blues music – Page 2 – Go Retire Psychiatrist

Big Mo Pod Show: “Blues: The Universal Mixer”

We listened to the Big Mo Pod Show (Sena stuck with it for about the first hour anyway) last night and then I got a mini-education in the forms of music, at least, as it relates to timing and rhythm. The theme was “Blues: The Universal Mixer.” Frequently, the blues show and the podcast remind me of previous eras in my life and lead to a few free associations.

The 5 songs reviewed by Big Mo and Noah are probably recognizable to many listeners. As usual, I have to search for the lyrics because I seem to have an inborn tendency to hearing mondegreens. And as usual, I don’t always pay the most attention to the songs chosen for the podcast.

But Big Mo did a little teaching session about rhythm forms, which he related to a couple of songs on the list. One of them was “Wait on Time” by The Fabulous Thunderbirds. I happened to notice that a couple of lines in the lyrics of “Wait on Time” reminded me of another artist who didn’t make it to the list on the podcast but was on the blues show playlist last night. That was Junior Walker and the All Stars. Their song “I’m a Road Runner” was one of my favorites because it reminded me of how I ran all over the hospital as a consult psychiatrist. But I can’t relate to the song as a whole.

The lines the two songs share are:

“Wait on Time” lyrics:

“Well, I live the life I love
And I love the life I live
The life I live baby
Is all I have to give”

“I’m a Road Runner” lyrics:

“And I live the life I love
And I’m gonna love the life I live
Yes, I’m a roadrunner, baby.”

Although the lyrics are similar, the themes are different. The guy in the song “Wait On Time” is promising he’ll get back to his lover someday. On the other hand, in the “I’m a Road Runner” lyrics, that guy is making no such promise and is actually is saying just the opposite.

Big Mo pointed out that there is a common rhythmic form in blues that easily mix with other forms of music, including Latin forms (I don’t understand that music lingo but I think I hear and feel what he means). He mentions that Bo Diddley mixed certain rhythms like that into his music, which surprised me because I didn’t know that. It may be why I like Bo Diddley.

Big Mo didn’t play “I’m a Road Runner” last night but played another hit from Junior Walker and the All Stars: “Ain’t That The Truth.” Just an aside, that tune is mostly instrumental and has a total of only 4 lines apparently, which express a common blues sentiment about relationships:

“Say man, what’s wrong with you?
Oh man, my woman done left me
Say it, man, play me some blues, jack
Get it, baby
Ain’t that the truth”

Several artists covered “I’m a Road Runner” including but not limited to the Grateful Dead and Steppenwolf. Bo Diddley did a song called “Road Runner” but it was not the Junior Walker tune. There’s a YouTube video relating it to the cartoon Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote.

I’m not a roadrunner by any definition, but I learn a little something new just about every time I hear the Big Mo Pod Show.

The Big Mo Pod Show 043 All Dem Christmas Favorites

We listened to the Christmas tunes on the KCCK Big Mo Blues Show last night, “All Dem Christmas Favorites.” We both liked Earth Kitt’s “Santa Baby,” which wasn’t on the podcast list, but what the heck. I got a kick out of Brave Combo’s silly rendition of “O Holy Night.” Fareed Haque’s guitar solo of “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” was pretty impressive.

That Donut Song by Washboard Sam

I got a kick out of a song by Catfish Keith last night on the Big Mo Blues Show on KCCK radio. It was “Who Pumped the Wind in My Doughnut.” He always sings songs with lyrics that I mostly don’t understand and that was one of them, at first. I’ll give you a hint; it’s not a Christmas tune. Catfish Keith covers some old-time blues songs and this one is for adults only.

Judging from the title of the song and some of the lyrics, you might guess it’s about doughnuts but it’s not. Don’t bother with the Artificial Intelligence (AI) description, which I did not ask for. AI just pops up in a web search whether you want it to or not:

“Who pumped the wind in my doughnut” is a playful, nonsensical phrase meaning someone has exaggerated or inflated a situation or story to make it seem much bigger than it really is; essentially, they’ve added unnecessary drama or hype to something, like adding air to a doughnut to make it appear larger.”

Once again, we see that AI makes stuff up as it goes along, creating a little story which is really concrete and far from the truth about something for which it was not programmed—to process language that is not literal but a form of humor riddled with innuendo to express something about sexual infidelity, in this case resulting in a lot of children which don’t resemble the singer because they aren’t his.

Anyway, I found a little background on the song which was originally performed by a guy called Washboard Sam (born Robert Clifford Brown). He was a blues artist in the 1930s. He performed “Who Pumped the Hole in My Doughnut” under the name Ham Gravy. I found a reference which says that Washboard Sam performed it and Robert Brown wrote it. And I found another which shows a picture of the actual record which has the name Johnny Wilson on it with the name Ham Gravy just below it. I don’t know whether Johnny Wilson was just another pseudonym. You can find the lyrics of the song identifying it as being by “Washboard Sam via Johnny Wilson.”

You can find a mini-biography about Robert Brown on, of all things, a WordPress blog called The Fried Dough Ho. It has a fair number of posts about doughnuts too. The author knows the song is not about doughnuts. There are also some pretty comical impressions in a blog post entitled “What is he talking about?” regarding the meaning of the lyrics of the song on a Blogger site called The things I think about, when I wish I were sleeping. One of the comments is fairly recent, from 2023. You can also find a Wikipedia biography.

You may never feel the same about doughnuts.

Thoughts on The Big Mo Podcast 033: “A Balance of Old and New”

This is just a short piece on the Big Mo Podcast last Friday night and his comments about one of the songs he played that night. It made the list of 5 songs he and Producer Noah discussed a couple days later.

Big Mo’s had great comments about all the songs, but I took special notice of those about one of them. It was James Carr’s big hit in 1966, “Dark End of the Street.”

The most important thing about it is that I remember listening to it when I was just a kid. I was too young to understand the meaning of it. But his voice grabbed me. That’s really the only thing I can say about it. His performance still has the power to raise the hair on the back of my neck, even though I can’t identify with the lyrics or connect the theme to any life experience I’ve had. I suspect many people feel the same way.

The other reason I connect with the song other than Carr’s voice is his life story. He was said to have suffered from a psychiatric illness, the nature of which seems like it was never clearly identified. I’ve read a few web articles and terms like “bipolar disorder,” “depression,” and other similar references come up. His psychiatric diagnosis is the least important thing.

Carr’s life story is hard to read, despite what little there is of it to read about. It’s painful. The version on the Black Past website encapsulates what you find in several other articles: Tulino, D. (2018, February 21). James E. Carr (1942-2001). BlackPast.org. https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/carr-james-e-1942-2001/.

But to get the real point about James Carr, all you have to do is listen to that one song, “Dark End of the Street.”

Thoughts on the Big Mo Pod Show “Funkin’ Down the Highway”

This is a post about the Big Mo Pod Show we heard last night on the KCCK FM radio dial 106.9. Incidentally, the KCCK fund drive was enormously successful this year, earning $100,000 in donations, according to Big Mo (aka John Heim) himself.

One item is the cover by Buddy Miles of the song “Tobacco Road.” This rendition was different from performances by other artists. Big Mo liked it and so did I. I did a little web search on it because I couldn’t catch all the lyrics. It was originally done by John D. Loudermilk in 1960. Miles’ version is essentially the same.

What interested me even more about “Tobacco Road” are the associations I have about it with specific literary works. I’ll admit I’ve never read nor seen the film adaptations of Erskine Caldwell’s books, “Tobacco Road” and “God’s Little Acre.” But one of my favorite short stories by James Thurber is “Bateman Comes Home,” which was published in a collection entitled “The Thurber Carnival,” in a hardcover edition in 1945. You’ve got to read it to get a sense of how comical the parody is of the regional dialect used in Caldwell’s novels. In fact, Thurber himself gives the game away about his intent in writing “Bateman Comes Home” by adding a wry comment as a subtitle:

Written after reading several recent novels about the deep south and confusing them a little—as the novelists themselves do—with “Tobacco Road” and “God’s Little Acre.”

He also adds another comment at the end of the short story: “If you keep on long enough it turns into a novel.”

The other thing I noticed about the podcast last night is that one of the songs which was not included in the list, “Joliet Bound,” was performed by an artist I haven’t heard of, the Reverend Shawn Amos, who is no relation to me, of course. But my background as a psychiatrist made me take special notice of details about his family, one of which is that his mother, Shirl-ee Ellis, a singer herself, had been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. Sadly, she eventually died by suicide. Shawn Amos is also the youngest son of the Famous Amos chocolate chip cookie founder, Wally Amos (again, no relation), although I’ve gotten a lot of friendly ribbing about that.

The song “Joliet Bound” is about a guy who expresses that he’s wrongly accused of killing a man over a woman and is on his way to Joliet prison in Joliet, Illinois. The Joliet Prison is a tourist destination nowadays and has other distinctions attached to it. It was featured in the 1980 film, the Blues Brothers. There were some famous inmates there, among them John Wayne Gacy, who was once evaluated and diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder by psychiatrists at The University of Iowa in 1968 as described in Dr. Donald Black’s book, “Bad Boys, Bad Men: Confronting Antisocial Personality Disorder (Sociopathy).”

Congratulations KCCK Radio!

Notes on the Blues and Rivers of Whiskey

I listened to the Big Mo Blues Show last night on KCCK radio (88.3 on your dial) as I usually do on Friday nights. It runs from 6:00 pm to 9:00 pm and you can learn a lot from Big Mo (aka John Heim) about the blues.

He also has a podcast called the Big Mo Pod Show, which is based on his blues show. He gets quizzed about some of the songs he played on Friday night by Producer Noah (as Big Mo calls him). Last night he was on target for all 5 of the songs he played and why he played them.

One of the songs I’ve never heard before but it was done by Taj Mahal and Keb Mo, artists I’m familiar with just from listening to Big Mo’s show. The title was “Diving Duck Blues. The chorus goes “If the river was whiskey and I was a diving duck, I’d dive to the bottom and I’d never come up.”

That led to a discussion of how alcoholism was sometimes (maybe more than sometimes) a part of the life of blues musicians. In fact, the lead off song last night was “Big Road Blues,” sung by Tommy Johnson. His last name just happens to be the same as Robert Johnson who made the song “Crossroads” famous because he claimed he sold his soul to the devil in order to become a great blues musician. Several blues artists made the claim, which Big Mo debunked as a ruse to get fans to pay more money to hear them perform.

But Tommy Johnson struggled with alcoholism and, according to Big Mo, was driven to the point of drinking Sterno, which was poisonous because it contained methyl alcohol.

This can lead you to think that maybe all blues music is gritty, played by alcoholics, and even depressing as declared by the lead character, Navin Johnson, played by Steve Martin in the movie “The Jerk” (a white guy raised by a black family).

Incidentally, this reminds me that a recent study showing that digital cognitive behavioral therapy is effective for those suffering from alcohol use disorder.

Anyway, blues musicians don’t always play sad, gritty music and die from drinking Sterno. One that is actually funny is “You Left the Water Running” by Otis Redding. You can look up the lyrics or listen to anyone who covers the song and it would be difficult not to laugh out loud.

And speaking of covering a song, Bill Withers originally wrote and sang “Lean on Me” back in 1972 which Keb Mo covered recently. I think it’s one of those uplifting examples of blues music which won’t send you diving to the bottom of any whiskey rivers.

Big Mo Pod Show: “Absorbing Influences”

I listened to the Big Mo Blues Show last Friday night on June 21, 2024 and wouldn’t you know, he was recorded. He wasn’t there live that night but as usual he put on a great show of blues music.

And I listened to the Big Mo Pod Show a few days later, and the theme was Absorbing Influences. Very thought provoking. The choice of tunes was interesting and Big Mo pretty much got them all identified. He usually does.

I can’t remember all the tunes he played on June 21^st, but as usual, I had a different perspective about the selection for the podcast. I think I heard a Catfish Keith number on the Big Mo Blues Show, which I can’t remember too well and furthermore, don’t quite understand. It was “I Don’t Know Right from Wrong.”

And I’ll throw you another curve. That’s not the number I want to talk about in terms of the absorbing influence theme. Briefly, it just means that many blues artists get influenced by a musician they really like, pick up on what they learn from a song and gradually make it their own.

I think Catfish Keith was influenced by Son House, who sang a song called “A True Friend is Hard to Find.” Catfish Keith absorbed the music, and did his own version which I recently heard. I think it’s a gospel number. Memorable lines include:

“Bear this in mind, a true friend is hard to find.”

It’s true. You have a real treasure if you ever find one.

Big Mo Blues Show Podcast: “Chromatic Rock”

I caught the Big Mo Blues Show June 14^th last Friday night. And I also caught the Big Mo Pod Show as well. Produce Noah got the month wrong for some odd reason. He said it was May 14^th. Let it go. Anybody can be temporally impaired from time to time, including me.

Anyway, the theme of the podcast was “Chromatic Rock,” which I gather applies mainly to harmonicas in this context. But in a more general sense, I think it means adding more color to music, mainly by variation in notes. The specific artist in the podcast was somebody I’ve not heard of by the name of Sugar Blue. He blew a tune on the harmonica called “Krystalline,” which is some kind of cocaine.

Big Mo got most of the items in the quiz. He always does pretty well, because of his encyclopedic knowledge about music. His memory is really strong. I bet he even knew what month it is.

Well, here comes my selection from last Friday’s Big Mo Blues Show, a number called “Plain Old Common Sense,” performed by Kenny Neal. Common sense is pretty important. It can keep your head above water and clear of cocaine.

Thoughts on the Big Mo Pod Show: Theme “Music Changes Context”

I heard the Big Mo Pod Show, which relates to the quiz about 5 songs he played on the Big Mo Blues Show last Friday night. He got all the artists right, just missed 3 song titles!

I had a couple of thoughts about the song lineup related to the theme “Music Changes Context.” Actually, the point was that one of the songs had what might have made some people mad. It was “Funky B***h.” The idea was that some words might be offensive if you say them, but when words are sung, that might make them not offensive, in a way. It’s a matter of opinion.

How that happens is not clear. Big Mo’s example of it was in a historical context related to slavery. Slaves could not say certain words while they were working in the fields. But the overseer would let them get away with if they used the words in a song.

I heard one song that was not part of the Big Mo Pod show that might put a different spin on the idea of how music changes context. It’s about brotherly love, in a manner of speaking—or in a manner of singing, I should say.

Big Mo Pod Show Theme: Subverting Expectations

I want to give a shout out to the Big Mo Pod Show Subverting Expectations that aired on May 11, 2024 following the Friday Big Mo Blues Show on May 10, 2024.

What impressed me most and puzzled me a lot was the tune that Big Mo didn’t talk about on the podcast. The tune was a dazzling guitar performance called “Hot Fingers” by a duo called Lonnie Johnson and Blind Willie Dunn. Big Mo said it was recorded in the 1920s.

I looked for a video of it and could find several with the picture of what looked like a Caucasian guitarist and nobody else. I also saw one picture with the Caucasian guitarist and what looked like a cut-and-pasted photo of a black guitarist.

Because I couldn’t tell who was who, I googled their names. It turns out that Lonnie Johnson was a well-known blues guitarist. He was black. Lonnie Johnson recorded “Hot Fingers” with another famous jazz guitarist named Eddie Lang, who was white. Eddie Lang used the alias of Blind Willie Dunn in order to hide his race while performing with Lonnie Johnson. I’m not sure how Eddie Lang could pass for black, an interesting twist in the late 1920s. I’m not saying either was racist. Why would they have performed together if they were? And why would Eddie Lang have adopted the black-sounding pseudonym?

So that brings me back to the title of the Big Mo Pod Show which was Subverting Expectations. The expectation that gets subverted had to do with a tune I don’t remember hearing on Friday night. It was “That Lovin’ Thang,” by the group Tas Cru, with which I’m unfamiliar. Big Mo remarked that you could listen to the blues as played by Tas Cru with an expectation that they were going to make mistakes in their performance—which never happened, attesting to their talent.

On the other hand, it strikes me that the story behind Lonnie Johnson and Blind Willie Dunn (Eddie Lang) does create its own sort of subverted expectation, in a different sense. I know Blues music experts already knew that, but it was news to me.