay in this area because of racism. They had to find somebody they knew who would put them up while they were in town for a gig. Funny where a rambling, relaxed conversation will sometimes lead you.

I had few connections to music while I was growing up. My mother tried to teach my little brother and I how to play piano. It was an old out of tune piano. I managed to learn where the “middle C note” was—and that’s about all I recall about it. I took guitar lessons and got pretty good at making buzzing notes with it. Man, I could make that guitar buzz, although my teacher got a good laugh out of it—and couldn’t get me to break the habit. I could blow into a harmonica (what real musicians like Merrill and Big Mo call a harp), but I couldn’t kidnap any notes out of it. I tried picking notes on a banjo for a short while, had a second stab at the guitar, and got not much more than callouses on my fingers before moving on to non-music making careers.

You can be glad about that. Now about that suggestion that I have for a tee shirt design about my favorite faux sponsor created by Big Mo, Mayree of the legendary Mayree’s hand battered catfish; it’s better because it’s battered. I wonder if there’s any movement on that.

The Big Mo Pod Show: “In the Pocket”

Here’s something fun, try to explain what the phrase “in the pocket” means. The song selections in the pod show led up to a short discussion of what it means—which I didn’t get at all. I don’t think it matters for the ordinary listeners, although former music teachers like Big Mo obviously know what the term means. He taught music for years, has performed, and uses the lingo to explain what “in the pocket” is all about. It’s way over my head, but then I don’t need to know anything about it to enjoy music.

Big Mo Pod Show 070 – “In The Pocket”

I tried to look up the meaning of the terms “in the pocket” on the web. I took a quick look at a website called Sage Audio. The title is “What is In-the-Pocket for Music?” I couldn’t find the author’s name because I didn’t see a byline. It’s very long and technical and seems geared for sound engineers. One sentence by the writer caught my attention under the heading “What is In-the-Pocket for Music in Detail”:

“It isn’t uncommon to hear a music term and wonder what it means exactly. Becoming well versed in music means understanding its discourse, which can certainly be easier said than done.”

Here’s how far out in left field I am. Depending on how I read that, I’d almost recast the last part of that sentence: “…which can certainly be easier done than said.” I realize the sense of it is that becoming adept in making music means understanding the lingo. I just don’t understand the lingo, which makes me wonder if musicians have some kind of inner body sense for timing in music as it’s performed which may not readily translate to language for the layperson.

I was like a lot of other students in junior high music class. We were pretty good at whispering or half-mumbling the songs we were supposed learn to sing out loud. That really annoyed the music teacher. I don’t know if Big Mo can relate to that or not. We were supposed to learn the song “Sloop John B.” I’m not sure if we were doing the Beach Boys version or the original “The John B. Sails.”

It hardly mattered. We sounded like we ate up all the corn and held it in our mouths while mumbling. We just stuck our hands in our pockets, moaned the words, and were never in the groove. I don’t think a metronome helped. In fact, I’m not sure there was a metronome.

I have to mention that I probably was too young to know that the song by Little Ed and the Blues Imperials, “Walking the Dog,” was about a kind of dance. I never danced although most of the dancing kids on American Bandstand had the same answer to Dick Clark’s question on what they liked about the song—it was always “the beat.” I guess they knew that meant the number was “in the pocket.”