Tag Archives: Luther Dickinson

As The Year Goes Passing By: A Look Back at 2012

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The Ghost Writer heads North!

Our guys Harry G and Nanky P hook up by satellite to trade tales of 2012– Ed.

Harry: For me, the year was bookended by memorable shows from two of my favorite mid/late-70’s artists. In early January, Garland Jeffreys made a rare appearance up here in the Great White North. Backed by just a single guitarist and playing to an adoring, sold-out house in a small theater in NE Minneapolis, Garland was animated, engaged and gracious to a fault, staying after the show for hours signing anything people shoved in front of him and posing for photographs. The Parker and Rumour review has already been posted, so ’nuff said about that. Both men proved that rockers of a certain age can still be vital, passionate and relevant, without turning into anachronistic Indian-casino-touring oldies shows.

Nanker: For me, it’s the unexpected, off-the-cuff moments that are the live concertgoers’ reward for tolerating outrageous fees by brokers, no parking near venues, and pre-drink requests for I.D. from twenty-year-olds who can’t grow a beard. ” I.D.? I saw Blind Faith back when your Mom was a preschooler! Give me a damn beer! ”

Malcom, Luther, and John rock the soundcheck

Malcom, Luther, and John rock the soundcheck

How about these: Watching the North Mississippi Allstars’ soundcheck, as Luther Dickinson helped integrate new bassist Lightnin’ Malcom and tour keyboardist Missing Cat John Hermann by jamming on the Stones’ Latin-flavored rave-up finale to ” Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’? ” Listening to Mavis Staples telling the story of her father, Roebuck ” Pops ” Staples, writing ” Keep On Marchin’ ” in 1963 for the blood-stained Freedom Marches in Alabama. Hearing Joe Walsh, his little-kid voice choking with emotion, saying of his friend Levon Helm, ” I’m not okay with his passing, but it helps me to sing this “, as he lead his band into ” I Shall Be Released “. Meeting Marcia Ball at the merch tent at Blues Under the Bridge and asking how she liked the Soiled Dove Underground ( she did!). Seeing Bonnie Raitt raise her fists in triumph like Rocky Balboa to proclaim, ” I just had a visit from Dr. Feelgood “, and knowing that every guy at Red Rocks wished it was him.

Blues Under the Bridge 2012

Blues Under the Bridge 2012

Where else but at the Rock Show?

Harry: Ah, Levon! His passing figured prominently in a number of venues this year. In Nashville, at the Americana Music Festival Honors & Awards show in September, not only did a cast of Americana heavyweights gather onstage for a stirring rendition of “The Weight,” dedicated to Levon, but later that evening the song was reprised by a different group of musicians at The Mercy Lounge. Nick Lowe gave a “Good on ya, mate” shout out to the late drummer for The Band at his First Avenue show, shortly after Levon’s death. I feel a certain affinity for Levon, as we share the same birthday (albeit 13 years apart). Like the old Pete Seeger song says, there was a time to mourn and a time to celebrate this year. NRBQ regrouped and put out a strong new album this year, following band leader Terry Adam’s recovery from cancer. A number of local Twin CIties bands put on a Kill Kancer Benefit show, in memory of the late Soul Asylum bass player, Karl Mueller. Another cancer survivor, Danny Amis, played most of a set with his fellow Los Straitjackets band members in September. So, for every loss, there is a survivor, and promising newcomers are always waiting, ready to pick up the torch.

NRBQ at Famous Dave’s in Minny!

Nanker: We should also remember Donald ” Duck ” Dunn, the Memphis kid who teamed with guitarist Steve Cropper and organist Booker T. Jones to make some of the greatest music ever in the late 60s/early 70s at the tiny Stax Records studio in his hometown, backing up Otis Redding, Sam and Dave, and Wilson Pickett, in addition to his own MGs with Steve, Booker, and the drummer Al Jackson, Jr.

Stax Recording Studios, Memphis, TN

Stax Recording Studios, Memphis, TN

Gebippe at Stax front door, in Otis' footsteps

Gebippe at Stax front door, in Otis’ footsteps!

And here’s hoping for a blowout New Year’s Eve at the 9:30 Club in D.C. with the North Mississippi Allstars Duo and the Drive-By Truckers. ” She ain’t revved ’til the rods are thrown! ” See ya there!

North Mississippi Allstars and Missing Cats

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Cody on washboard, Luther on drums, Malcom on bass, JoJo on keys. Not pictured: gang of female fans wearing ” More Washboard!” t-shirts.

Concert Review- NMA at Ogden Theater, Denver, CO 9/15/2012

WORLD BOOGIE FLATTENS MILE HIGH CITY!!!

( Phledge gets loose on Colfax – a street in Denver, not his latest scrip –  to commune with his heroes! – Editors)

      The opening hook of Keith Richards’ page-turning ” Life ” is the hilarious tale of Keith and Ronnie’s 400-mile drive from Memphis through west Arkansas on their way to a sold-out show in the Cotton Bowl in Dallas. The boys stop in a redneck bar, decide to get high for 40 minutes in the Men’s room, and proceed to occupy legions of the local gendarmes, the Highway Patrol, and authorities up to the Governor’s manse for the next 12 hours over the suspected contents ( not Tupelo Honey, Keith admits) of their rented ride parked outside the roadhouse.
And who sent them on this happy jaunt through country straight out of Charlie Daniels’ ” Uneasy Rider” ? As Keef says,  ” Jim Dickinson, the southern boy who played piano on “Wild Horses” , had told us that the Texarkana landscape was worth the car ride”.

Luther freestylin’ on… bass drum?.. as Malcom thumps along

Yes, that Muscle Shoals session that the Stones casually threw into their tour gave us        ” Wild Horses” and ” Brown Sugar”,  and later nearly caused a riot in Dallas had Keef and Ronnie missed the gig just for a  maintenance dose of that pharmaceutical Merck blow in the boys’ room. Jim Dickinson, a Memphis session pianist, had fortuitously been invited to the top-secret session at Jimmy Johnson’s studio, and struck up a kinship with Keef over the latter’s newfound affinity for southern country music, spurred by Keef’s time with Gram Parsons, who was not in Muscle Shoals, despite stories over the years. As Jim says,        ” Well, hell, if Gram Parsons had been there, I certainly would never have played the piano; it would have been him” .   And leave it to Jim to straighten out that perpetual controversy over the second verse of ” Brown Sugar, and the name ” Skydog Slaver”: ” Skydog is what they called Duane Allman in Muscle Shoals, because he was high all the time. And Jagger heard somebody say it, and he thought it was a cool word so he used it”.

Musicians in Southern towns like Memphis, Nawlins, and Muscle Shoals in the 60s and early 70s  were living out what Patterson Hood would later call the ” duality of the Southern Thing” ( “proud of the glory; stare down the shame…”), making great music with people of all races and cultures, while the struggles of the civil rights era were taking place within small-arms range. Small independent studios like Stax in Memphis and Fame in Muscle Shoals produced a stunning array of great songs by black and white artists, and might arguably have been the genesis, along with Nashville, of what is known as Americana today. Jim Dickinson emerged from this musical melting pot with a simple, direct sense of what ” good music” sounds like, and he became a well-known session player and producer. “I may not be the world’s best piano player, but I’ll put my taste up against anybody’s”. Jim located his family in Hernando, Mississippi, in the Hill Country populated by blues greats like Fred McDowell, R.L. Burnside, Kenny Brown, and Junior Kimbrough. To Jim’s amazement, his two sons grew up to not only embrace this music, but to play with and befriend the legends who were eager to see their historic sound not only honored, but updated by the young instrumental wizards. Jim nurtured the boys, produced their records, and mentored them as respectful students of a worthy genre of American music.

Jim was a tireless advocate for artists, and would often close cover letters  sent with the latest tapes or CDs to promoters and media outlets by saying, ” World Boogie is coming!”  Most figured this meant music as an irresistible unifying force. But as several have pointed out, surely Jim thought that World Boogie was already here. He passed in August, 2009, and the boys produced and recorded a great CD send-off to him, ” Keys to the Kingdom”.

I first saw the NMA about eight years ago in Minny with Gebippe at the famous Cabooze. Yes, that’s a train caboose, now a club. He’d turned me on to the “Electric Blue Watermelon” CD and I was anxious to see the boys live in a small venue. Luther turned out to be a revelation: a truly great slide player and compelling singer despite limited range. Cody was like a backwoods Charlie Watts on drums: always driving the sound, but never in the way. The younger Dickinson also played a nasty guitar himself, and blew out the crowd with his amplified washboard soloing. The bassist Chris Chew thumped along like a pulsating coffeepot, and stepped out for a soulful uptempo version of Al Green’s ” Love and Happiness”.  Gebippe and I later saw them opening for and backing John Hiatt at the Ogden in Denver, followed by shows over the years at the Freebird in Jax, the Boulder Theater, the Greeley Blues Festival, the Bluebird in Denver, and a memorable night at the Orange Peel in Asheville where we stood so close that Big Chew was hitting on my date, the Notorious Pamalama. I came to love and respect not only their artistry, but their integrity. They were playing exactly what they wanted to play, with no apparent concern for current trends or commercial appeal.

So when I heard they were coming to town, I called in several.. um, favors, and scored VIP for me and Il Padrone, my driver and consigliere. As we stood on Colfax outside the Ogden for our early entry, up walked Cody and JoJo, the keyboard player for the opener Missing Cats. The skinny Cody could not have been more gracious, stopping to chat with fans, and inviting us all in. We got to attend the soundcheck and see the boys working out endings to songs, and some cool improvising of the finale to the Stones’ ” Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’?”. I recognized Lightnin’ Malcom, whom I’d seen at Springing the Blues with Cedric Burnside doing Hill Country tunes, standing in for Chew on bass. Chew has had health issues of late, but is expected back soon ( See our Calendar page for update – Ed.). Then the Missing Cats did their soundcheck, as we realized that the NMA would be backing the Cats’ opening set. Hey, the mo’ Dickinsons, the mo’ betta!

Malcom, Luther and JoJo at soundcheck

After the soundcheck, the boys came offstage to meet the alleged VIPs and sign posters, and you would have thought they were the neighborhood garage band stopping by to make sure they weren’t playing too loud. Just a pair of nice Southern boys genuinely happy to see people show up to hear them play. Rendered dumbstruck in their presence, I was luckily able to mutter some thanks for coming to Colorado before they strolled backstage.

The Cats’ set was quite inspired, with JoJo Herman on keys and Sherman Ewing on guitar backed by Luther and Cody. The Cats harmonized nicely on a number of clever originals, and left space for Luther to solo on several tunes. I would love to have heard their CD,       ” Larry Brown Amen” before the show to catch the tunes quicker; it’s got some catchy stuff.

After a short intermission, the Dickinsons returned with Lightnin’ Malcom and kicked into a rolling set of classic Hill Country tunes like ” Drop Down Mama”, ” Skinny Woman”, and       ” Po’ Black Maddie”, and threw in originals like “This A Way”, ” Shake”, and the rearranged cover of Dylan’s ” Memphis Blues Again”. Cody wailed on the washboard, and traded licks on guitar with Luther. Malcom and Luther each took a spin on the drum kit, and JoJo came on to add depth near the end of the set. The crowd had swelled rapidly once the NMA walked on, and was now wildly rocking along to the rolling, irresistible beat, as Luther tailored the R.L. Burnside ” Georgia Women”  lyrics to the venue:

” I don’t know, but I been told: them Denver women… got a sweet jelly roll..”

Cody, Luther, Malcom, and JoJo

Much to the delight of the crowd, many of whom were hardcore fans who had followed the band on previous swings through the state, and had memorized the Boulder Fox Theater recording that the band self-released, ” Boulderado”. The fans roared the band back for an encore of more thumping bass, driving skins, and wailing slide until… the lights came on, and a magical night of music was a pounding memory in the brain. How had it passed so quickly?
The crowd shuffled out, heads shaking in amazement. World Boogie had arrived.

Phledge has been returned from VIP to Mere Poobah, and we’re all the better for it! – Ed.

Tab Benoit

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Tab Benoit and Luther Dickinson

Concert Review- Tab Benoit at Armstrong Hall, Colorado College, Colorado Springs, CO 9/14/2012

Our mountain correspondent Nanker Phledge gets his Double Secret Probation terminated in time for a supervised return to the rock show!

” Gotta like that 3:2 ratio”, I nodded with approval as I pocketed the coupon tickets from co-promoter George Whitesell and headed across the street to La’au’s Taco Shop for my complimentary three tacos and two beers. Having conned the clueless Editors into buying me a $40 ticket to the show– quite reasonable for a fine artist like Tab in today’s inflated ticket market- I was regaling in the fine VIP package arranged by George and Amy and looking forward to cashing in not only my coupons, but those of my recently-jettisoned ahem, escort, whom I’d sent on a fool’s errand once we hit the campus. ( How many times will they fall for that, ” how bout running in and getting us some lotto tix while I circle the block?”).  Now, six tacos and four beers, that’s what I’m talkin’ about! So I skipped across the street to La’au’s , grabbed the first two beers and a clever upright stand loaded with three tasty chicken tacos, and settled in to some great Hill Country-style blues from Grant Sabin. His set was yet another VIP perk, and when he strummed into R. L. Burnside’s  ” Po Black Maddie”, even Luther Dickinson himself would have been proud. Tacos, beer, and blues – what a concept!

Thankfully, I had scouted the venue after picking up my tickets, and knew that there was no food or drink available inside Armstrong Hall. Much less beer! Though a fine, acoustically pleasant space, it was much more akin to a recital or lecture hall than a concert venue. This sterile atmosphere would come into play later, as Tab would struggle to fit his gumbo and po’ boys act into the wine and cheese confines of the theater. It’s a truism of pain management and anti-inflammation that even the best meds will come up short if they have to come from behind. You have to stay ahead of the beast! Cagey concert veterans know that in situations like this, you better pre-medicate. Or pocket some Alice B. Toklas! Knowing that at least two hours of enforced sobriety lay ahead, I pounded the next round of Yellow Flag beers and wobbled across the street to my nicely reserved VIP section.

Tab was booked into Armstrong Hall in tiny, tony Colorado College after a great show at Stargazers Amphitheater last year. He plays Colorado frequently in the summer, and has a core of fans of all ages who love his Cajun-flavored, uptempo blues-rock. He’s tall, handsome, talented, and charming. Women frequently interrupt his short breaks during well-paced sets to ask that he remove articles of clothing, like he’s Tom Jones in the Sixties or something. He plays only what he likes, makes a good living, and makes people happy with his music. It can’t suck very hard to be Tab Benoit.

But Tab is a Loozianna country boy who wears jeans and doesn’t tuck in that Western shirt. He grabs guitar picks from the huge open jaws of a plastic gator head perched atop an amp, like his Mom was Polk Salad Annie. He plays a beatup Fender that looks like the woodshop class bandsawed it out of the desk you carved your initials into in kindergarden. His lyrics and music are from the swamps of the bayou, where nature reduces all to the most basic elements, like an all-day gumbo simmered down to the cast iron pot.

Grant Sabin goes Hill Country for the pre-show crowd at La’au’s Taco Shop

Sadly,  when I stumbled back across the street inside Armstrong Hall, the atmosphere was almost librarian. No drinks, no food, and strangely, no rest rooms on the same floor as the concert hall. Obviously not designed to accomodate beer drinking rock fans!

Tab Benoit

Tab disrupts study hall at Armstrong

The venue seemed to place the crowd in a sedated state. Tab joked that the house was eerily quiet, and that he felt like he was ” interruptin’ somebody studyin’ “. He remarked that he had played the Springs many times, in many joints, but this was ” the cleanest”. The blues-rockin’ Cajun wailed on that battered Fender, charging through several up-tempo rollers from his repertoire of crowd-raising songs, to no apparent effect. Though he had earlier played off several hollered requests– “not yet”- he began imploring the crowd to call for favorites:  “Now, how many times can you call out and have an artist do what you want? If you call Lady Gaga and ask her not to wear the meat suit, she’s still gonna wear it!”

Tab cools the raging cougars gathering stage front!

Things finally got to jumpin’ as Tab launched into ” Night Train ” and several numbers from his ” Medicine ” CD, with its message – ” bring me my medicine”- that anyone could get behind. He closed out the set with a bang, and blazed though a too-short encore that saw the crowd finally get involved and dance in front of the stage.

All aboard Tab’s ” Night Train ” !

You don’t spoon gumbo from fine china, and you don’t pour an Abita into crystal. Tab played a great, enthusiastic set in a hall that would be better suited for a chamber quartet recital, and never quite connected with the audience as a result. Artists like Tab feed off the energy from the room, and play better as a result. Catch Tab in a down-home venue where you don’t have to cross the street to get a beer!

( Memo to staff: please audit Phledge’s expense account — Editors)