50s

Album of the Week: Champion Jack Dupree’s Blues From the Gutter (1958)

July 12, 2021 — Leave a comment

“I was born in New Orleans on July 4, 1910. My father and mother were burned up in a fire when I was a kid, and I was sent to an orphanage.”

So begins the life of Champion Jack Dupree, according to the original back cover of Blues From the Gutter. A couple months ago on GSG, Jackson C. Frank told you that blues run the game, and poor Jackson dealt with a devastating fire early on in his life too. But the clearest difference between them is apparent from one glance at their album covers: Frank was a white man from New York, and Dupree was a black man from New Orleans. And it doesn’t get more Bluesy than down at the mouth of the Mississippi.

As a young man in the Depression-era South, Dupree learned piano from his mentor Willie “Drive ‘Em Down” Hall. Playing in clubs for $1.50 an hour, Dupree said he “was lucky to get [even] that”. To make ends meet, Dupree took up boxing, which is how he earned the nickname Champion. “In 1940 I fought my last match,” he said. “It was in Indianapolis and I knocked out Battling Bozo in the tenth round.” Around this time, Dupree started recording for the legendary Okeh label (they had a novelty hit in the 20s with the bizarre “OKeh Laughing Record”), before studio albums really existed.

Dupree plays deeply-rooted Blues, but one thing I really enjoy about him is his sense of humor. “Man, slow down, don’t walk so fast!” are the first words heard on Blues from the Gutter, Dupree’s first album. “Walkin’ Blues” had existed for a couple decades already, but Dupree gave it a stroll. The “Gutter” title likely comes from the inclusion of several songs about drugs. This concept wasn’t totally new, but Dupree certainly possessed a lyrical and vocal dexterity to the subject that stands out among 50s recordings. He demonstrates the two sides to the life of a drug user: “I hung around my friends that smoke reefer, I thought I was doin’ alright… But this dope is killin’ me” he sings on “Can’t Kick the Habit”. Then later, on “Junker’s Blues,” “Oh yes, I’m a junker… but I feel good all the time!”

In terms of the music, it’s tight as can be. Dupree was famously noted as a “Boogie-Woogie” pianist, but this only really comes through clearly on “Nasty Boogie”. It’s great, but I’m glad we get more hard-line blooze on most of the album. The backing band puts in work: that electric guitar on “T.B. Blues” rips, and “Bad Blood” contains a thrilling solo as well. The records wraps up with “Stack-O-Lee”, one of the most covered blues standards out (even The Grateful Dead made it a live staple for some years).

A little Google searching led me to this wonderful video of Champion Jack Dupree playing live in 1990. Starting slowly with “Bring Me Flowers While I’m Living”, the 80 year old Dupree sings with a wry smile, “I can’t use no flowers when I’m dead”. At about the 3:25 mark, none other than Allen Touissant sneaks up behind him and starts playing the piano’s highest keys. Their faces are both shining with joy. A couple minutes later, they’ve moved on to “Shake the Boogie”, and Toussaint takes over on piano while Dupree stands up to dance. Shaking his hips back and forth, he has the crowd in the palm of his hands. Sipping a beer and twinkling the keys away into a finale, the people erupt with applause. “The Champion,” Touissant says, “The Undisputed Champion.”

Listen to Blues From the Gutter on Spotify.

Album of the Week: Ray Charles & Milt Jackson’s Soul Brothers / Soul Meeting (1958)

March 8, 2021 — Leave a comment

I recently rewatched Ray (2004) on HBO, which was fun, since Jaime Foxx is so charismatic and the music is so good. I think I realized this last year watching Fassbinder’s Gods of the Plague (1970), in which the protagonist slow-dances to “Here We Go Again” in one of the best scenes. Indeed, Ray Charles was immensely talented and his discography is full of gems. In 1958 he recorded Soul Brothers with the famed jazz vibraphonist Milt Jackson, AKA Bags.

This collaboration is interesting for a few reasons. For one, there are no vocals, which makes it atypical of Ray’s output and is probably why it’s one of the lesser-known releases in his oeuvre. Additionally, the two musicians decided to play around with different instruments, switching roles occasionally. That’s Ray Charles on saxophone on “Soul Brothers” and “How Long Blues”, where Milt Jackson plays the piano.

Soul Brothers and Soul Meeting were originally released as two different albums, both culled from 1958 sessions with the latter first released in 1961. The reissue combines them and sort of jumbles the track orders: for example “Soul Brothers”, originally the first track on the titular album, is now track 8. No matter – the two albums are quite similar and the relaxed nature of the pieces don’t require much of a formal order.

As I mentioned above, Ray plays the sax here, and he rips it. I especially love “How Long Blues”. Like most of these tracks, it’s in no hurry, but once you do reach Ray’s sax playing about 6 minutes in, it’s well worth the wait. “Blue Funk” has some tight guitar playing (courtesy of Skeeter Best) and groovy vibes from Bags. You can practically smell the smoke wafting out of some southern bar 60 years ago. As a jazzy collab, this is not the most immediate Ray Charles release. But it’s perfect for that laid-back Sunday afternoon vibe.

Listen to Soul Brothers / Soul Meeting on Spotify.

Album of the Week: Frank Sinatra’s Where Are You? (1957)

November 16, 2020 — Leave a comment

Ah, Autumn. The perfect time to wistfully smoke a cigarette while staring into the ground. What’s that Frankie? You’re wondering where she is? Damn man, sorry. Haven’t seen her around. You’ll get over it, bro (probably).

I had a bit of a Sinatra phase this year. Lovely stuff, and it felt appropriate during the lonely summer months of 2020. If you ever felt like you couldn’t see your S.O. because they were in another state and it wasn’t feasible to travel during a global pandemic, or you couldn’t go to your favorite restaurant or see friends for the same reason, don’t worry! Frank understands. He’s been lonely. He’s been through it. He’ll tell you all about it.

Yes, Where Are You? is depressing, but also comforting. Stephen Thomas Erlewine of Allmusic praised its “luxurious sadness”. Want to cry diamond tears on your 24k gold pillow? This is the album for you. As soon as those first string notes open the title track, you’re wrapped up in the sad glory of traditional pop’s greatest singer.

I’ve mentioned this before, but I love music without drums. No drums! And hey, no piano either, so no percussion to be found. Standards become lullabies. But if you’re snoozing by the end of the sublime “Laura”, Sinatra bellowing “New York, NEW YORK!” at the beginning of “Lonely Town” might wake you up. No, this isn’t that New York song. In fact, most of these standards were unfamiliar to me prior to listening. The notable exceptions were also recorded by Miles Davis: “Autumn Leaves”, which Miles performed live frequently in the early 60s, and “There’s No You”, which appeared on the underrated Blue Moods.

Where Gordon Jenkins orchestrated the Where Are You? sessions, the bonus tracks (13-16) were recorded with Nelson Riddle, who conducted two of Frank’s most acclaimed works – In the Wee Small Hours and Sings for Only the Lonely. I’ve read reviews that characterize Jenkins’ arrangements as “dour” and “overwrought” compared to Riddle’s work. Frankly (heh), I can’t tell the difference. Where Are You? sounds lovely to my ears, and it’s perfect for this time of year.

Listen to Where Are You? on Spotify while smoking wistfully.