The Cleansing – 26 – Chapter 11 into Chapter 12

The political intrigue between aliens mirrors that to be found in human societies:

Chameakegra settled for checking the lunar facilities first. Finding time to fit everything in was proving difficult. She needed to be in ten places at once. An army of Xerc engineers were working on the facilities, burrowing deep into the moon’s substrate, creating rooms, facilities and corridors sufficient to house a small city, necessary to house and treat all the excised Hydrans. By the standards of the Federation, this was not too daunting a task. They had all the tools and materials to facilitate the operation. With the technology available this should not have taken too long to get up and running.

An army of psychiatrists were at hand. Behind the scenes Judge Booghramakegra had lubricated the moving parts to assemble the best.

Chameakegra was greeted at the entrance by loj, a large Minorian. She was familiar with species; Graffa, her second in command on the Neff was a Minorian. He’d always impressed with his calm amphibian manner and efficiency. She was expecting the same.

Loj began the tour, leading her through completed corridors, showing off the idle lavish facilities and introducing staff. It was only when Chameakegra enquired about the date for the facility to be up and running that she began to get the highly aromatic reek of a deceased quiw. Loj began to show signs of agitation and Chameakegra noticed her dousing herself from her hydrating glands. Something was up.

Back in Loj’s office Chameakegra cornered her. ‘Right Loj,’ she demanded, ‘what is going on?’ It came spilling out.

That’s when the real tour began. Roughly hewn corridors, empty rooms, no facilities, Xerc’s standing around with little work being carried out.  It did not take too much to piece it together. They were on a go slow. Loj fired excuse after excuse, unexpected rock formations, instability, cracks, and fissures. None of it made sense and Chameakegra could plainly see Loj’s embarrassment. When asked directly if she was acting on orders from Beheggakegri or Grrndakegra she prevaricated.

Chameakegra returned filled with a seething fury. She had got nowhere and could see that her whole project was being deliberately sabotaged and there was little she could do about it.

Next up were the temporary camps, only intended to house the Hydrans for a short while as they were shuttled off to be treated. She toured the cramped, squalid conditions with their listless inmates, squabbling, infighting and sullen resentment boiling up into hate and fury. Hardly conducive to the rehabilitation she had planned. Nobody could tell her anything. The squalid conditions were a hotbed for everything she was fighting against.

This wasn’t disheartening; this was monumentally horrendous.

Back on the Neff she sat for a moment. Something had to be done. First Booghramakegra. She needed putting in the picture. Quickly her claws rattled across the keyboard filing a report of what she had witnessed along with her suspicions. Then the communicator.

‘Grrndakegra, we need to talk.’ With that she shut down and sat back in her pexi her scutes and crest a deep green sign of outrage.

Chapter 12 – A Reckoning

Ron was a writer, a man who was used to studying people, who was familiar with emotions, psychology and all manner of human behaviour. Understanding character was his trade. But dealing with human beings was one thing; dealing with completely unknown alien reptiles was quite another.

His regular meetings with Chameakegra were beginning to pay dividends. Ron felt that he was beginning to get the measure of her. Despite his initial sense of outrage at feeling he was being used he couldn’t help but start to melt. As he grew more familiar with her mannerisms he began to read her more. What he was becoming more and more certain about was that she was sincere. Slowly his anger melted away to be replaced by a grudging respect. He believed her. He was beginning to be able to read the emotions displayed on her scaly face and interpret the colours that flowed across her skin. He still could not figure out why she had chosen him but, though he kept a small element of doubt alive, he was becoming convinced that she believed what she was saying. She wanted that bright future for them.

That left Ron with a dilemma.

He felt torn.

If Chameakegra believed in him and felt he was the man for the task; if she had a viable vision for the future, one that he could buy into, then wasn’t that worth fighting for? What had he got to lose? Despite the violent scenes he was seeing perhaps it was just as she was saying – a necessary means to an end? Ron was at war with himself but maybe, just maybe it was time to put aside his doubts and fears and fully buy into the dream? That’s what his gut was telling him.

Chameakegra was fuming. Her scutes ran with livid green outrage bleeding into white fury.

Grrndakegra sat back looking supremely relaxed in her pexi. Somehow Chameakegra had kept her composure as she led her through the Neff to her private quarters; she’d even offered her a drink of synth, now Grrndakegra’s total lack of concern was needling her. She had been so sure she could hold it together now she wasn’t so certain after all.

Chameakegra sat opposite Grrndakegra and poured herself a sizeable synth from the servo then sat back, took a deep breath and tried to control her feelings.

Grrndakegra continued to watch her closely, her scutes moving between a thoughtful pink and mauve amusement. She was waiting for what was coming.

‘Where’s this coming from?’ Chameakegra finally asked, fixing Grrndakegra with her flashing green eyes while slowly sipping her synth. ‘It’s Beheggakegri behind this, isn’t it?’

Grrndakegra tried to hide it but Chameakegra noticed a hint of red annoyance creep into Grrndakegra’s scutes.

‘Where’s what coming from?’

Chameakegra glared at Grrndakegra a distinct white rage stealing across her crest.

‘Don’t give me that shit. I’m not stupid. I’ve just come back from the lunar facility after an interesting tour with our friendly Minorian. Loj did her best but she couldn’t hide it forever, could she?’

Grrndakegra sipped her synth and tried to brazen it out. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ her beige scutes displaying a lack of concern.

Chameakegra nodded allowing the white rage to settle over her thorax. It did not hurt for Grrndakegra to know how furious she was. ‘You know exactly what I mean.’ The cold, deliberate delivery gave the words a cutting edge.

Grrndakegra shrugged.

‘I did a tour around the camps,’ Chameakegra continued in measured tone. She left it hanging.

Grrndakegra sipped her synth insolently but Chameakegra could plainly see some yellow annoyance or awkwardness displaying on her scutes. She might feign a lack of concern but inside she was feeling something.

‘Is this some underhand ploy that you and Beheggakegri have dreamed up?’

‘Chameakegra,’ Grrndakegra purred, in a condescending tone, ‘you have to be realistic. These Hydrans are space vermin. They can no more be turned from greed and violence than Beheggakegri can forego his dainties. There’s something deep in their DNA. You’re not going to fix it with all your restructuring and namby-pamby therapy. It runs too deep.’

Chameakegra studied her fellow Giforian with an olive burst of contempt. ‘I never figured you as one of Beheggakegri’s cretinous stooges.

Grrndakegra produced a burst of white anger, like a button had been pressed and some dam inside her head had burst. ‘I’m nobody’s fool and I’m nobody’s stooge,’ she snarled rising to her feet in fury.

Chameakegra stared up at the Giforian towering over her with her crest fully raised and waves of white anger flowing over her scutes. She sipped her synth in a show of indifference while showering the Giforian with disdain, the olive green deepening into a brown shade. ‘That’s exactly what you are.’ The contempt in her voice was thick like cold molasses. ‘You are utterly despicable, worse than that heap of blubber whose anus you are busy licking.’

For a moment it looked as if Grrndakegra, who was now incandescent white from toe to crest, was going to strike her with one of her raised claws. Chameakegra met her gaze and leaned forward, daring her to deliver the blow. ‘You and that piece of drewfus excrement Beheggakegri deserve one another.’

For a moment the claw hung in the air then Grrndakegra turned on her heel, flung the beaker of synth at the wall and stormed out, the portal barely dilating sufficiently to allow her through.

Captain Beefheart – DPRP Martin Burns review – On Track Every Album, Every Song

Opher Goodwin - On Track: Captain Beefheart

info:

 sonicbondpublishing.com

9

Martin Burns

The quote on page 46 from Opher Goodwin’s On Track: Captain Beefheart of the track When Big Joan Sets Up, encapsulates what makes Beefheart special, and at the same time why he remains a niche artist.

“… a great melody that carries it through. It’s meaningless but full of insight, so frenzied that it shouldn’t work, yet it does. It hangs together. That’s what is so great about Beefheart’s music – it pulls you in; the music is complex; the lyrics seem full of meaning, but everything is just beyond one’s grasp. You find yourself hooked. It propels you. It’s visceral. It tugs at the cortex. Rewarding.”

This applies across all of Beefheart’s recordings. Not without the odd exception of course, such as the mid-period ‘commercial’-leaning releases and things like Beefheart’s contribution to Frank Zappa‘s Willie The Pimp on Hot Rats. One of the things I find interesting about these two maverick forces of musical nature (Zappa and Beefheart) is that both went to Antelope Valley High School in the small Californian Mohave desert town of Lancaster. They remained friends on and off after leaving Lancaster; when their monumental artistic egos would allow. With Zappa, being more successful, helping the often-broke Beefheart out.

This is a great addition to Sonicbond Publishing’s ever expanding Every Album, Every Track series. This looks at Captain Beefheart’s studio output as well as the plethora of live releases and bootlegs that have followed since his death in 2010.

Comprehensive and critical where required, self-confessed Beefheart obsessive Opher Goodwin, knows his way around an incisive phrase and sets each of the studio albums into a context of time and place, record company and management shenanigans, and contemporary critical reactions. As well as assessing the various incarnations of the Magic Band, and how well they were able to translate the Captain’s ideas into actual music.

After making his brilliant final album, Ice Cream For Crow (1982), he left music-making on a high point, and turned back to painting. Beefheart, under his own name of Don van Vliet became a renowned abstract expressionist painter, gaining the level of success in the US that had eluded him musically. A happy ending of sorts.

This makes an excellent companion to Mike Barnes’ Captain Beefheart: The Biography (Omnibus Press) where neither shy away from Beefheart’s obsessive and bullying behaviour that were part of his artistic makeup. Opher Goodwin’s On Track: Captain Beefheart is a great guide and companion to this often-challenging artist.

If you’re curious, for me the place to start is with 1978’s Shiney Beast (Bat Chain Puller), but every Beefheart fan will have a different gateway release to recommend.

https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/17cr_WVdWmo

Was Epstein running a Honey Trap for the KGB that ensnared Trump?

Explains a lot.

So according to The Daily Mail Epstein was employed by the KGB to lure the rich and powerful, like Trump, into a honey trap where they were filmed having sex with underage girls. Putin and the KGB then used this to control these powerful men.

Is this why Putin seems to have such a hold on Trump?

Is this why Trump keeps backing Russia instead of Ukraine?

Did Putin contrive to get him elected?

If you look at it through those eyes everything starts to make sense:

Newly unmasked evidence shows who put Trump in the White House | Opinion

Let me guess – Which Epstein files have not been released??

Err – could it be the ones incriminating Trump?

DPRP – Jan Buddenberg review of ‘Rock Classics – Beatles White Album’

8

Jan Buddenberg

If one band needs no further introduction then this must surely be The Beatles. Just mention the names of the Fab Four, their countless timeless compositions, and their groundbreaking Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and Abbey Road albums, and I’m sure many events, other milestone albums and miscellaneous facts involving The Beatles will come flooding back into memory. Surprisingly, for me, this didn’t include their ninth album The Beatles. Their 1968 effort which is best known as The White Album.

Here to make me never forget about this earliest of proto-prog albums comes author Opher Goodwin with his expertly told and in depth reconstructed Rock Classic interpretation on the album.

Living to tell the tale first-hand, Goodwin, aged 19 in 1968, starts of by painting the rural 60s with great cultural insight. And following a sum up of preceding singles (Strawberry Fields ForeverAll You Need Is LoveLady MadonnaHey Jude) and other ventures like the Magical Mystery Tour and Yellow Submarine movies, quickly arrives at the challenges that The Beatles were facing prior and during the recordings of The White Album.

Well researched and comprehensively told with plenty of interesting historic details, Goodwin elaborates on The Beatles’ growing wealth, their new-found spiritualism, the individual marital changes of McCartney and John Lennon (enter Yoko Ono) and the disastrous sudden passing of their manager Brian Epstein which left the band fairly rudderless in approach to The White Album.

Just how directionless becomes perfectly clear in the 50+ pages that Goodwin objectively devotes to The White Album. Loaded with biographical information it is this lengthy chapter that creates a clear understanding towards the gradually forming split between the various Beatles members, and the resulting eclectic/fragmentary (take your pick) outcome of the album.

Sharing all the ins and outs on the making of the album this includes the thoughts behind the album cover, the various lyrical topics, Eric Clapton’s involvement on George Harrison’s composition While My Guitar Gently Weeps, and the many takes done before songs were finally approved for album inclusion. As well as a complete insightful rundown of songs that next to pop songs like Back In The USSR and Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da includes tracks that touch upon such genres as folk, country rock, British blues, proto-metal (Helter Skelter) and the avant-garde (Revolution 9).

Add to this Ringo Starr’s two week Beatles-divorce, Yoko Ono’s studio invasion, the walk out of producers, and the fact that only 16 of the 30 recorded tracks actually included all four Beatles members, and it’s almost a miracle that The White Album was ultimately finalised. Much like the view of critics and listeners who rate the release to be one of the greatest albums of all time.

Successfully teasing readers to further investigate by mentioning demos, outtakes, the excluded album-related gem Not Guilty which they worked on for 102 takes, and related topics such as the Plastic Ono Band  and cult leader/murderer Charles Manson’s obsession with several album songs, I find Goodwin’s substantiated narrative to end somewhat abruptly and not fully rewarding towards my own accumulating curiosity of what happened to The Beatles afterwards. An aspect Goodwin apart from a few words about the album’s legacy doesn’t particularly elaborate upon.

Personal preferences aside: Opher Goodwin’s book does exactly what it is supposed to do. It enthuses willing musical guinea pig readers like myself and those generally interested in music to explore the album. And all together offers a captivating in-depth and well-written analysis of The Beatles’ biggest-selling album to date. Simple conclusion: job well done!

https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/q_ML0xjiBm0

The Beatles: White Album – Rock Classics: Amazon.co.uk: Opher Goodwin: 9781789523331: Books

This made me chuckle!

Trump mentioned 1000s of times in Epstein Files

They spent months redacting and erasing evidence of Trump in the files before releasing some of them. They forgot to redact the identities of the victims!

Even with all that redaction and suppression he is still mentioned thousands of times and there more photos of him with Epstein than me with my family.

Shouldn’t someone investigate?

Rock Routes – 2 – Country Blues

Country Blues

The insistent African beat was imported into the USA along with the captured Blacks destined for a life of slavery in the cotton fields of the Deep South, especially the plantations of the Mississippi Delta which was particularly productive.

African slaves were prevented from carrying on their native traditions and forced to adopt the dress, housing, language, religion and attitudes of their ‘masters’. In particular the use of drums was prohibited. The plantation owners were terrified of an insurrection. They thought that the black slaves could communicate though drumming. They might seek to get organised. However, music was encouraged. It was seen as a harmless recreational outlet. It had its uses in the workplace. Work chants in the field and ‘Shouts’, with songs such as where the song ‘Pick a bale of cotton’ was derived, were useful to promote productiveness. Black musicians even provided entertainment for white plantation owners. It raised morale. The black musicians were introduced to western style instruments – including such instruments as banjos, guitars, harmonicas, pianos, and mandolins – and western style music including hymns, folk songs, country reels and popular ballads. It all went into the mix.

The mix fermented for a hundred years or so before coming together as a distinctive style of music around the turn of the 20th century. It was inevitable. The black musicians had taught themselves the rudiments of western instruments and in so doing had introduced the African beat and rhythms of their African heritage. When this was applied to hymns the end result was Gospel. With Blues it was a little more complicated. The Blues was a name given to a musical form that had a great deal of variety. It evolved differently in different parts of the country. It incorporated the various prevailing musical influences from the black slaves’ environment and distilled it into a new musical style. These influences included Gospel, traditional Folk, Hillbilly country music and popular ballads. When these musical forms amalgamated with the intrinsic African rhythm the result was the 12-bar blues.

In some forms the Blues was seeped in emotion, agonising and soulful, as it attempted to communicate the trials and tribulations of being an oppressed people living in extreme hardship in a tough environment. In this form it often acted as a catharsis for the pent-up frustrations resulting from ill-use and mistreatment. In other forms it told the story of stolen pleasures, of women, violence and drinking that were also part of black man’s everyday life and part of the hardship within which he lived. But the Blues was not always sad. In other forms it was fast and beaty, used as dance music at the country barbeques known as ‘Jukes’. These songs were happy and carefree and reflected the good times when people would get together to eat, drink, dance and have a good time. These ‘Jukes’ would have people playing solo or in little combos known as ‘Jug Bands’. A whole genre of Blues was concerned with risqué songs based on double entendres that were well beyond the normal scope of white music. The Blues was also incorporated into the Spirituals, Gospel and Work songs of the era. A lot of these itinerant musicians would move around, tailoring their repertoire to the occasion or audience. It was not unusual for them to perform a range of Blues styles as well as popular songs and ballads. What was recorded was not always what being played.

The times were hard and musicians tended to choose instruments that were fairly cheap to buy. When they couldn’t afford an instrument they improvised – creating Diddley Bo’s out of nails and piano wire or the side of their wooden shacks, or commandeering washboards, thimbles, spoons or bottles. An early Jug Band, such as Bo Carter’s Mississippi Sheiks or Sleepy John Estes Jug Band, might consist of guitar, mandolin, washboard, jug, harmonica and spoons.

Many of the early Country Blues performers were blind or crippled. There was no welfare. If you couldn’t work the fields you would starve to death. The way out was to become a musician and play the ‘Hollers’ and ‘Shouts’ to accompany the workers in the field, to busk on street corners or play the dives and Jukes. This was how Peg-leg Howell, Blind Boy Fuller, Blind Willie McTell, Blind Sonny Terry and Blind Snooks Eaglin made a living. Others, like Blind Jimmy Johnson augmented their playing by being preachers. It was play or starve.

If you were busking you had to capture an audience. This led to the whole tradition of showmanship that culminated in some of the wild acts of Chicago Blues and Rock ‘n’ Roll and persisted through to Rock Music of today. Tommy Johnson was famous for doing handstands while he played his guitar. Later T-Bone Walker would play his guitar behind his head while doing the splits or walk his guitar round the sage playing it with one hand. It was the sort of stuff that led into Chuck Berry’s duck-walking, Bo Diddley’s square guitars and Screaming Jay Hawkin’s macabre voodoo act.

Unlike most of the sophisticated popular white music of the 30s and 40s, with its ditties and crooning, the Blues was real. It did not try to couch reality in candy or look at the world through rose-tinted view of the world. It spoke of real feelings that hadn’t been sentimentalised and the realities of life bringing, drink, sex and even death out from under the carpet. It was precisely because of this earthiness that contemporary white bourgeoisie audiences found it primitive, vulgar and crude. They saw it with the eyes and ears of their day. It was the decadent music of a primitive race. They condemned it as immoral and of no musical worth. Those same characteristics were what attracted white British youth in the 60s. They saw it as real music.

This music had limited commercial viability though it was recorded, like all music, for profit and not love. It was recorded in tiny converted rooms at the back of record stores and released on small independent ‘Race’ labels that catered for the black population.

This was the age of segregation.

The black population might be poor but they knew how to have a good time and they liked to let their hair down. They had their drinking holes, brothels and even their own radio stations like WKAI in Memphis. Beale street in Memphis and Bourbon Street in New Orleans, like many other black areas were jumping and jiving with Blues and Jazz. The radio stations played ‘The Devil’s Music’ and featured shows hosted by Blues Singers who acted as DJs such as BB King, Sonny Boy Williamson and Howlin’ Wolf. These shows were usually sponsored by commercial businesses who wanted to advertise their goods to the large black market.

There was a wide range of different styles ranging from the barrel-house Boogie Woogie that emanated from the New Orleans brothels, to the finger picking blues runs of the Texas Blues troubadours to the searing slide-guitar style of the Mississippi delta.

In the 1930s the Delta style often used a National Steel Guitar in order to gain volume when playing in the open air without the use of a P.A. It was open chorded and fretted with a slide on the third finger or a penknife or lighter. The slide was sometimes a length of copper tube but often the neck of a bottle – hence the term Bottle-neck guitar. Sliding the bottle up and down the frets created a shrill oscillating note or chord and was perfected by many of the early musicians such as Charlie Patton, Son House and Robert Johnson. This style was to prove extremely successful when amplified by City Blues musicians such as Elmore James and Muddy Waters.

In the 1930s the Country Blues reflected the life of the southern black share-cropper. It dealt with their struggles, pleasures, pains, fears and preoccupations. The Blues, as described by the great Bessie Smith (an early Jazz/Blues singer who frequented the vaudeville circuit), may have been nothing but a ‘low down dirty feelin’ but even when expressed in the most abject hopelessness there was still an underlying strength to it that suggested that just around the corner ‘the sun was gonna shine someday’.

The fact that the Blues rarely expressed any political content or hatred towards their white oppressors was not because it was not there. It was probably because it was extremely dangerous for black people to express those kind of views. The Klu-Klux-Klan was rampant and ‘justice’ was summary and violent. Any blacks who crossed the line were likely to find themselves burnt, raped, hung or castrated. It was no wonder that it was rare to find those sentiments expressed. There were probably many examples of more radical song-writing but they were reserved for private audiences and rarely found themselves preserved on record.

The recorded heritage of Country Blues is the result of numerous sessions in makeshift studios in the back of hotel rooms, shops and even in the open field on very primitive portable recording equipment that often recorded directly on to vinyl. The output of many major artists, such as Blind Willie McTell, is limited to a few sessions and many early recordings and artists were only preserved due to the efforts of an enlightened white man by the name of Alan Lomax. He toured the South hunting out the relatively unknown artists and recording them on his portable equipment. He followed up rumour and tracked them down discovering new talent on the way. Many artists, including Muddy Waters and Son House, have their early recordings and future careers due to Alan Lomax. He preserved their art for posterity.

Many of these brilliant artists died or faded into obscurity before they could ever come to the attention of white audiences but in the 60s many found themselves rediscovered and their careers resurrected. They were suddenly popular on the white college circuit, in Greenwich Village, the Newport Folk Festival and were rapturously received in Europe. Artists like Sleepy John Estes, Blind Willie McTell, Bukka White, Son House, Muddy Waters, Big Joe Williams, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee, John Lee Hooker, Sonny Boy Williamson, James Cotton and a host of others were brought over to Europe on Blues packages. I’m glad they were. It meant I got to see them play at the Hammersmith Odeon. They were old men but they still played with vigour and dynamism. Son House had us all standing on our seats and yelling. Many of these were performing in front of white audiences for the first time and sadly were soon dead. But they had delved back into their repertoires to dig out those gems from the 1930s and 40s and brought them to life. They filled many gaps in our understanding of the Country Blues. It is just a great shame that greats like Robert Johnson, Charlie Patton, Memphis Minnie and Elmore James didn’t live to see that day when they were lauded by white audiences and treated like the talented men and women they were.

Through the limited recording output of these Blues singers we are able to trace the development of this style through the 1920s with artists such as Blind Lemon Jefferson, Texas Alexander, Blind Willie Johnson, and Charlie Patton through to the thirties with Son House, Robert Johnson, Bukka White, Blind Willie McTell, and on to the 1940s with Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, John Lee Hooker, Mississippi John Hurt, Lightnin’ Hopkins before amplification kicked in after the war.

In the 1940s it provided the rhythmical structure that gave rise to many forms of Rhythm & Blues such as Boogie Woogie, City Blues, and Doo-Wop. These were the seminal force behind Rock ‘n’ Roll. In that sense it is possible to view these early exponents of Country Blues, and in particular men like Arthur Big Boy Crudup, Robert Johnson, and Son House as being the founding fathers of Rock ‘n’ Roll.

Where would we be without them?

ArtistStand out tracks
Son HouseDeath letter blues Pearline Delta blues Walking blues The pony blues
Robert JohnsonDust my broom Sweet home Chicago Come on in my kitchen Crossroad blues Love in vain Terraplane blues Walking blues Last fair deal going down Stop breaking down blues Milkcow’s calf blues
Bukka WhiteShake ‘em on down Fixin’ to die blues Parchman Farm blues
Sleepy John EstesOllie blues Broke and hunger Black Mattie The girl I love she got long curly hair
Skip JamesDevil got my woman Hard time killing floor I’m so glad
Big Joe WilliamsBaby please don’t go
Kokomo ArnoldMilk cow blues Busy bootin’ The twelves Salty dog
Bo CarterPig meat is what I crave Banana in your fruit basket What kind of scent is that Don’t mash my digger so deep
Hambone Willie NewbernRollin’ & Tumblin’
Tommy JohnsonCanned heat blues Cool drink of water
Charlie PattonSpoonful blues Shake it and break it High water everywhere
Furry LewisShake em on down
Blind Lemon JeffersonMatch box blues Broke and hungry
Blind Willie McTellStatesboro blues Broke down engine
Blind Willie JohnsonDark was the night cold was the ground You’ll need somebody on your bond Nobody’s fault but mine God moves on the water
Sonny Terry/Brownie McGheeSitting on top of the world Rock Island Line Step it and go
Memphis MinnieChauffer Blues Hot stuff Selling my chops Dirty mother for you Bumble bee blues You dirty mistreater
Peg Leg HowellTishamingo blues
Lightnin HopkinsKatie Mae Let me play with your poodle Blues in the bottle Bottle up and go
Leroy CarrHow long how long blues Mean mistreating Mama
Texas AlexanderLeevee camp moan
Gus CannonYou can’t blame the coloured man
Bessie SmithT’aint nobody’s business if I do Careless love St Louis blues I’m wild about that thing Gimme pigfoot Do your duty
Victoria SpiveyBlack snake blues Dope head blues Organ grinder blues
Lucille BroganShave ‘em dry

Rock Routes: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781514873090: Books

Rock Routes – 1 – Rock ‘n’ Roll Music

Rock ‘n’ Roll Music

Rock ‘n’ Roll is nothing more than black Rhythm & Blues played by white musicians with a bit of Country & Western thrown in for good measure. There are exceptions to this but this definition allows us to see the complicated interwoven relationship that exists between the music that became known as Rock ‘n’ Roll and its black cousin Rhythm ‘n’ Blues. Throughout their short evolution the two styles have become so closely associated that it is almost impossible to distinguish one from the other. Indeed there is a great deal of confusion as to which type of music an artist is playing within the confines of a single performance or album.

Does it matter?

Not really. It only matters if you want to explore the various avenues that lead to the stuff you love.

You might find a few more things to get enthusiastic about.

You may get to understand why you appreciate it.

It is possible to trace the roots of Rock music right back to the 18th and 19th centuries with the introduction of African rhythms and beat to the European Folk Tradition. This was a meeting of spirits that was to reach fruition in the Southern States of America, particularly New Orleans in Louisiana and Memphis Tennessee. It was a merger that first gave rise to Country Blues, Cajun and Gospel. It led to Rhythm ‘n’ Blues, Jazz, Bluegrass, Honky Tonk and Country Boogie. In the early part of the 1950s it gave birth to a vigorous hybrid that came to be known the world over as Rock ‘n’ Roll.

It took the world by storm and altered all our lives. It was a revolution. It was strongly allied to the prevailing youth culture of teenagers that emerged after World War 2.

The very name itself set the whole tone for everything that followed. It was coined by Alan Freed who borrowed it from the black slang for sex. It set generation against generation and rocked the world. It instigated a sexual revolution and social change on unheard of proportions. It upset the prevailing racial and gender attitudes and provoked the move to equality and freedom that prevails today. It set in motion a climate of questioning that altered the deferential way people thought about politicians.

The moment Elvis shook his hips the world would never be the same. Even Elvis did not have a clue that would happen. He was as bemused as everyone else. It took on a life of its own. It was powerful.

To understand where it began and where it went we have to go back to the very beginning. The story of Rock begins with the fusing of the two cultural traditions in the latter part of the 19th century to produce a new type of music that we now refer to as Country Blues. This was first written about by W C Handy who recalls hearing a black musician playing this style of music at the railway station in Tutwiler Mississippi in 1903. He was playing an old guitar by running up and down the frets with a penknife. W C Handy was hearing Country Blues, bottle-neck style, for the first time. He was captivated.

Rock Routes: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781514873090: Books

Rock Routes – The history of Rock Music – The introduction

Introduction

Rock is dead. That is what Jim Morrison proclaimed in 1970. He was wrong.

Rock is alive and well.

Rock as a universal unifying force for Youth Culture is dead. For most young people it would appear that music is incidental to their life. It has become a consumable product to be bought and discarded. For those to whom it is central it has become an easy recognisable cult with dedicated devotees.

It was not always the case.

In the 1950’s, 60’s and 70’s music was the focus for social change. It was the unifying force for fashion, politics, attitude, morality and social perspective. Rock was the vehicle that youth culture rode on. Its influence was universal. Rock ‘n’ Roll, Beat music, Psychedelia and Punk were world-wide phenomena. It is salutary to look back at the 60’s psychedelic phenomena and see long-hair bands complete with kaftans, bell-bottoms and accoutrements springing up all over the world including Peru, Afghanistan, Australia, Tokyo, Brazil, South Africa, Russia and Saudi Arabia. Everyone wanted to be part of the scene. They all wanted to be the Beatles, Stones, Floyd, Hendrix or Doors.

Everything now is controlled by the ‘Biz’ and run for profit.

I guess it was ever thus. It did not seem like it though. It seemed that the music was a revolution that was changing the world. It was made by us and controlled by us. It was not a product. It was an emotional portrayal of how we felt. It was ours, of us, by us and for us.

But then I’ve always been an idealist.

Well – I lived through it all. I’ve seen most of them and got to meet some of them. I have enjoyed a life-time of Rock Music. It has been central to everything I have done. It has affected my philosophy and impinged on every aspect of my life. I’ve lived it.

I am sitting here in 2013 looking forward over the next few weeks to a programme that includes Nick Harper, Roy Harper, The Magic Band, North Mississippi Allstars and Leonard Cohen. Wow! I’m looking forward to it. I’m 64 and still rockin’.

Back in the 1980s I ran an adult education on the history of Rock Music. I had great fun even though it cost me a fortune. My vinyl collection grew exponentially.

This book is an extension of that course. I first wrote a four volume book totalling 1500 pages entitled Rock Strata. It told the whole story of Rock Music through from the early 1900s to 1982. A publisher loved it. He loved my charts. He just thought it was a little too long. He wanted me to cut it down to 200 pages.

This is the rewrite of that attempt!

This book is the history of Rock Music up until 1982. I stopped there. I could have continued but it all rather broke up into fragments. There have been a number of those fragments that I continue to love but others I get frustrated by. I hate overproduced muzac for the hard of thinking. I hate product.

Rock Routes: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781514873090: Books