DEATH LETTER BLUES

Son House was one of the greatest blues singers. Some people don't like the blues, or feel it's too rough and down-home for their sophisticated tastes, but these people are insensitive swine. The blues is feeling, pure and simple, and unless you plan on being an inanimate object like a chair or endtable you'd better start feeling, and the blues is a good place to start. Son House had a hell of a life--spent time in Parchman Farm prison in the 1920s, had serious illnesses, and five wives--at different times, of course. All that bad luck and hard times--all that feeling--went into his music. Listen to Death Letter Blues. Can you feel that?



I got a letter this mornin, how do you reckon it read?
It said, "Hurry, hurry, yeah, your love is dead."
I got a letter this mornin, I say how do you reckon it read?
You know, it said, "Hurry, hurry, how come the gal you love is dead?"

So, I grabbed up my suitcase, and took off down the road.
When I got there she was layin on a coolin board.
I grabbed up my suitcase, and I said and I took off down the road.
I said, but when I got there she was already layin on a coolin board.

Well, I walked up right close, looked down in her face.
Said, the good ole gal got to lay here til the Judgment Day.
I walked up right close, and I said I looked down in her face.
I said the good ole gal, she got to lay here til the Judgment Day.

Looked like there was 10,000 people standin round the buryin ground.
I didn't know I loved her til they laid her down.
Looked like 10,000 were standin round the buryin ground.
You know I didn't know I loved her til they damn laid her down.

Lord, have mercy on my wicked soul.
I wouldn't mistreat you baby, for my weight in gold.
I said, Lord, have mercy on my wicked soul.
You know I wouldn't mistreat nobody, baby, not for my weight in gold.

Well, I folded up my arms and I slowly walked away.
I said, "Farewell honey, I'll see you on Judgment Day."
Ah, yeah, oh, yes, I slowly walked away.
I said, "Farewell, farewell, I'll see you on the Judgment Day."

You know I went in my room, I bowed down to pray.
The blues came along and drove my spirit away.
I went in my room, I said I bowed down to pray.
I said the blues came along and drove my spirit away.

You know I didn't feel so bad, til the good ole sun went down.
I didn't have a soul to throw my arms around...

DYLAN ON DYLAN, REVISITED

This is the second installment of Bob on Bob--the man in his own words. The first post included clips of early Dylan, these later clips are also pretty amazing. (Link to the earlier post here)

People who think Bob Dylan's best work is behind him haven't been paying attention. This artist keeps evolving. Right now he's on a winning streak that should continue with the forthcoming album, Together Through Life, due April 23rd. If the new record is anything like the single, Beyond Here Lies Nothin' (link below), we can expect a smoldering bluesy joint reminiscent of the classic Chess records of Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf.


Dylan performs "Love Sick" at the Grammys when an unexpected idiot jumps onstage to bask in the glow. The man barely fazes Dylan, who has seen it all. This segment was edited strongly for official release. This is the full, unedited version, complete with the "Soy Bomb."



The Interview


Dylan recently spoke with rock critic Bob Flanagan and provided a glimpse into the creative process, the music industry, and his favorite songwriters. Here are a couple excerpts. (Links to the full interview below)

Bill Flanagan: A lot of the acts from your generation seem to be trading on nostalgia. They play the same songs the same way for the last 30 years. Why haven't you ever done that?

Bob Dylan: I couldn't if I tried. Those guys you are talking about all had conspicuous hits. They started out anti-establishment and now they are in charge of the world. Celebratory songs. Music for the grand dinner party. Mainstream stuff that played into the culture on a pervasive level. My stuff is different from those guys. It's more desperate. Daltrey, Townshend, McCartney, the Beach Boys, Elton, Billy Joel. They made perfect records, so they have to play them perfectly ... exactly the way people remember them. My records were never perfect. So there is no point in trying to duplicate them. Anyway, I'm no mainstream artist.

BF: Then what kind of artist are you?

BD: I'm not sure, Byronesque maybe. Look, when I started out, mainstream culture was Sinatra, Perry Como, Andy Williams, Sound of Music. There was no fitting into it then and of course, there's no fitting into it now. Some of my songs have crossed over but they were all done by other singers.


"Cold Irons Bound" on the set of Masked and Anonymous with his loyal band from The Neverending Tour. (full lyrics here)

BF: Who are some of your favorite songwriters?

BD: Buffett I guess. Lightfoot. Warren Zevon. Randy. John Prine. Guy Clark. Those kinds of writers.

BF: What songs do you like of Buffett's?

BD: "Death of an Unpopular Poet." There's another one called "He Went to Paris."

BF: You and Lightfoot go way back.

BD: Oh yeah. Gordo's been around as long as me.

BF: What are your favorite songs of his?

BD: "Shadows," "Sundown," "If You Could Read My Mind." I can't think of any I don't like.

BF: Did you know Zevon?

BD: Not very well.

BF: What did you like about him?

BD: "Lawyers, Guns and Money." "Boom Boom Mancini." Down hard stuff. "Join me in L.A." sort of straddles the line between heartfelt and primeval. His musical patterns are all over the place, probably because he's classically trained. There might be three separate songs within a Zevon song, but they're all effortlessly connected. Zevon was a musician's musician, a tortured one. "Desperado Under the Eaves." It's all in there.

BF: Randy Newman?

BD: Yeah, Randy. What can you say? I like his early songs, "Sail Away," "Burn Down the Cornfield," "Louisiana," where he kept it simple. Bordello songs. I think of him as the Crown Prince, the heir apparent to Jelly Roll Morton. His style is deceiving. He's so laid back that you kind of forget he's saying important things. Randy's sort of tied to a different era like I am.

BF: How about John Prine?

BD: Prine's stuff is pure Proustian existentialism. Midwestern mindtrips to the nth degree. And he writes beautiful songs. I remember when Kris Kristofferson first brought him on the scene. All that stuff about "Sam Stone" the soldier junky daddy and "Donald and Lydia," where people make love from ten miles away. Nobody but Prine could write like that. If I had to pick one song of his, it might be "Lake Marie." I don't remember what album that's on.

(from Flanagan interview, Part 5)


"One Too Many Mornings," live from the Rolling Thunder Tour, 1976. The last day of the tour, playing in the rain, Dylan sings his heart out. "I gaze back to the street, the sidewalk and the sign..."

The rest of the Dylan interview by Bill Flanagan can be read in its entirety here:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part4
Part 5
Now, the final installment, Part 6


"Beyond Here Lies Nothin'" from the forthcoming Dylan album:

BLUES HARP FOR WHAT AILS YOU

Did you catch this story? Researchers have shown that playing the harmonica on a regular basis can help people with chronic lung diseases such as bronchitis and emphysema. The good folks at Memorial Regional Hospital in Hollywood told CBS4's Cynthia Demos it really works and it's fun. The hospital is now offering classes in harmonica for its patients.

According to Science Daily, "The repeated pattern of pushing air from the lungs into the instrument, and then sucking air back into the lungs helps patients learn to control and boost their breathing."

It makes sense. So if you're suffering from bronchitis or emphysema or your mojo just ain't working properly grab your blues harp and play along with Sonny Boy Williamson II, joined here by Otis Spann and Muddy Waters. Get well soon.

LETTER FROM THE WHITE STRIPES

I'm gonna serve it to you
And that ain't what you want to hear,
But thats what Ill do
And the feeling coming from my bones
Says find a home

Here are the White Stripes playing "Seven Nation Army" live on the Grammys, with a great weird intro by Beck. I love this track. I know, it's so ten minutes ago, but I still like this a lot. The riff is killer, and the words are so strange, and if that isn't enough, Jack White switches songs mid-performance to play an electrifying cover of "Death Letter" by Son House. Is that good enough for you? Somebody say yeah!

Eddie James "Son" House, Jr. - 1902-1988
Son House was an important Delta bluesman, and influenced Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters, and played alongside Charlie Patton. He spent hard time in Parchman Farm prison for killing a man in a juke joint who had gone on a shooting spree, wounding House in the leg. After prison, he recorded for Paramount Records, and for Alan Lomax and the Library of Congress. His music lives on.

To hear the original version of "Death Letter" by Son House, please click button.

LIKE A ROLLING STONE #1

McKinley Morganfield, better known as Muddy Waters, shook my hand and offered me a drink. I was working for a tiny newspaper in some jerkwater town, lugging a notebook and tape recorder and camera. His hand felt like iron. I was sent to interview him, but he really interviewed me and I was too young and dumb to know at the time. The man was a genius. My editor was an ass. Square as a box of Apple Jacks. He wondered why this old guy was worth valuable column inches. Just listen to Muddy sing "Rollin' Stone." Can you dig this?