Good Advice: Mississippi Delta Dues

Lost classic.

Thanks to the internet, there are no secrets anymore.  Those of us who began our musical journey in the pre-internet era used to be able to take some degree of pride in finding out about the cool stuff that nobody else knew about.  I remember when I first got into R.L. Burnside, and I had to twist arms to get people to realize that mid-tempo Chicago shuffles with wanky guitar solos weren’t the only form of blues currently in existence.  Fast-forward a few years, and I’m at the Deep Blues festival hearing yet another band play maybe the sixth version of Shake ‘Em On Down in a day, and I am no longer a unique snowflake.

When we’ve got full biographies and discographies devoted to artists as obscure as Omo the Hobo, to choose an example, you might think that everything that could be said about anything musical has already been covered to death on the intertoobz.   So why isn’t there more out there about one of my all-time favorite records, Mississippi Delta Dues by McHouston Baker?  Seems like I’m either the only person who likes this record, or I’m the only person who knows it exists.  Or both.  Me, I love this record.

The shit I saw, the shit I missed (Part II)

Schooley/Tom Smykowski - "Just remember, hang in there, good things, yadda yadda yadda."

I missed some things, but I’ve also been awfully lucky.  If you hang in there long enough, good things can happen in this world. I mean, look at me.

I was excited just to get a chance to see Junior Kimbrough, and later was out of my mind when I booked a show for R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough. I wouldn’t have believed you if you’d told me I would actually be backing up R.L.  onstage a couple of years later.

This is a big deal, in my world.

Same thing happened with The Penetrators – I’m just a fool who is a fan of the Kings of Basement Rock LP, and next thing you know I’m learning to play Shopping Bag and then I’m onstage backing up Spike and Jack.  An honorary Penetrator.  I think the juxtaposition of R.L. Burnside and The Penetrators also explains a lot about where I come from, musically speaking.

This has happened every now and then.  I’m hoping I get a chance just to see Spencer P. Jones perform, and then I end up doing a couple of shows and hanging out with him.  He’s an entertaining guy.  Same deal with Billy Childish.  I was just a fan of Walter Daniels, now the dude is a friend of mine and he’s even played on my records, and asked me to play on his.  He’s even stooped to commenting on my shitty blog – whatta pal!

"World's Greatest Unknown Guitarist," proving that there is no justice in this shitty world.

I’m pretty lucky in that I got to see Danny Gatton for one the few shows when he left his native D.C.-area stomping grounds.  That was one of those shows where I bought the expensive ticket and made the long drive when I had the chance, and I’m glad I did.  They videotaped the whole thing, but I’ve never seen it turn up anywhere.  There was a clip on Youtube for awhile, but then the video got taken down.  I’d love to get a copy of that show.

Some of the “rediscovered” acts I’ve gotten a chance to see have really been great.  Record nerds have occasionally tracked down the people who recorded those objects of their obsession, and found them still capable of kicking ass and taking names.  Thanks to them, some performers got a new lease on life, and I got to see them do what they do.

The shit I saw, the shit I missed (Part I)

Feedtime plays Beerland in April.  Sub Pop is reissuing their back catalog.  I am excited.

Feedtime is one of those bands I thought I’d never get a chance to see.  They broke up, reunited, and disbanded again, all before I was even aware of their existence.  Now, they are playing my favorite bar.

Not many Australian noise punk records made it to rural Missouri when I was a kid, so I had never even heard of them until I was full-grown and actually made it to Australia.  I was scouring the record shops for Beasts of Bourbon records without success.  (I asked one of the shop owners if they had any Beasts records.  His response: “We get a lot of Americans that come in and ask that question.”)  Rich Stanley, an Aussie legend in his own right, handed me a copy of Cooper S and said, “Have you heard this?  You’d probably like it.”  No, I hadn’t, but yes, I did.

Finally getting to see Feedtime is great, but it also makes me think about what other bands or musicians I would still be this excited about seeing, and unfortunately, the list is getting mighty short.  Only an idiot, or a writer for Pitchfork (probably not mutually exclusive categories), would try to claim that we are living in a golden age of anything musical right now.  You could argue whether the true golden age of American music was anywhere in the 1930′s, 40′s, 50′s, or 60′s, depending on whether you were more into bebop or girl groups or delta blues or whatever.  But you have to agree that the bad started to outnumber the good by the late 1970′s, at least as far as commercial popularity was concerned.  Things got worse in the 80′s, and by the time we got to the 90′s and 00′s it’s been downhill ever since.

Not that there hasn’t been good and bad music made during any of those decades, but just look at the top releases from, say, 1965 and 2005, and try to tell me there’s any comparison.  I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m just telling it like it is.  We may be living in a golden age of smartphone apps or something right now, but not music.

I take some comfort in the fact that, even though I happened to be born when the era of recorded sound excellence was already well in decline, I still managed to see quite a few great musical performances.  It has helped that the people who make rootsier kinds of music sometimes get better at it as they age.  Some of the most memorable shows I’ve seen are of artists that have since died, or who have stopped performing, so I’m glad I got the chance.  That’s just because, sorry kids: most of the best music got made a long time ago.  Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I missed most of it, too.

I come not to bury the compact disc, but to praise it.

No respect! No respect, I tell ya!

CDs get a bad rap.  The idea that CDs have any value is a joke.  Bashing the compact disc while praising vinyl has been the choice of the cool kids for awhile now, but it seems to be more about appearances than about the intrinsic value of either format.  I think I detect an unnecessary level of pretentiousness being added.  It’s like claiming to love Bon Scott-era AC/DC, but then hating on Brian Johnson.  We all love Bon, but c’mon.  If Brian hadn’t taken over, and the band had broken up instead, most of us would never have gotten a chance to see them live, and we never would have gotten Back In Black.

I feel the same way about vinyl and CDs.  Yes, vinyl is better, but without the CD there is too much music that I would have missed.  So, much as with Brian Johnson, I’m grateful to the CD.  I’m not a dick toward it.  Don’t be so high and mighty about vinyl, you ungrateful bastards.

Where the hell have you been, Schooley?

So I guess some sort of explanation is in order, to account for my absence from the music world and my whereabouts lo these many months.  Fans (all three of ‘em!) want to know.

Short answer:  poverty.

Long answer:

After I released my first one man band LP in 2005, I had a good run of constantly either playing shows, touring, recording, or saving up my money and vacation time at the day job to do more of the same.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always had a day job, and most of the musicians who I love have had day jobs.  Yeah, I like the Stones and Dylan like everybody else, but most of the musicians I like made little money from their musical careers.  In fact, me being a fan of your music would seem to be a guarantee of continuing poverty and undeserved obscurity.

So I started a stupid blog like an idiot.

Check back here for hours of reading enjoyment.

-Schooley