Check him out now, the funk soul brother

If a sour mash of Alabama 3, Johnny Cash, Son of Dave, hip-hop, dub and fried green tomatoes was used for a whole new ass-kicking brew, the label would read Dave Ferguson’s Lucky No.7 Straight Bourbon Whiskey.

In our interview with The Mountain Of Love, reference was made to a New Blues music pioneered by R.L. Burnside and Little Axe in the 1980′s and 90′s. Here sequencing, sampling, dub and heavy dance beats were bulldozing the conventions of the blues.

Yet amidst the radicalism, two unalienables remained. The pathos of the slide guitar and anguish of the blues harp. Dave Ferguson is the latest settler in this new blues Heimat and an important exponent of the latter. What he does, he does extremely well. He also tackles it single-handedly. We dropped into Cape Town to check out the Lonesome Whistle Blower of New Blues.

Going down slow

You can find the official take on Dave Ferguson’s work at his own website and at his sponsor’s site Seydel Sohne. But this little piggy, The Good Doctor, went to market and he was brokering the inside story.

Cue Sunday lunchtime at La Vie bar in Cape Town, Murray Hunter (Harp Surgery’s now graduated Apprentice), an intimate table and two bottles of Peroni..

Tell us about Dave Ferguson’s connection with Son Of Dave

Dave Ferguson (DF) has been playing since he was about 17. He has travelled the world. He lived in London for about 10 years and he took an extended road trip to the United States where he learned his trade. While he was in London, he was playing as a regular front man in standard 4 and 5 piece blues bands, but he knew Son Of Dave (Benjamin Darvill/SoD). He was a friend of SoD’s who was already doing the beat boxing thing. I think DF set up a few mics for him – that’s how they knew each other.

So did they meet in the UK or America?

In the UK. DF was travelling the States for a while and then settled in London for about 10 years. During that time he met SoD and picked up some of SoD’s tricks before returning to South Africa (SA) a couple of years ago, when he started using the same stuff.

People say one of two things. Either DF learned what he does at the feet of SoD – this is not strictly true because he only started doing it once he was on his home turf, or he stole what SoD did – which is also not true (although I must admit I might have intimated that once myself).

Everywhere I’ve seen him interviewed, DF attributes the origins of his scheme to Benjamin Darvill right up front; it’s even on his own web site. He says I picked this up off SoD. But he’s expanded on it a great deal because, frankly, he’s technically a more gifted harmonica player. SoD succeeds in what he does through building on the swing and swagger, whereas DF has a masterful command of the instrument – something SoD’s sound either doesn’t have or doesn’t particularly need.

You mentioned that Dave is a full time musician here in SA

He is a graphic designer by training and was working as a sound engineer in London. But once he got back to SA he found it easier to get gigs than a new job, so naturally he went where the work was. And I got a strong sense that his one man thing, by way of the looping pedals and beat boxing, means there is nobody he needs to split the revenue with, but also he can play in all kind of venues where you could never fit a 4 or 5 piece band. He plays these little, intimate places that afford him a whole level of freedom he never had when he was with a band.

How did you first meet Dave?

When I was living in Cape Town as a student around 2005-06, I was interested in taking up the harmonica, had given it a few toots but didn’t really know what the landscape was. I went to a Johnny Cash tribute evening and Dave was in one of the bands that played. In fact he was actually playing when I walked in. I saw this guy in cowboy boots, probably in a cowboy hat, singing into one of those old microphones, and I thought, ‘Oh my God, this is so kitsch, so cheesy, like some Beverly Hillbilly!’.

But then I listened for a few seconds and what he was playing knocked me dead. His sound just grabbed me and I thought to myself ‘This is something impressive’.

He’s a fantastic player, he really is. I’ve heard him in other permutations, not just this one-man beat boxing stuff, when he was playing in an eight piece bluegrass band and he slots in as a sideman just so eloquently and so tastefully. He is the real deal.

I must admit that when I found out that his sound came from another person, and I started listening to SoD, I rather uncharitably thought of DF as an imitation. It took a few years when I went away to London myself, listened to SoD, developed my own understanding of the instrument and my own ear, and then came back to SA before I realised DF not only plays like Son Of Dave, but also like a son of a bitch!

I’ve seen a clip on YouTube where he drops in the head from Folsom Prison Blues or something similar..

Exactly. It probably was Folsom Prison Blues. He blends all kind of influences into his songs. I think he was playing Low Rider, which he probably picked up off SoD – he does a great version of Low Rider.

So does Dave comprise the entire live harmonica scene in Cape Town?

Certainly he’s the only professional level player that I know of here. I know a few more people who are at my level, you know, the kind of intermediates and I know loads of people who try hard, but to my knowledge DF is the only professional player and he is a world ranking man. I mean Lee Sankey, who doesn’t give praise lightly, has said to me that Dave’s a top notch player.

Lee talks about folks who not only play well but are also somehow naturally gifted..

Well you can hear it with DF. He really does some wild stuff for someone who is essentially playing over a one chord vamp all the time. He doesn’t really do changes because he can’t on his loop pedal. But he plays some wild stuff and it’s fun – that’s the main thing. It’s technically proficient, but it’s really fun, hip music.

DF lays down the rhythm first by beatboxing into a loop pedal. He than lays down the bass line by carefully playing harmonica through an octave pedal. Then he’s good to go. Vocalising through his Astatic harp mic, adding shakers to the loop and manipulating the sounds through adjustments to his pedal board. Vamps and phrases from his harp are augmented by his technical ability as a player, including proficiency in overblows and overdraws.

And even without an old tube amp, he still nails that killer tone. This is executed in part by excellent tongue blocking technique, but also by the overdriven valves which are substituted by a Harp Attack pedal.

When the beat starts popping you’re the first on the floor

The Doc and Murray turned their attention to the fabulous grooves eminating from DF’s corner of the bar. Cape chicks and beach dudes lapped up the vibes. DF granted one birthday party’s special request and performed White Girl. The song is gently mesmerising. You could be forgiven for thinking it was written by Shaggy, or perhaps Clint Eastwood & General Saint. But it’s all self-penned classic. Dave continued weaving his way through Funk Soul Brother, Low Rider, Howlin’ For My Darlin’ and more.

Trance-blues, & Country-dub and advancement of the harmonica

DF has perfected the alchemy of beat-box and looped harmonica and categorised the result trance-blues and country-dub. Which is just about right. It’s cool, it puts a smile on your face, it roots you to the spot and it resonates below the belt.

As important however, are the references Dave makes to the advancement of the harmonica. This is Harpboxing (the fusion of harp and beatbox).

In our recent post Harping In Havana, we discovered the thrill of playing salsa music on the diatonic harmonica. We also said while Latin grooves feature strongly in rhythm and blues, the reverse is apparently not true in Cuba. 

Wherever you travel on the island, those infectious Cuban rhythms are omnipresent; even in the simplest peel of claves from a street vendor. Conversely, the only shuffle you’ll catch is from coveted chess boards in shady doorways.

But all this raises further questions. Do resident Cubans actually play or even like blues music? If so, where can it be found? Wouldn’t the style’s inextricable link with Americana have forced it deep underground, or else triggered its complete eradication under state censorship? And most importantly for the Harp Surgery, does the humble blues harmonica have a home in Cuba? We packed our bags and went in search of some answers.

Boogaloo

If the blue does exist in Cuba, you would assume it is a minority interest. Or else it has adopted Latin colours for geographical, if not commercial, survival. But what is the real picture?

A brief internet search of blues in Cuba brings up the link to a vibrant website called Sociedad Habana Blues (Havana Blues Society). You might imagine this is the home of a special interest organisation on the island. And in a sense it is.

But while it promotes blues music - largely through it’s associated radio show - it is primarily the roost for a working blues band of the same name. The site’s editor is the band leader and blues DJ, Migue de Oca (above). We met up with Migue in the centre of Old Havana.

La Esquina Del Blues

Six years ago Migue started broadcasting La Esquina Del Blues (The Blues Corner), a radio show promoting blues from around the world. 

Which is why his weekly selections are not exclusively in the English language. The programme is broadcast not only on national radio, but also to the rest of the world via the internet. It goes out for one hour every Sunday at 9pm Cuban time on Habana Radio. 

I have broadcast blues by some really great bands from places like the Basque Country in Spain and from Hungary, Migue explained. They sing some songs in English, but more usually in their mother tongue.  

This November we celebrate our sixth anniversary. For the show’s very first anniversary, I featured a band from Hungary called Locomotiv GT, (normally shortened to LGT). They have had a big influence on my own music and the music of the band. [Jack Bruce played harmonica on their album Locomotiv GT..Ed]

Good mornin’ blues, blues how do you do?

We asked Migue why, amidst such a rich culture of Latin music, he fell in love with blues music. I grew up with my brothers during the Rock and Roll explosion of the 1960′s. In Cuba at that time, rock music was considered counter-revolutionary. It was hard for us, but younger people have a spark of rebellion.

I only started to understand the heritage of Cuban music as I got older. Meanwhile I was desperate to understand the lyrics of bands like The Beatles, Jethro Tull and The Who.

I was born in a small town called Cruces, Cienfuegos Province, in the middle of the island. We had one big turntable there and somebody used to bring back low-quality vinyl LPs from Havana. They didn’t even have labels on them. I think someone found some old American machinery and started reproducing the records in the city. Most of my friends didn’t like black music, but when I heard some BB King I thought it was great.

If I ever get back my blue jeans, Lord how happy could one man be?

Were there penalties for listening to Rock and Roll? In the 60′s there was a short governmental clamp down on hippies, long hair, blue jeans and intelectualism. But it didn’t last long! Through the 70′s however it was still considered inappropriate to listen to American radio stations. Our teachers knew we were secretly tuning-in. They used to hunt us around school!  

Did you have any personal favourites? My tastes evolved. In the late 70′s I listened intently to everything I could. I didn’t play; I just listened. I soon realised that blues was the mother of all the music I really liked. So I investigated it further. I also took up guitar. Then I started the Havana Blues Society (SHB) in the late 80s, with a regular jam session and blues fanzines. The fanzines soon stopped though, because I ran out of money!

You just can’t get harps in Cuba

So how did SHB start? José Antonio from Canada made contact with me originally. He was our first harmonica player. Then came our Bass player from Spain. The three of us started the band. Then an American blues guitarist called Peter Bale joined us. He’d been living in Cuba for several years but I’d never heard of him!

Our drummer, Fito Acosta, was in another band at that time, but as soon as he heard our stuff he jumped ship and  joined SHB. A couple of our demo recordings were played on national radio, but after two or three years everyone moved back to their home countries.

I tried out some other harp players, but in the end I decided to try it myself. Short of equipment, I asked Charlie Musselwhite and other friends if they could send me some harps. Migue took out one of Charlie’s Dannecker blues harps. You just can’t get harps here in Cuba. This one’s broken and I don’t have the tools to fix it. It’s from Denmark I think. We explained the heritage of the Dannecker family and Hohner harmonicas in the UK and are taking Migue’s Dannecker Blues harp back to England for maintenance.  

Does the band play regularly? We recently took an official government audition to become a licenced professional band. They compile a dossier about the band, complete with promotional material and present this to the Music Institute. Now we’re waiting for the official rubber stamp to get started. I spoke to them recently and they told me we’re next in line for approval. They were kind of sceptical when the audition started, but by the end they wanted to grab the guitar and join in! 

And who’s currently in the band? There are four of us. I’m on rhythm guitar, vocals and harmonica, Fito Acosta is on drums, José de Zárate from Spain is on bass and Steinar Seland from Norway is on lead guitar and vocals (thank goodness). José and Steinar both married Cuban women and moved to the island a few years ago. 

We rehearse in Steinar’s garage and on the second Friday of every month at 7pm we run a blues jam at a local disused ceramics factory.

But if anyone is visiting Havana, email me at laesquinadelblues@habradio.ohc.cu and we can organise a jam anytime. We also organise a festival in December called Blues del Sur (Blues in the South). This year it is planned for December 17th-19th.

You ain’t seen nothin’ like the Mighty Quinn

Migue talked fondly about one particular native harmonica player. We have a great harp player in Cuba I wish you could meet. His name is Lázaro Morúa. Man he can play anything and he uses some of Howard Levy’s techniques. He’s a real musician. He reads music and can play on any kind of harmonica. He’s not from this planet. Like Carlos del Junco!

Lázaro played with Los Van Van, a world famous Cuban band and toured Europe. His singing range is astonishing and he’s done lectures on all kind of mucial styles and instruments, including the harmonica. He’s even written an unpublished study method for the harmonica has been involved with another famous Cuban jazz orchestra called Irakere.

Migue contacted Lázaro who agreed to meet with us the following day. Sadly he didn’t show up. But Migue wasn’t surprised. He has a Bohemian streak, Migue added, we’ll try again next time you’re in Cuba! Migue played some amateur video footage of a jam session with Lázaro. It was hard to determine how expert his harp playing is, but his voice is certainly redolent of Bobby McFerrin.

Has anyone seen Sylvia?

We’ll bring you more news from Migue, Sociedad Habana Blues and Cuba again very soon. In the meantime show him your friendship by emailing the address above and check out this video of the wonderful Sociedad Habana Blues.  

…So I asked some of our readers if they had any questions for you. Here’s one from Adam Gussow.
SoD: He has a question for me?

Why, he has three questions.
SoD: Get the fuck out of here! Well, hi Adam.

Here’s his first question: do you tongue-block or lip-purse, and does that sort of technical question interest you or bore you?
SoD: Tongue block, now stop boring me.

No, I’m being flippant. I think it’s cool that Adam Gussow guy is asking me a question, cos he’s a super-great player. I found myself kind of high once and watching his little instructional videos and realising just how little I know. You know, the last thing I learned on harmonica was when I was 18 years old from a book. We didn’t have YouTube back then. I’ve never tried to comp my licks off records, it’s only just been playing with bands live or just soaking it up and it finds its way out again. A year ago, a million little warbley things and note scaley noodley stuff, and positions – tons of that stuff that I don’t know. I’m not really a very clever harp player, I do what I do. I mostly play power chords and the occasional little run, but soloing to me is a chore.

Well, you’ve got no one to back you up, right?
SoD: But even if I play with a band it’s a chore. They’ll give me over once maybe twice in a 12-bar progression, and then just please leave me alone, y’know. Don’t look at me anymore because I don’t have very many licks. I really don’t. So a guy like that who can play like hell, I really admire it.

Another reader asks: Did you come to a point in your career as a harp player where you consciously decided to break away from what other players were doing, with your own distinct sound?
SoD: No. I actually didn’t. That’s just how I’ve always played.

I’m interested that you’re not that big on innovation…
SoD: [When it comes to innovation] you just have to judge it musically and sonically and emotionally. Is it doing something new that’s good? The reason that nobody really likes any innovators is that mostly innovators, uh, suck. It creates a bizarre or modern emotion that isn’t timeless. All I’m doing is kind of making it simpler and making it grunt, so I’m not really adding anything modern to it..

Were there any players who inspired your approach? Do you have influences?
SoD: …

Aside from Adam Gussow obviously.
SoD: Hey, I said I was ‘inspired’ one night. I get ‘inspired’ a lot. I’m going to get ‘inspired’ tonight after I do this concert. I don’t know if I had harmonica-playing heroes. When I was young I liked James Cotton, I heard him play at a festival in Winnipeg, Canada. But I don’t think there’s anyone else I found myself copying or sounding like. But you know, lots of heroes I guess.

Do you have to keep the sunglasses on? Is it a chore to have to wear sunglasses at night?
[I have to say, in Son of Dave’s defence, he did offer to take the shades off when I sat down with him. I waived the right. “Just trying to be friendly,” he said.]

SoD: It is a chore! It’s very difficult to wear sunglasses at night. I’m at work so I put on my sunglasses. But if I go out with my granny for tea, I won’t wear those sunglasses indoors at night. But frankly, if you wear sunglasses… I have to sit here and eat, and there are people who came here to see me, and they’ll feel less likely to come up and say things or ask questions. So the sunglasses are definitely self-defence, and it keeps everybody happy.

Some of our readers wanted to know if you were planning a US tour at any time?
SoD: I always plan it and then it doesn’t happen for some reason. I’m busy over here! I don’t tour for months in a row, and to do the states properly you have to go and do at least a month, and then come back and then go back in four or five months and then do another. Every time we think we’re going to do that, something comes in and interrupts that process.

And it’s also just a fucking, it’s just ridiculous there. Isn’t it?

Well, it depends what you mean…
SoD: It’s a ridiculous, ridiculous place. They don’t make things, they buy them. Everything’s made in other parts of the world and shipped there. It’s the first time in humanity that’s happened.[...]Well, they make cars – what else do they make? They don’t make furniture or clothes or tools…

Some of them make harmonicas –
SoD: Some of them do make harmonicas. Well, they design the harmonicas and then they’re made in China [Not exclusively - Ed]. So America’s a very, very weird place. It’s depressing to me in a way, to see so many happy upbeat positive people having to live through these really obvious problems. And it’s not like drought or war, it’s just problems that could be fixed. They don’t make Levi’s jeans in America anymore. It’s just fucking crazy. A country that size, with that huge a population and that much wealth penny-pinching and basically developing the rest of the world. Then watch them grow more and more depressed and religiously fanatic and soulless and bizarre.

And yet aesthetically the music you’re playing is derived from American music. You say you have no influences, which I respect totally, but this is American music you’re playing.
SoD: Well, it was a very different place in the 50s, most of these rhythms and notes and scales and ideas and slang and all of that… and then they started rehashing things in the 60s, 70s, 80s, they started going over the same old ground. Some new movements. Same with the architecture. It’s the decline of an empire. It’s why I moved to England. It gave me a sense of timelessness, or permanence. I’m not going to be something that’s a dying fad. Celebrate something that’s permanent.

So that’s a ‘no’ on the US tour?
SoD: Ha! No, I hope to be going to the United State, entertaining a lot of very nice people in some beautiful places next Autumn. But still not confirmed.

How do you create your song ideas?
SoD: It’s always a rhythm and a hook first. Am I in a jolly mood? Am I in a frisky mood? It’s just like a DJ or if you got a big record collection: if you put on one song, what’s it going to be? Am I in the mood for something that goes boom sikka boomboom sikka? Then I’ll start with that in mind, just start grunting something out. And then lo and behold a hook arrives. Then some power chord riff, and that seems to tell me what kind of thing to shout over top of it. It’s either going to be angry, or sexy, or it’s going to be sad or will it be about drinking? Will it be about taking your kid swimming or something?

About taking your kid swimming? I haven’t heard that one.
SoD: Yeah, there are some rhythms that are, uh, good for that. I just try to avoid the 12-bar blues because, you know, I can’t programme it on my fucking pedal!

And if they create a pedal that’s smart enough to programme multichord songs, will you go back to 12-bar progressions?
SoD: Nah, I’m pretty slow to evolve so I might not even get that pedal even if they invent it. I’ll just keep on doing what I’m doing, which is working.

Was that tough to work out at first and coordinate?
SoD: Each new tune is a bit of a tongue twister. But it’s really not complicated, it came very naturally. I’ve never been interested in beat box for its hiphoppedness. Why would you want to imitate a drum machine? It’s a human imitating a machine? That’s fucking weird.

I prefer it to a machine imitating a human...
SoD: I don’t want to sound exactly like a set of drums either. I want to sound like a human.

Reminds me of Tom Waits’ beatboxing.
SoD: Meh. I was first. I respect what he does but I’m not into it personally. I find his voice a bit challenging to listen to. Very heavily stylised.

That’s kind of the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?
SoD: What? I sing nice and sweetly don’t I? I do! Sometimes.

So who do you hate most in music? Am I allowed to ask that?
SoD: Oh Jesus. Well, it’s got to be one of the big popstars, doesn’t it?

Well, you can hate on the guy playing around the corner in some tiny little bar for thirty years, but that’d be kicking a guy when he’s down. It’s better to hate someone who’s won a Grammy.
SoD: Yeah, that’s right. Some working man, I might not be able to listen to it because I find it so painfully awful but I’m not going to put him down. The one that makes millions and takes awards for cranking out shit, however…
Ooh, what was her name? The person I really hate is Katy Perry: ‘I Kissed A Girl And I Liked It’. Wow, what a cynical piece of shit! Sooo calculated to make money. You know, really: “What can we put in a song that will sell? A little bit of lesbianism! Yeah, that’ll work!”
You know the other thing that makes people go, “Oooh, that’s a bit naughty! I’ll buy it!” is sexy schoolgirls, right? What else is there? Uh, maybe nun-raping. Give it four or five years, they’ll have the nun-raping song. It’ll be a super hit.

Son of Dave’s new album, Shake a Bone, is out now. This is part of the Harp Surgery’s Apprenticeship Blog with Murray.

Son of Dave found his coolness through the only legitimate means available to us skinny white guys: Wearing your granddad’s clothes and a creepy grin, and making bizarre, gut-busting music that goes oomph-a-doomph in the night. The one-man beat-boxing, harmonica-playing phenomenon has a new album coming out on March 22: Shake a Bone. The Harp Surgery’s Apprentice found him in the Blues Kitchen, North London, lurking behind a pair of sunglasses and a huge plate of Tex-Mex. Here’s what he had to say…

[You can also catch the second half of our interview here]

Tell us about the new album.
SoD: I recorded it in Chicago with [Steve] Albini. He’s an engineer, so he gets good sound and doesn’t make any suggestions. He has no opinion about anything. He refuses to give an opinion about the music at all. I could go in there and pee on myself and he’d make it sound… well, he’d record it well. But it would make a terrible record. He doesn’t care about making good records, just sonically good records, you know what I mean? He’s an engineer.

Have you had that privilege with all your albums, being able to make the decisions?
SoD: Yeah. I’d be happy maybe one day to work with some bossy guy. I’ve worked with bossy people before, it’s okay. You know, if they want to take things and move them around and add instruments and bring in back-up singers and make suggestions for how to fix a chorus, we could try that some day. But not right now. Completely selfish for this record.

So take us through the evolution of the Son of Dave sound. From the beginning when you cut out the backing band.
SoD: Well, it hasn’t really evolved. [Giggles and stuffs some food in his mouth.] Went busking because I was tired of making complicated recordings and taking them to wankers in offices. So I went busking, and I figured out in a day that I needed to do the beats with my mouth, so when I got back home I practiced, went out again… people liked it, but I got tired pretty quickly. i couldn’t do it for six or eight hours, so I remembered at home that I had a little cheap pedal in a box somewhere from my big band days. So I hauled that up. And then I laughed myself sick when I heard it, thinking ‘Oh good. I got something to do until I’m really, really old.’ Just the perfect recipe. Like this dip, it’s pretty good. Here, try it.

Don’t mind if I do. So, does gear talk interest you at all?
SoD: [Sounding very uninterested] Yeah, I don’t mind gear talk.

Are you not a gear guy at all?
SoD: I was never really up on it, but forced myself to catch up in the last couple of years. I take a very tiny amp and a DI so the sound man gets two signals – he gets the amp and he gets the clean signal from the DI… and then he can mix the two. You get more lows especially for the bass and beatbox and kick, and get more lows out of the direct signal than you do out of a little amp. Or even a big amp sometimes.

I used to use the bullets and Astatics, but I destroyed probably eight of them. I’ll go to hell for being an antique killer.

So what are you using now?
SoD: I use a really ugly one: Shure beta 57. It’s a very clean, excellent microphone and when you switch up the impedance it’s very very loud… So for any kind of tone you rely on your playing and the amplifier rather than the dirty mic sound. But I’ve been taking the guts out of 57s and, what are they called, Unidynes? I’ve been taking the guts out and trying to put them into bullet shapes, ‘cos the long shape is a pain for the harp player, and doesn’t have a particular look to it. But it screws with the sound. Just don’t bother. It’s hard to get it all out without wrecking it….

I feel kind of sleazy for asking this question, but what kind of harmonicas are you using?
SoD: Sleazy harmonicas! No, I’m using Seydel harmonicas, ‘cos they called me up and they wanted to give me a discount if they could put my name on their bloody website. At least they’re doing they’re homework and they’ve figured out who’s out playing concerts and impressing people with harmonica, whereas the old bloody… I won’t mention any names… you play all over the world and the fucking David Letterman show four times but Hohner never called me, wouldn’t do any kind of deal.

Check out the Harp Surgery’s interview with Jerry Portnoy.

Do you ever see yourself doing the sideman thing again, more traditional-style accompaniment?
SoD: No. No one can afford me. I’d do it for fun. I go into the studio all the time with people, either for friends, a buddy-deal, or the record companies bring me up and pay me.

Is that a matter of convenience?
SoD: It’s a matter of making a living. I have to do it on my own. It’s how I pay the bills. Not many people can afford to tour with a band. I mean, if you go out and you do 30 shows and you’re filling up rooms, you can make a lot of money. But it takes years to get there and you have to put up with a load of sweaty men in a van. I did my time, you know [drags on cigarette]

With Crash Test Dummies, yeah…
SoD: Exactly. There was a few years when I toured with Martina Topley-Bird as a sideman, that was cool. I was in the mood, then, to do it. But they paid well.

And here you’ve cut your overhead considerably as a one-man-band.
SoD: Yeah! If I can go play a gig a week somewhere and bring home £150, then I’m on my way to survival. I did that, and after a few shows I bumped it up and started getting paid 200, 300 quid, and so on and so on. It’s just little slow steps without risking too much. I’m opening for Iggy and the Stooges in France this summer. [Cackles]

Now I hear a message in a lot of your songs, comments about consumer society. The fact that it’s a jungle and we’re all going to get eaten alive someday or another. How much of that is a put-on and how much of it is genuine politics?
SoD: I like your question I guess, but I don’t know if it is politics to say that I don’t like your skinny Vogue models or your plastic crap that you’re trying to sell me. I don’t think of that as political. Well, in a way it is.

Well, in the sense that everything is political…
SoD: Yeah exactly. Well, if there are songs of mine that sound political, I apologise and will take them off the record… In the way that I don’t use any language of politics. I just talk about regular stuff. Try to keep the lyrics very very simple so that morons can understand them.

Well it seems to have worked. I got most of it.
SoD: Ha! Yeah, it’s good time music, it’s night-time music, it’s not for thinking. Leave that up to someone else.

Yeah, it’s a very primal sound. To what extent was it a conscious effort to make something new and break out of old clichés?
SoD: I’m always happy to destroy clichés in music when I’m aware of them, but at the same time I just limited myself to a harmonica and a shaker and a looping pedal so that’s going to dictate that it’s not going to be very complicated music. It’s going to be hooky and rhythmic and funny and sexy or something. So it just makes itself according to the ingredients and my personality. It’s not such a calculated response to any kind of music scene, this shit that they call blues.

Blues is becoming a very popular word these days. The word is, at least. But the problem is when Joe Regular comes into a posh blues club, he says ‘Ooh I don’t have any blues in my collection, I hear that’s cool now,’ and goes and gets a blues record. But they might only have bought one, because it’ll probably suck. They’ll get a BB King Greatest Hits and they’ll like it for a while but then they’ll get sick of guitar solos. Or they’ll get a Stevie Ray Vaughan album or this that and the other. What if they buy an Eric Clapton album? Then it’s over, they’ll never go near blues music again!

Check out the trailer for Son of Dave’s new album, Shake a Bone:

Don’t miss the next instalment of the Harp Surgery’s conversation with Son of Dave. He’ll be telling us more about beat-boxing, debauchery, and why he wears sunglasses at night.

This is part of the Harp Surgery’s Apprenticeship Blog with Murray.

Elwood the Apprentice in conversation with the undisputed harmonica queen of YouTube.

By turns bold as hell and surprisingly self-doubting, Christelle Berthon is one of the most closely watched harmonica players on the web (over 2 million pairs of eyeballs, according to her YouTube stats). She’s a different kind of harmonica hero: instead of gin-soaked juke joints where the smoke hangs low off the ceiling, she found fame playing to jam tracks in front of a web cam at home.

She took time out of her gruelling practice regime to tell us about her decision to dedicate herself to harmonica, and share some insights to her style and influences. And as we soon found out, chasing the dream ain’t easy.

The Good Doctor found himself back in Vegas for the post-Christmas lull. It was strange seeing folks in coats and jackets complaining about the cold in a City that is normally a kiln. But the white tops on the nearby mountains, the absence of crowds and an ill wind blowing through the valley spelt winter in Sin City.

The Doc was in need of something to warm the soul and what better than a Vegas helping of Rod Piazza & The Mighty Flyers? He jumped a cab and rode out from the Strip to the Boulder Station Hotel and waded across the Casino floor to the The Railhead. Standing in line, he was engaged in conversation by Carol, a regular winter migrant from Michigan. Oh I’ve seen Rod Piazza many times. This your first? she quizzed. The Doc nodded and smiled, showing full British reserve. Oh you just wait till he does his walkabout, gets up on the table and Honey starts playing that piano with her toes. The Doc’s grin broadened. Sounds more like the Cirque du Soleil he thought to himself.

Pre-flight briefing

On tour, Rod Piazza & The Mighty Flyers are a blues quartet. Rod plays diatonic and chromatic harp, his wife Honey plays piano and provides backing vocals, Henry Carvajal plays guitar and sings, while Dave Kida anchors the drums.

The first talking point is the band’s missing bass player. This position was held for over thirty years by Bob Stuve (check out his 1999 album Big Noise, featuring ex-Flyers Junior Watson and Alex Schultz on guitar, plus the mighty James ‘Ice Pick’ Harman on harp), however since his departure Honey has provided the bass line from her keyboard. Some of the time she uses regular piano tones, at other times she has a very good synthesised string bass channel. Once she locks into Dave Kida’s kick drum, you forget the shortfall in personnel although visually a bass player would bring greater balance to the stage.

The next point of interest is Henry Carvajal. His musicianship is exceptional. It is utterly faithful to the retro musical genre, beautifully measured and tastefully executed. On occasion, from behind closed eyes, he could be mistaken for T-Bone Walker. Henry’s artistic prowess becomes more evident when you hear him take the lead vocal. He could give Big Joe Turner a run for his money. And when you consider that he was rhythm guitarist for the late, great William Clarke, you’ll understand why this man has impeccable credentials and a big reputation.

All four musicians drive a professional, energetic and rocking performance. None more so than their ‘to die for’ drummer Dave Kida. This guy lives every single song. He’s animated, he swings like a troop of chimps and he chases other drummers up trees.

Chocks away

The Mighty Flyers played two forty-five minute sets commencing shortly after 8pm. First up was Move Outa Here, a Texas shuffle on chromatic harp delivered George Harmonica Smith style. Piazza was mentored by Harmonica Smith in his youth. It was the perfect, good-time intro to the evening, tightly followed up with Somebody Stole My Baby, a juicy Chicago shuffle with an excellent retro feel. Into a stroll next with Little Walter’s Gotta Find My Baby in which Piazza demonstrated his command of the Little Walter style with a great lead break pumping through his gold bullet mic. Bring me a big, big glass of wine was the repeat line of the next number which was played in third position diatonic harp to a swaying Willy Dixon groove.

Exit Rod and Henry, cue Honey and Dave for the first Boogie-Woogie treat of the evening. This is not something you get to see very often, least of all with a female piano player. So credits all round. The delivery was made with a big dose of showbiz – piano stool kicked back, huge smiles and top end tinkling – and momentarily felt schmalzy, but what the heck. It was worth it simply to witness the dynamics of Dave’s fabulous drumming and marvel at Honey’s stamina. No bass player in the band remember, so she’s holding down that left hand for the entire evening. With Rod and Henry’s return to the stage, the band eased into a gentle rocking blues Oh Sugar, complete with T-Bone Walker guitar licks , third position harping and a beautiful fade out.

If I Quit My Baby, was a slow blues played on a long chromatic. From the rich tone and the sharp look of the harp, the wise money was on a Hering 64. As the applause ebbed, Henry took the lead vocal and chopped his way into another T-Bone style number, Ain’t No Jumping Baby Since You Been Gone. His vocals were once again reminiscent of Big Joe Turner and the number had that classic retro, jump-blues feel. The Railhead has plenty of dance floor and, as Henry sang his heart out, the audience were not shy in stepping up. A heavier, funkier groove followed with more chromatic. It was slightly too wide a departure from where the Flyers work best and to be brutally honest, they should drop this one from their set.

I Be Your Man One Day had touches of Junior Wells about it and was similar to a Magic Sam‘s I Just Want A Little Bit. The bass line and stop-start riff were the same at least, made even more interesting when the band briefly moved into a New Orleans rumba. The final number in the first set was a harmonica boogie show-stopper. Big second position intro and flat out until the drummer and guitarist peeled off into the wings leaving Rod and Honey to duet for a spell. Then Honey vacated the stage as Rod strolled into the audience, climbed on a table at the back of the room and gave the people exactly what they’d come for. The band returned for the big outro, by which time Honey was playing the keys with both hands and one foot, Rod was harping up a typhoon, Dave’s arms were a blur and Henry looked just as cool as ever. Carol had been spot on with her prognosis.

Mid-flight banter

During the break the Doc snatched a chance to briefly chat with Rod (who always mixes it with his audience at half time, if only to close a few CD sales). The questions are basic, but bear in mind it was 5am at home and the Doc was feeling it. And talking to someone who’s been staring at you from an album cover for the past twenty years is always a weird experience.

• HS: Is that your amp – the big orange beast over there?
• RP: Yes it is.
• HS: What kind of amp is that?
• RP: Harp King.
• HS: How many speakers?
• RP: Six 10′s.
• HS: It’s a wicked sound. What kind of harmonicas due you tend to use?
• RP: Hering predominantly.
• HS: And your harp mic – is that an Astatic?
• RP: Yeah. It’s my own model of the Astatic. I kind of hot-rodded it years ago, way back, but they don’t make ‘em no more. I was the one who originally hot-rodded that mic. Then Hohner put out the Bluesblaster – they tried to copy it. They didn’t want to pay me a royalty, so I told ‘em backwards. So they made it backwards!
• HS: What about your 64 chromatic, is that a Hering too?
• RP: Hering yeah. That’s the best chromatic.
• HS: I recognised the tone.
• RP: That stays in tune so long, you can mistreat it and it doesn’t lose its tone.
• HS: You’re playing as a four piece. Where is the bass coming from – is that all from the keyboard?
• RP: Yeah.
• HS: So you regularly go out as a four piece?
• RP: I’ve got two tenor players that play with me at home. And when I have a big festival they play with me. But it’s always two tenors or a four piece.
• HS: Could you give me a name check on your drummer and guitarist tonight?
• RP: Yeah it’s Dave Kida on drums and Henry Carvajal on guitar.
• HS: And how long have those guys been playing with you now?
• RP: Henry about eight years and Dave Kida about three or four.
• HS: Thank you.
• RP: Stick around I’m gonna get with it on the next set!

Top of descent and clear to land

So had the show resembled the Cirque du Soleil? With Dave Kida’s energetic drumming, Rod Piazza’s tabletop promenade and Honey’s footwork on the keys… possibly. But the Doc closed his eyes and shut out the animation just for a minute. What was that? His feet were tapping under his stool and his backside was rolling in his seat; this was Musique du Paradis! He had heard one or two asides from the floor that after a handful of gigs, the show becomes passé. He could understand that, but was focussing on the centrepiece. The music. Frankly it rocked. And as testament to the quality of the grooves, the dance floor was busier than Wally World on Black Friday.

The second set started with a cross between Little Walter‘s Evans Shuffle and Big Walter‘s Honeydripper before moving into another good time rocking blues with a strong back beat. Everything you learned you had to learn from me… Goodbye! sang Piazza. Then a number which ran, I’ve been down so long, I’m on my way back up again. A 12/8 rhythm and a groove very much like Ray Charles‘ Lonely Avenue. Next a leaf out of the Jimmy Reed blues manual with a number called Wake Me Up In The Morning, complete with top end first position licks. If the Doc was to be at all critical of Rod Piazza’s playing, he’d say the top end blow bends are not his strongest part of the harp, but unless you play one yourself, you’d never notice. The audience certainly didn’t.

Time for some old-style doo-wop. It could have been Blueberry Hill, but this one was called You Can Make It If You Try. After which Henry tore up the auditorium with an instrumental which drew on licks from Lucille and Hip Hugger. Henry’s top shelf guitar work notwithstanding, it was at this point the Doc felt the full weight of Dave Kida’s drummer was most apparent. The guy is legend and he lives in every song. A New Orleans groove was next up with some second position harping, and then things slowed once more. Blue Midnight was one for blues lovers everywhere, in the style of Little Walter’s Last Night. Piazza pulled out all the stops. The harp tone was pure Jacobs with the reverb accurate to within 12/16 of an inch. The Leslie effect was verdant and Honey underpinned the whole groove with a convincing keyboard string bass tone.

Exit Rod and Henry once more for another Boogie-Woogie slot. This time the Doc had to concur – they’d already seen this in the first set – hadn’t they? Sadly no fast forward button at a live gig. He observed one or two crowd members retire to the bar and wash rooms. But by the time they were back, the Doc was at last witnessing Mr Piazza socking it to a busy dance floor with his fusion of Thurston Harris’ Little Bitty Pretty One and Bobby Day’s Rockin’ Robin. Key of A major, second position on a D diatonic and for the Doc, a lifetime’s wish fulfilled. At last he’d seen it done first hand complete with that killer wobble between the 3 draw bends and 2 draw. Bliss.

The penultimate song of the evening was Muddy Waters‘ Baby Please Don’t Go. It was at this point that Rod made reference to the fateful moment he missed his ride on the big blues bus. Apparently in the mid 1970′s he’d been contacted by Muddy with an invitation to play a gig, but he just couldn’t make it. The bus left without him, never to return. No matter. Rod has carved out his own very successful career nonetheless. Time for one last old time shuffle. Rock that boogie Mr P. Rock that boogie!

Taxi to the terminal zone

Credits go to Carol and Loren Essig for their friendship and encouragement at the gig. Major thanks also go to Frank Vigil for his superb photography. Frank has many album covers to his credit including the Mighty Flyers. You can see his work on line at www.myspace.com/frankvigilphoto, www.frankvigil.com and at www.pbase.com/frankvigil. Finally, thanks to Rod Piazza for the short interview and for making a small dream come true.

See our follow up Rod Piazza article with background, tab and sound clips for you to play Little IttyPretty One (Rockin’ Robin).

[UPDATE: Epilogue is now live - Old-school harmonica or new school?]

For a man bearing such a burden, you’d think Joe Filisko would have broader shoulders. I mean, considering he hoisted the entire tradition of blues harmonica up on them things, you’d think he’d be wide as a Buick.

Perched on a high stool with nothing but a harp, a mic and a couple of stories, his one-man show is like an oral ethnography of the blues harp tradition (see the Good Doctor’s review). Considering Filisko devoted decades to studying and mastering the styles of bluesmen long deceased, there’s just about nobody in the world who knows more about what it takes to be a Walter, Big or Small, or a Sonny of any kind.

So naturally after the gig I cut through a gaggle of harp enthusiasts to get me some of that Joe Filisko wisdom.

When I saw you up there with [young-blood supporting act] The Shoestrung, a more serious bluesman juxtaposed with some guys who’re really just having a laugh, it reminded me of Sonny Boy II playing with the Yardbirds. Not that I’m directing this at The Shoestrung in any way, but as a teacher and a performer if you had to put your finger on it, what’s one key thing that youngsters in blues are missing?

<A long, long pause. Some old guy called Clive chips in: “I think Joe’s still a youngster, anyway…” Everyone laughs, Joe says, “Thank you! God bless you!” and Elwood feels shamed. Thanks a bunch, Clive.>

FILISKO: Look, I’m all about knowing what the strengths are, and playing to the strengths of the instrument. And I would say most youngsters don’t play to the strengths of the instrument. It’s about creating those big sounds, thick textures. It’s visceral, when you lock into those strengths. For example, you can be busy on the guitar, but when I hear Ry Cooder play slide guitar… man, it grabs me and it chokes me up, the minimalism of it. Granted, you can be fancy and flashy and you’ll get a quick response — people will be, like, YEEAAAH! But I don’t think it’s a long term thing. I think it’s quick, it lasts about ten minutes.

And then where do you think they’re – I should say we – are going wrong?

FILISKO: For whatever reason in blues there seems to be this [attitude of] “I’m threatened by you! Don’t learn from me, go off and get your own style, but don’t learn from my mistakes. Make your own mistakes, figure it out yourself.”

I think that’s a bunch of crap! There’s certain things the harmonica does really well, and it’s my impression most young players don’t lock into that, because people don’t want to share where the strengths are. There’s not a lot of good information readily accessible about how to play the harmonica.

There’s a lot of bad information available. There’s a lot old wives’ tales and misconceptions and falsehoods. It’s readily available; all you gotta do is read a lot of books or go on the internet. So if you’re trying learn how to do something, and the information that’s available is incorrect or full of half truths, how well are you gonna learn?

Now, when you talk about threats – it does seem in the old days guys had to be protective over their livelihoods. Junior Wells in a Living Blues interview describes how when he went to Sonny Boy II for pointers, Sonny Boy wagged a switchblade at him…

FILISKO: In the history of blues-oriented music, all the old guys got ripped off. With few exceptions. So the old guys are always feeling threatened by the new guy. “I don’t want to show you my tricks, because you’ll take my trick and make it yours.”

That’s intimately woven into the fabric of blues history. I have interviews of Big Walter Horton, for example, deliberately – I think – misdirecting people asking about how to do stuff. He’s paranoid! He was really paranoid about people taking his photograph. I actually have audio tape of gigs where somebody takes a photograph from the audience and Walter Horton marches off the stage, and is in the guy’s face and you can hear him say, “Give me the film! Give me the film! Give me the film!”

…Because he feels like he’s being ripped off.

I’m very interested by your philosophies on blues tradition, because you’re sort of channelling all the greats for future generations. Some people might disagree with sticking too close to tradition, they advocate rather branching out and finding your own sound. It’s the age-old question, but what’s your take on this?
FILISKO: Well, when I go on stage, it’s about one thing: Sounding good. And I think that too many people are way preoccupied with having their own sound. To me that’s ego-driven. It’s cool to have your own sound, but I think few people can get away with it for the long term. I would rather do something that’s a homage to different players, and know that I’m keeping the attention of the audience for the long term, than having my own style for the whole time. That’s just what does it for me. Having your own style to me is ego-driven.

Fair enough… But then, if it’s all rooted in tradition what’s the future of blues harmonica?
FILISKO: Well, one might argue that the harmonica sounds best played as it was played [gestures over his shoulder] in the Fifties. And if it sounds best, then why not do it? It’s like a language. You’re British, I’m American, but we’re talking to each other in the same language, and we understand each other probably 98 percent perfectly [Elwood's actually South African, but Joe wasn't to know - Ed]. Do we have to invent new words to communicate? So why do we have to expand on the language?

I’m not saying we shouldn’t. If it’s in your gut, then you should go with it. Paul deLay might be a good example of someone who’s a traditional blues harmonica player that possibly expanded on the language. A brilliant song-writer, brilliant vocalist, brilliant musician, brilliant harmonica player. When I listen to him I’ve moved by it. But I don’t think that’s a common thing. I don’t know that everybody is capable of having their own unique style.

I would rather sound good with the instrument we already have than to try have my own style and have it be “me me me me me”. Now, many would argue with that, but so what!

Well, folks – just five questions in a noisy pub, but Joe Filisko gave me lots to think about. See my next post for the epilogue.

Elwood is the guest blogger for The Harp Surgery’s Apprenticeship Series. In his spare time he’s a grad student in London. Follow him on Twitter, if you like.

I asked the Riverboat Captain (our webmaster) what he knew of Lee Oskar, WAR and the Low Rider tune. ‘You should check it out,’ said the Captain, ‘it’s good stuff. Especially the ‘World Is A Ghetto‘ album.’ And he filled me in on an area of music about which I had been totally ignorant. I looked at my small collection of Lee Oskar harmonicas in a totally different light. Time for the Good Doctor to pull out his press card and investigate. It was early morning somewhere near Seattle…

So Lee, tell me about arriving in America, aged 18, straight from Denmark, with no money..

Yes, I left Denmark when I was 18 for a life in the USA. I wanted to be in the music business. It was my main interest. My heart was in it. It was my dream.

Were things different in Europe at the time?

Yes, very different. The whole industry was focussed on the US rather than Europe. The UK had the Stones and the Beatles, but the US was the main hub for music. Europe has changed now. The music industry is now more homogenised all over the world.

Where did you start your life in the USA?

In New York first. Some people put me up in a hotel. I then found out they were the same people who brought Pete Best and Chris Huston (guitarist for The Undertakers) to America to start their new lives. Chris later became engineer for WAR! It was the same people – pure coincidence. I had never stayed in a hotel before in my life. I was naive. I had no money and the sponsors were away, so I didn’t eat for three days. Starving hungry, and in my broken English, I asked the maid if I could borrow some money. She said ‘sign it to your room!’ I had no idea that I could sign to my room.

Is it true you started out playing the streets of New York?

I did try. You had to be aggressive at pan handling. I put my hat out and played. Some people make a living at it, but it’s not something I made a profession out of. If I had courage enough, I’d do it on the street, but my goals were different.

So you moved on to Toronto, then San Francisco and finally LA?

The first time I met Eric Burdon [The Animals] was in LA. A new club had been started called The Experience, far away from the Sunset Strip and Whisky A Go Go. It was East of all that, in an area where no one hung out. But the club got a good reputation as a place to jam. All the well-known bands passing through LA would show up to jam after their concert. The cover charge would change, depending on who was in town. One day $5, next day $2. It became big competition with Whisky A Go Go. They let me in every night for the jam. Eric and I would sit in with a Florida band called The Blues Image. Eric Burdon was considering taking The Blues Image and me on board as back up for his future gigs. But The Blues Image ended up making a deal with Atco Records and later on they had a big hit with Ride Captain Ride.

Eric was trying to organise his future as well as find the right backing band and I hung out with him while he was trying to make his decision. He was torn between going with Phil Spector or two businessmen, who later became our band managers. Of course I knew who Phil Spector was, but the other guys were two nobodies to me. Now that I talk about it, go figure, who’d have known that Phil Spector would be convicted on a murder rap and the ex managers that Eric chose to do business with screwed us out of a lot of money. Life goes on. Eric was kind enough to let me stay on his couch, which got me off the streets. Right time, right place. Oh I could tell you some crazy stories..

Go on then, tell me one!

How about when I first came to LA? I was told to look up Doc Siegal who was the head engineer for Goldstar Studios on Vine and Santa Monica. I had a demo on an acetate of my performance with a band from the Bay Area and when I got to the studio and I met Doc Siegal, he took the time to listen to it. He immediately introduced me to Stuart Levine, a well-know producer, but Stu, who was partners with Hugh Masakela, didn’t have time to take on any new projects. Doc took Stu Levine to a back room and played him my demo. Stu took interest and gave me the address where I could meet his music partner Hugh Masakela. So I went up to Hugh’s house. This was all before I met Eric Burdon. Goldstar Studios no longer exists and Doc Siegal has since passed away.

The band I brought down from the Bay Area and I had a place to stay, so Stu and Hugh helped to cover the rent as they were interested in me as an artist. They later moved us to a house in Malibu, where we could rehearse and prepare for recordings. At that time Hugh and Stu left town and the band was told that Lee Oskar was their main interest. A lot of animosity grew and we ended up living at opposite ends of the house.

A young Japanese guy who was also staying at the house warned me that I had one week to get it together with the band. If I didn’t, I would have to leave. Whatever the reason behind this was, I am not sure, but the band members were not co-operating and nothing got done. So, a week later I was back on the streets. The Japanese guy gave me a ride out of town. ‘Where shall I drop you off?’ he asked. ‘Sunset and La Brea,’ I replied. He dropped me off and gave me a $100 bill. It was the most money I had ever seen. I checked in to the Palm Desert Motel – I think that’s what it was called – for $6 a night. I felt like a king. I would walk from the motel to the Whisky A Go Go. I tried to figure out what I should do.

Now that I was at the motel, I found a rehearsal room and another band. The band itself wanted to collaborate, but I didn’t want to be involved with heir management. So this was when they threatened me about my legal status in the USA. The management found out my visa had expired, so I had to get out of there too. A lot of crazy stuff.

I went to A&M records and when I walked in the front door and saw the receptionist – who I though was the record company – I said, ‘I’d like to sign a deal for $400.’ She called security and said, ‘Get this crazy hippy out of here!’ So I went back to the band who were staying in a little room. I was convinced we could get a record deal somewhere. I found a club in the valley where we could do an audition. Performers would stand in line with a number, like a delicatessen, and wait for their chance to play. This is the way the club got free entertainment! And this was when I first met Chris Huston. He introduced himself to me and gave me his card. I was very excited as I thought I could use his studio to cut another demo and take it back to A&M records to prove that I was worthy of a deal.

I went to Chris’s studio and said if he had any down time I’d like to record a demo. He said he’d only give me down time if I signed a deal with him. I was so disappointed – I wanted to sign a deal with A&M records. I was sitting in the studio lobby feeling totally empty and disillusioned. In fact I was thinking about going back to Denmark. All of sudden this guy came out of the studio room with a comb and paper, humming and yelling at the staff, ‘I need a harmonica player!’ They said we’ve got someone on the way.

This kid came running up the stairs and into the studio. Minutes later the kid left again and Jerry Goldstein came out of the studio yelling, ‘Why can’t you get me a harmonica player?’ The kid hadn’t cut it. I took my only harmonica, an F major diatonic, out of my back pocket and said I play harmonica. ‘Well come with me,’ said Goldstein. I went into the studio and put the headphones on. They played me the track they wanted harmonica on. It was a real bubblegum thing. Well I started off in fifth gear, I was so excited to play. I played over the whole damn thing! I didn’t even realise until afterwards the song was in C. Which was really lucky. When I listened to the playback, I thought there was no taste in my playing. Goldstein was so excited about it he gave me $10 on the spot. At that point, when I left the studio, I felt like a king. I lied and told the band I only made $5. Anyway, I took this parking meter lady out for pizza with the money. The pizza came to more than I had, so I left the money and my only harmonica as a tip. It seemed like things just weren’t going my way.

I headed off to the Whisky A Go-Go where they’d let me in for free, and sitting in the celebrity booth were Chris Huston, Eric Burdon, Jerry Goldstein and also Steve Gold who I met for the first time that evening. Steve and Jerry were the business partners Eric was talking to. Of course everybody knew who I was, except Steve Gold. Eric said to Steve, ‘Lee is part of the band I am putting together.’

So I got to stay at Eric’s house on the couch. Shortly afterwards we went to a meeting Eric had arranged with Phil Spector. When we walked into Phil Spector’s office, it struck me as a strange place. It was in an old building with high ceilings. Spector’s office had one window with Phil sitting in front of it. He could see our faces, but all we could see was his silhouette. I just tagged along.

Eric was leaning towards being more than just a rock and roll artist. He wanted to be involved with business too. Phil Spector was interested in producing Eric Burdon’s new album. At the same time Eric was interested in owning his own production company and being his own keeper. Do you go with Phil Spector or do you go with these two other guys with all the chat, running a poster company, who can charm everybody? The latter was an appealing option to Eric, not knowing how shrewd these guys really were.

We went down to a club called the Rag Doll where this football star, Deacon Jones from the LA Rams, was performing with The Nightshift, doing one armed push ups on the dance floor as he sang a ballad. The place was packed. When he finished his showcase, the band played its own set. That’s when I was encouraged to jump up on stage and join in. The band thought I was the famous English popstar they’d heard would be dropping by. Which goes to show how segregated pop, R&B, jazz and rock all were at the time. The Nightshift were all black guys except for Peter Rosen their bass player. They knew James Brown but they didn’t know who Eric Burdon and The Animals were!

After I finished sitting in with them, we all decided to have a meeting the next day at this apartment. It had an outside swimming pool. The nucleus of The Nightshift band, Eric and myself sat around the pool shooting the shit. There are many different stories about how the name WAR came about. Well I was always philosophising. My philosophy was everyone was walking around saying ‘Peace’. I believed that if you were in total peace with yourself there would be no creativity. The thing that makes you creative is if you are at war with yourself. Steve Gold pulled the name WAR out of this. Next thing I knew I was in a band, Eric Burdon and WAR, playing with a huge superstar and part of a horn section. What better dream than a harmonica and saxophone horn section. At that time, anything outside the box was much more welcome. Experimentation was more welcome as the industry was just blossoming. Nowadays everything has a formula.

I joined the Musicians Union. The heading on my membership card said ‘Federation’ of Musicians. It made me think I was legal in the USA! But of course I wasn’t. A couple of years later we were in Europe touring. On the way back, Eric needed to stop off in Hamburg for a new visa. So did I. When we got to the immigration office, they had one for him but not for me. They said there’d be one for me in the next country, The Netherlands. So I had an air ticket, no visa, no suitcase, just a carton of cigarettes and a concert in Fillmore East, New York, to make two days later. I believe I flew to Germany, then Amsterdam and changed my ticket, thinking this might fool the authorities.

I flew to Canada and into New York City. I told them I was ‘visiting family’ and I got in. It wouldn’t happen today with all the computers! I arrived five minutes before the show in a cab with Dutch money still in my pocket – which I gave to the driver. It was probably worth way more than the fare. So there I was on stage with Eric Burdon and WAR when, right after the song Mother Earth, our drummer Harold Brown laid a huge whack on the kit and yelled, ‘I’m tired of playing this Uncle Tom music!’ The place was in silence. You could have heard a pin drop. I don’t recall what happened next. I was exhausted and in shock!

We regrouped but it was one of our last shows with Eric. Eventually, on tour in Europe, Eric didn’t turn up. He wasn’t to be found. We knew he was tired of all the changes. We assumed he was in Newcastle resting. So we had to do the show without him. We kicked ass and went down really well.

So War continued for around 24 years before breaking up?

Nothing as defined as 24 years or anything. We never actually stopped playing. A lot of BS comes from management trying to divide and conquer.“..the end of WAR was never cut and dried. We never stopped playing. But the legal situation has become very complicated.” Five of the seven original members are still alive. Charles Miller (sax) and Papa Dee Allen (percussion) are at rest. Four of the remainder have formed the Lowrider Band – myself, Harold Brown (drums), B B Dickerson (bass) and Howard Scott (guitar). It’s actually WAR plus new members, but we’re not allowed to say ‘WAR’ or ‘formerly WAR’ for legal reasons. There’s lots of money owed to us. There’s also the ‘Phony’ WAR as we call it. It’s not even a tribute band. It’s pretending to be the real thing. The original keyboard player, Lonnie Jordan, just a yo-yo with lies for the ex-Manager, is behind it all and says WAR never split. Rolling Stone magazine carried an article about WAR versus the Lowrider Band. They concluded the best bet is that it’s the Lowrider Band that’s legit! So the end of WAR was never cut and dried. We never stopped playing. But the legal situation has become very complicated.

So when’s your next performance?

Lowrider are doing three nights at Yoshi’s in San Francisco later this month. Two shows a night. We will video and record it. Harold and I have a huge archive. Eventually we want to do a documentary about how the music and entertainment industry works. If anyone joins the industry, they need to be responsible for whatever they agree to. They need to understand about trademarks, copyrights, royalties and so on, and the many aspects you should understand about what you sign to. The moral is you only earn what you know how to claim. We are owed a lot of stuff we signed for!

How did you come about starting your own Harmonica business?

I was frustrated with what existed. It wasn’t very inspiring when the music store had to blow dust off the only harmonica they had and it played out of tune. It led me to thinking about what would make the best harmonica – I was always tinkering. I was often back and forth to Japan composing soundtracks for commercials, so I had the opportunity one day to meet and greet the heads of Tombo. Fortunately they were big Lee Oskar fans. But I wanted my own ideas and designs realised, not just my name on their harps. They represent four generations of harmonica makers. That’s a long tradition. It took time and respect to get to know the family. They were dedicated to the art and craft of the instrument and remained with it through hard times. They didn’t just drop it and start making furniture.

It was our 25th anniversary last year and we’re the biggest competitor to Hohner. I’m not interested in novelties for promotion though. My whole purpose is consistency and high quality, with interchangeable parts. This is important in today’s economic world.

Why did you adopt a bigger spec than Hohner?

Tombo were originally using wooden combs. The introduction of injection moulding meant we could narrow the dividers and increase the hole size. With wood you can’t mill them any thinner – they wouldn’t stay up. With injection moulding why would you want to clone? We designed less space between each hole; you get there faster from chamber to chamber moving with narrower dividers. Also injection mouldings allowed just three bolts to make the instrument airtight, because of the precision of the moulding and the inlaid reed plates.

Did this trigger Hohner’s Modular System (MS)?

I see it as two things. Firstly the German banks were carrying Hohner. After a while they’re gonna make a business decision. So secondly, Hohner came back with a solution that meant they no longer needed a special [manufacturing] set up for each different reed plate model.

So why so many Hohner models if they’re carrying the same reeds?

Marketing is the answer. If I want to sell to the Boy Scouts, I’ll stamp Boy Scouts Harmonica on the cover. Marine Band for Marine Bands, Fisherman for Fishermen, El Cheapo for others. The cover plate is like a book cover. Different covers appeal to different people.

But there is a slight difference, musically speaking. Some have equal tuning, some have temperate tuning. In temperate the root and the fifth in the chord share relatively the same value. The fifth may be slightly sharper. The third is flattened down (about 10 cents). This gives a smoother sounding chord. Lee Oskars are equal tuning, so better for lead playing. In single note and lead playing the number five draw sounds off, because temperate must be flattened -24 cents. With Hohner, the Marine Band and Blues Harp are typically temperate.

What do you have planned for your own product development?

Of course I want to continue maintaining a product with the utmost quality control. We work hard to maintain the integrity of our product on the Lee Oskar harmonica system. Our plans are to provide all kind of support tools such as videos, website, musical recordings and information to educate and connect people with our product range.

We are offering a bunch of short videos about tuning and so on. I want to encourage folks to feel comfortable with the Lee Oskar system. We have so many mix and match possibilities. I want to show folks how to be creative rather than looking at the harmonica as just a ‘Cookie Cutter’! The biggest fear people have is being creative and breaking out of comfort zones. If you are in a musical rut, take it as a positive thing! You are being inspired to move on to new areas. However, if you stay in the rut, the magic and vibe is gone.

The best thing is to learn by not being afraid just to do anything. If you screw up, do it again. Repeat it and musically you have something new. That’s jazz! There’s no such thing as a mistake. You can’t erase it. Enjoy the naiveness.

Thanks for all your comments Lee. One parting question. I read on Wikipedia that Junior Wells was laid to rest with a tray of your harmonicas by his side. Is this true or false?

We became very good friends. He used my harmonicas. I do recall hearing something like that but I’m not certain. Papa Dee Allen does have one of my harmonicas in his grave though. He died of a brain haemorrhage on stage. I dropped the last harp I used with him on stage into his grave.

Finally, any message for folks this side of the pond?

Yes! Visit my website www.leeoskar.com There is a radio streamer where you can hear my compositions. The keys of the music are on there and there’s some video stuff on tunings. I am also promoting foot pedals for harmonica players. They are marketed for guitarists, but they are just an application which works just as well for harmonicas. My suggestion is to try out any guitar pedals. See what you you can find to embelish your sound!

Ever since buying a copy of the 1990 W.C.Handy award winning album Harp Attack, Billy Branch has had me intrigued. He’s pictured on the cover as the new kid on the block, alongside three legends – Junior Wells, James Cotton and Carey Bell. Billy provides fresh reinforcement for the old guard, enlisted to extend the Chicago Harp tradition rather than bend it (as Sugar Blue might have done). The album is of course a valuable celebration of ChiTown honking, however the full extent of Branch’s artistic ability was probably hidden under the barrage.

So it was when I heard his 1995 solo album, The Blues Keep Following Me Around, that I really began to appreciate Billy’s work. Again it stems directly from the Chicago idiom – how could it not – but it makes a fearless march forward. It is new, energetic and wonderfully varied. Billy’s passion for the blues shines through the whole recording and he takes no prisoners. His cover of Tony Joe White’s Polk Salad Annie is a particular classic. With a heap of soul in the vocals and a brooding, pulsating groove, Mr. Branch takes you down in Louisiana and dumps you right on your…corn patch. Which reminds me – Billy is not only a cool harp player, he is also a magnificent singer.

Down the Mines

So it was the Good Doctor found himself in Chicago the same day Billy Branch And Sons Of Blues were in town. With absolutely no excuse not to go visit, the Doctor jumped a downtown taxi and ordered the driver to speed him ten minutes along the lakeside to Halsted and its brace of blues clubs. He was on a mission.

Kingston Mines and B.L.U.E.S. are, to be brutal, tourist traps. While B.L.U.E.S. at least offers the ambiance of a traditional music pub, Kingston Mines is a hulking beer hangar, devoid of character. However, if one of the Doctor’s all time harping heroes happens to perform nearby, he’s paying the cover charge and he’s in there. He’s also prepared to suffer the appalling ales in the name of art. A $20 bill was duly tendered and the Doctor’s skin was stamped.

The Doc introduced himself to the maestro and was graciously invited to sit at the head table. With Billy’s permission he inspected the heavy-duty leather harp bandoleer that lay between their glasses, like an off duty lawman’s holster. The bullets were almost exclusively hand made Hohner Marine Band. ‘When I first started,’ Billy reminisced, ‘the other guys laughed at me. If you hadn’t played the harp for at least five years, they didn’t take you seriously.’ Apprenticeships, we ask you. They’re probably right though. The Good Doctor mentioned his favourite Billy Branch album The Blues Keep Following Me Around. ‘You should check out Mississippi Flashback too,’ Billy replied. There was eye contact and that connection you get when you meet someone for the first time, but you feel like you’ve known them a while. The Doc liked this guy. A lot.

It’s A Crazy Mixed Up World

The house’s Master of Ceremonies – the inimitable Mr Pellegrino – took the stage and delivered a well rehearsed and humourous introduction to proceedings. As he did so, Billy sat sipping brandy and chatting to well wishers at the back of the club. The band shifted into gear, with keyboard, bass (five string electric), drums and guitar. Together they delivered two warm up numbers sans band leader, the drummer handling the vocals. Their opener was distinctly funky. The follow up was a big ballsy New Orleans style blues.

Without a pause, the band faded into a slow blues and the MC returned. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he croaked, “it’s time for our star of stage, screen and cinema, the man who starts off the Chicago Blues Festival… this is Billy… Branch.” Rosa, his partner, decanted some brandy into Billy’s glass and passed him his harp belt. Billy took the stage holding his ‘stick’ harp mic, with a radio connection to his solid state Peavey amp. Taking command, he addressed the vocal mic and engaged his audience. “We’re gonna take you back to where I come from, back up in the country in Mississippi… If you ever been mistreated,You know just what I’m talkin’ ’bout, I work five long years for that woman, And she had the nerve to put me out.‘ His harp sound was awesome.

The next number returned to the funky groove. Radio mic and diatonic harp in hand, Billy hit the lead vocal, “I’m going down…down, down, down, down, down.” He injected snatches of urban harp between some very fine singing. Mid-song, Billy pulled off a solo break from the top end, with a mesmerising cascade of notes and licks. It was simply amazing. And he was staring straight at the Good Doctor, who knew exactly what he was thinking. ‘Have some of this mate!’

Next up, a swing blues with Chromatic harp. The Doctor’s favourite number of the whole evening, Little Walter’s Crazy Mixed Up World. A tsunami of bodies hit the dance floor. And as the chorus kicked in, the band’s front line added shoulder swings that were synchronised to the ‘bomp-bomp’ stabs in between the lyric. It was utterly fabulous and cooler than a prize winning cucumber.

“Burn, burn, burn,” followed, with diatonic harp. This was hard hitting R&B with A1 vocals. It could almost have been Dr. Feelgood in its ‘hit ‘em hard, hurt ‘em bad, then get out quick’ approach. Just for good measure however, Billy chucked in some top end blow bends and special effects from his octave pedal. The result was technical accomplishment rather than just power play. It was slick and Billy knew it. His cheeks were billowing like linen in the breeze.

Time for Little Walter’s You’re So Fine and a harp break so Jacobesque, it was perfection. My colleague leaned over his beer, “He’s not even trying is he? It’s just falling out of the harp!” And, yes it was wizadry. The Good Doctor was dumbfounded with admiration as the main man performed with all the energy and skill of an olympic decathlete.

The first set over, Billy and the Good Doctor chatted and had their picture taken against one of he club’s murals. “Let’s stand by this one,” said Billy, “the cotton fields.” “Oh no!” the Good Doctor heard himself reply. “Why not?” Billy questioned breezily. “My people were responsible for all that sh*t”, replied the Doc. Billy turned to his cohort and asided, “did you hear what the man said? His folks were responsible for this sh*t’!”

Instantly, Billy and the Doc shared an elevated understanding. “Did you hear of Frederick Douglass?” Billy asked, as they returned to the table. “Think I’ve heard the name, but clue me in,” the Doc replied. “We’ve been reading his work recently,” chorused Billy and Rosa. “Think you should check him out,” Billy advised. [The Good Doctor has subsequently checked out Frederick Douglass and acknowledges his significance as an abolitionist, women's suffragist, statesman and reformer].

Seconds out, round two

The band struck up with Pick Up The Pieces, then straight into Who’s Making Love (To Your Old Lady). At this point a beer and cigarette break interrupted the reportage, however the Doc does recall the subsequent number involved Billy Branch cooking up a monster blues strut.

Then a change of tack. Summertime on Chromatic harmonica. Once again it was expertly executed. And as the jazz faded, the R&R came piling back in. Big shuffle. Big vocals. Route 66. Radio mic in hand, Billy dished up his solo, barking out a list of styles as he went, “Carey Bell,” associated wailing and honking, “James Cotton,” associated wailing and honking, “Junior Wells,” associated wailing and honking. Top job! It was Harp Attack in one hit. With barely a pause, Where’s My Money from Billy’s The Blues Keep Following Me Around album came storming in. Yes! The Doctor was grinning from ear to ear. It was perfection.

The second set finished and the Doc joined Billy in an Exodus across the street to B.L.U.E.S. where he was ushered in as part of the entourage. On stage were Li’l Ed And The Blues Imperials. As Li’l Ed wove his magical slide guitar licks, replete in JB Hutto headgear, Billy was handed a mic and responded with his harp from the floor. Totally impromptu, it was a fabulous moment and it was happening literally within touching distance. Everyone whooped, everyone hollered and everyone spilled their beer.

The Branch entourage returned to the Mines for Billy’s final set, however by this time the Good Doctor had succumbed to the dangerously anaesthetic effects of the house’s best bottled Belgian. Amidst the chats and the booze and the sets, Billy asked the Doc an impossible question. “Why do white folks like the blues?” He motioned to the audience. Turning round, the Good Doctor contemplated the sea of white faces. “I know why I like the blues”, he responded, “but I’ll get back to you with something more comprehensive.” Billy and the Doc spoke about Big Walter, exchanged numbers and the night drifted into history. Checking his watch, the Doc calculated it was 9am in the UK. Over and out for the count. Taxi for Mr Squiffy…

Acknowledements

I will forever remain indebted to Billy and Rosa for taking me and my colleague under their wings. My thanks also go to the doorman at B.L.U.E.S. for allowing us free entry as part of Billy’s entourage. It’s not every day you get to revel in a true Chicago Blues party with the greats. Not where we come from anyway. And if you get the chance, take a few minutes to learn about Frederick Douglass. He was an unlikely hero and his story is truly enlightening.

Prologue

For anybody looking to master the art of Chicago and blues harmonica, look no further than Jerry Portnoy’s front porch. Study his Grammy Award winning work with the Muddy Waters Band. Update this by investing in his solo project Home Run Hitter. Then check out Down In The Mood Room – it’s predominantly, though not exclusively, jazz. Give it time if you’re a bloozer. You’ll soon understand what Jerry has to say. Then get yourself a copy of his instructional package – Blues Harmonica Masterclass. It’s not cheap, but you get every ounce of bang for your buck, plus it’s the real deal straight from one of Muddy Waters‘ monolithic harp dynasty.

Harp Surgery visitors and students will know that Jerry Portnoy‘s work is regularly mentioned on this website. It also features in our teaching sessions. Most recently we’ve been mastering his version of Misty from the 1995 Home Run Hitter album. One student in particluar, Rob Ryman, has also been working on Real Gone Guy (from the same record). These are just two of countless numbers that carry Mr Portnoy’s hallmarks of style, accuracy, tone and expression.

But enough of the commercials. The Good Doctor found himself at a loose end in Boston this week. Time to grab the old press card and track Jerry Portnoy down for a chatette… ‘I’m sure we can get it done in half an hour,’ he teases in his rich baritone, ‘I’m not all that interesting….!’ Yeah right.

I hope it’s not too early to talk?

No that’s fine, I’ve had my first cup of coffee and smoked a cigarette…

You mentioned you have a radio show later this morning

Like my local duo gig, I’ve been doing it for about seven weeks now. It goes out every week with help from the main DJ – I call it ‘Jerry’s Jukebox’. I play songs where I have some connection with the artist and I add commentary or some anecdotes. It’s fun and easy. I bring in a couple of CDs. Guys I’ve played with.

Who are you featuring today?

I have a few classics. Little Walter, both Sonny Boys, T-Bone Walker, Freddie King, Louis Armstrong and some Duke Robillard – I’ll be playing Time Is Short. [written by Portnoy].

I got into your music through the Home Run Hitter album. More recently you recorded Down In The Mood Room. What’s the story behind your excursion into jazz?

It was recorded in 2001 and released in 2002. “A bold appropriation of jazz for blues harmonica” Amazon.comIt was a project I wanted to do for a long time. It’s not the sort of thing you could record with straight blues guys – the extent of their musical bailiwick would not allow them to do it. I wanted to get something more out there; record with horns and harp, with the harp holding its own tonally and standing up against the horns. It’s music I love but never got the chance to play live. An eclectic account of American music.

There’s been a long running debate regarding the compatibility of harp and horns. One to which I don’t subscribe personally. William Clarke did it so beautifully. Lee Oskar played alongside a saxophonist in WAR..

It’s the way you handle it. On the track So Slow the harp is so huge with the horns strolling underneath. I am really very happy with the album. It was number one on the Living Blues Radio charts for two straight months.

Are you a trumpet wannabee?

Oh yeah! I love Louis Armstrong. In my next life I want to be a trumpet player.

How about the Jug Band Waltz track. It cuts against the thrust of the album?

It’s probably outside the rest of them. I just threw in a bunch of stuff – jazz standards like Sentimental Journey, Stormy Weather. Then there was this Memphis Jug Band number.

Tell me about Home Run Hitter..

It was more a showcase for my songwriting. There was some good harp stuff like Blues In A Dream that I wrote in my musical wheelhouse – slow blues was always my thing. The songwriting was very strong. Mood Room is more to show the range of what the harmonica could do from Jug Band music to Stormy Weather.

Is there a link between Charge It and Money – they follow a similar theme lyrically?

“…My credit card speaks Japanese.” Charge It

I’ve spent a lifetime being broke [he chuckles]. Money has Duke Robillard on vocals and was originally recorded on the Red Hot And Blue album with the Legendary Blues Band in 1993 when Calvin Jones sang it.

The lyrics sound like something Rick Estrin might produce..

Rick Estrin and I go back forty years. We’ve been the best of friends since 1968. He started writing songs after hearing mine. Money was one he was taken with. ‘I get a thrill when I feel cold cash.’ He wound up having a great gift for it. He’s a modern day Lieber and Stoller - some fabulous lines.

I was lucky enough to meet him in San Francisco last week..

He’s a terrific entertainer and raconteur. We talk like little old ladies a couple of times a month for an hour at a time. ‘Tighter than frog booty – and that’s waterproof’, as Muddy would have said.

On the Home Run Hitter track Can’t Remember To Forget, there’s an impossible note around the five draw. Did you use a special tuning?

To get the five draw note I tuned it up half a step. They make them commercially. I can’t remember the name of them. I think Lee Oskar makes them [Lee Oskar Melody Maker]. I just took the cover plates off and filed the reed myself. You can still bend it down to the regular tone, so you don’t really lose anything.

And on Real Gone Guy there seems to be an octave midway which you maintain as you move from the draw, to the draw bend and then the blow note on the four hole?

Ooh I can’t remember. But email me the time code for where it appears on the track and I’ll let you know. [It cuts in at the 1:05 mark]

[As to the mystery effect you hear on Real Gone Guy - it is so faint to my ears as to be almost completely imperceptible. I don't hear an octave. It may just be a point in the song when I happened to adjust my grip on the mic and harp as I was playing and there is a resultant "tic" in the recording. Certainly nothing intentional and definitely not worth any further scrutiny. Jerry Portnoy]

Tell me about Big Walter Horton

I still miss him. I was in Europe when I found out he died. “I still miss him. I was in Europe when I found out he died. It really hurt me”.It really hurt me. I was really close to Big Walter. Do you have my instructional package? There’s some information on there. I used to go to his rooming home with a bottle of VO whisky folded under my jacket like a gun because it was a rough neighbourhood. To hear him natural just in a room is irreplaceable.

I would hear other player’s tone and attack and ask Big Walter how they did it. He would just say, ‘It goes like this.’ He wouldn’t break it down. I would capture it in my head and figure out how to reproduce it later. There are chat rooms that talk about tubes, mics and so on he may have used. The whole thing is ridiculous. Learn how to play the thing – dynamics, big tone. Play it properly and it won’t matter what equipment you play it on. I heard Big Walter play on cheap amps, tape recorder mics, big amps, little amps….

Is it true he was an enigmatic character?

He was a semi-withdrawn guy with a certain crusty exterior. But once he accepted you and trusted you, he could relax and he’d warm to you. He was a warm guy.

How about that famous Muddy Waters call – the one every harp player dreams of?

It is indelibly imprinted in my consciousness. It’s something I will never forget. I used to play with Johnny Young – a great guitarist and mandolin player. His playing was very simple, but what a beat. Physically, he looked kinda like a bowling ball. He was round and black. He stood five foot three and weighed three hundred pounds. It was funny to see him with a mandolin way up on his chest. You should check out Johnny Young, Chicago Blues, featuring James Cotton and Otis Spann [..and others, including Walter Horton. Arhoolie 1968]. There are some mandolin and piano duets with him and Spann that are out of this world.

Johnny was my first band leader – I was there with Johnny, Fred Below, Dave Myers, Louis Myers and Bob Riedy. It was basically The Aces plus Bob Riedy. I played with him a couple of years and then he passed away. There was a family benefit in Chicago and I went along after work at the Cook County Jail with two harps in my pocket. I walked in and it was packed. I almost turned around and walked out it was so crowded.

I looked across the room and saw Muddy on the bandstand. “Muddy, wherever you want me to be in this world, just tell me and I’ll be there!”.He was obviously looking at me and he motioned me to come over and play. Muddy dug it and asked for my number. He told his manager to take my number. I thought he was just trying to make me feel good. I waited outside in the rain to thank him afterwards. When he came out he said, ‘Boy, can you travel?’ I said, ‘Muddy, wherever you want me to be in this world, just tell me and I’ll be there!’ He looked at me and said, ‘You gonna hear from me.’ This was on a Tuesday night.

Friday, six or seven o’clock, the phone rang. It was Muddy’s manager telling me to call him. I was speechless. I only knew one reason why Muddy wanted me to call – I could hardly contemplate it! So I rang and he said, ‘We’re going to Indianapolis May 25th; playing a big baseball stadium. Go down and make yourself familiar with the band.’ May 25th it was ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, the Muddy Waters Blues Band!’

It was the greatest thrill I have ever had in music. It’s a one off. The analogy would be like playing centre field for the New York Yankees – a premier glamour job! For blues harmonica that’s the pinnacle.

What are your plans now?

Well I’m semi-retired. I don’t tour anymore. I go to Europe a couple of times a year. I’m hoping for dates in Italy in July 2009 and France in October. I will also be a judge at the World Harmonica Championships in Trossingen, Germany, in late October.

For about seven weeks I’ve been doing a regular Sunday afternoon gig at the British Beer Company pub/restaurant out here on Cape Cod – me and a guitar player [Rick Russell]. It’s great. You can get Sunday brunch and listen to live music. I really enjoy the two piece format. I have a very good time and it gives me a chance to play! Keeping my chops up is a struggle. You have to play consistently to keep up to a specific skill level; the small muscles in your mouth, the mask around your lips and your tongue action. Otherwise you can’t execute with the same clarity and crispness of attack. When I was younger and playing regularly I’d sit down for hours. At this stage in my life I just want to play live in front of an audience.

Do you ever go back to Chicago?

Not really. My dad used to have a store on Maxwell Street Market – Max Portnoy and Son, King of Carpets. Contrary to common assumptions, the name Portnoy is not French – Port Noir – but Russian. It’s from the Ukraine. Kiev.

I was in Chicago last week and met Billy Branch

Billy Branch? He used to come and see me play. He was a college boy – now he’s a hipster!

Billy asked me a question; ‘Why do white folks like the blues?’ Why do you like the blues Jerry?

I grew up around it. “..it’s one of the great cultural touchstones”.It was the incidental sound track to my childhood. Perhaps a better question would be, ‘Why do black folks turn their back on the blues?’ Perhaps it reminds them of poverty and a time of ignorance. So they got slick. Along came Motown and Soul. Blues was basically an embarrassment. It’s a shame because it’s one of the great cultural touchstones.

Epilogue

So there you have it. A moment with one of the greats from a very select lineage of harp greats. Jerry was lucid, personable and humourous. We could have carried on talking like two little old ladies for another hour. Probably longer. But I had to remind him he had a radio show to do. ‘Oh no problem,’ he replied ‘I’ll call them and tell them I’ll be a little late.’

As a final note, if there are any promoters in the UK interested in inviting Jerry to come and play – he mentioned Colne and the 100 Club – he would be a very happy visitor. As long as he gets to fly Virgin Atlantic. Apparently the only way he likes to travel across the pond…