Nobody writes bragging lyrics quite like Willie Dixon. Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters both did great jobs with them. While us poor white guys were having to put up with Bing Crosby and Doris Day the lucky black guys were listening and dancing to the earthy, gritty, sexual boasting of Muddy Waters.
When I was a kid this sounded like another world – the world of sex, drink and seedy bars. I couldn’t wait. It was a million miles from the manicured lawns of suburbia. This is where life rocked. I wanted some of that real hoochie coochie.
“(I’m Your) Hoochie Coochie Man”
Before I was born
I got a boy child’s comin’
He’s gonna be a son of a gun
He gonna make pretty women’s
Jump and shout
Then the world wanna know
What this all about
But you know I’m him
Everybody knows I’m him
Well you know I’m the hoochie coochie man
Everybody knows I’m himI got a black cat bone
I got a mojo too
I got the Johnny Concheroo
I’m gonna mess with you
I’m gonna make you girls
Lead me by my hand
Then the world will know
The hoochie coochie man
But you know I’m him
Everybody knows I’m him
Oh you know I’m the hoochie coochie man
Everybody knows I’m him
On the seventh hours
On the seventh day
On the seventh month
The seven doctors say
He was born for good luck
And that you’ll see
I got seven hundred dollars
Don’t you mess with me
But you know I’m him
Everybody knows I’m him
Well you know I’m the hoochie coochie man
Everybody knows I’m him
A long way from the suburbs of Surrey. Nothing wrong with Doris Day, she is still alive and still rescuing Dogs, she is a very good woman. Bing Crosby, no, real piece of s..t.
Ha yes – far from the Thames Delta. Yet the Blues spoke to me of earthy truth and authenticity that was real life and Doris Day seemed superficial and ultra sweet and sugary. The Blues was real sex, life and the underbelly. Bing, Doris and Dean were a false jolly jolly unreality that was of the suburbs and mown lawns. I wanted the underbelly where it was real.
I still do.