Difference between revisions of "Anarchy 51/Blues in the Archway Road"
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− | <div style="text-align:justify;">{{sc|Look­ing at the post­ers that lit­ter the side streets}} of cent­ral and sub­urban {{w|London}}, one might be for­given for as­sum­ing that the {{w|Blues}} was cre­ated by a post{{h}}{{w|Al­der­mas­ton|Aldermaston_Marches}} gen­er­a­tion of art stu­dents rather than by the af­flic­ted {{w|negro|African_Americans}} pop­u­la­tion of the {{w|American|United_States}} {{w|Deep South|Deep_South}}. The post­ers ad­vert­ise {{sc|au­then­tic {{w|Rhythm ’n’ blues|Rhythm_and_blues}}}} by groups which play a vari­ety of | + | <div style="text-align:justify;">{{sc|Look­ing at the post­ers that lit­ter the side streets}} of cent­ral and sub­urban {{w|London}}, one might be for­given for as­sum­ing that the {{w|Blues}} was cre­ated by a post{{h}}{{w|Al­der­mas­ton|Aldermaston_Marches|Aldermaston Marches}} gen­er­a­tion of art stu­dents rather than by the af­flic­ted {{w|negro|African_Americans|African Americas}} pop­u­la­tion of the {{w|American|United_States|United States}} {{w|Deep South|Deep_South|Deep South}}. The post­ers ad­vert­ise {{sc|au­then­tic {{w|Rhythm ’n’ blues|Rhythm_and_blues|Rhythm and blues}}}} by groups which play a vari­ety of music—some {{w|Pop|Pop_music|Pop music}}{{h}}ori­ented, some {{w|Folk|Folk_music|Folk music}}{{h}}ori­ented, some {{w|Jazz}}{{h}}ori­ented but largely de­rived from the music of the more sen­sa­tional {{w|col­oured|Person_of_color|Person of color}} en­ter­tain­ers of the {{w|USA|United_States|United States}}, like {{w|Chuck Berry|Chuck_Berry|Chuck Berry}}, {{w|Bo Diddley|Bo_Diddley|Bo Diddley}}, {{w|James Brown|James_Brown|James Brown}} and {{w|T-Bone Walker|T-Bone_Walker|T-Bone Walker}}. Of the 2,000 or more groups work­ing the mul­ti­tude of large and small {{w|clubs|Nightclub|Nightclub}}, no more than two dozen are in any way ori­ginal, even in pop{{h}}music terms, and even these are root­less shad­ows of the sing­ers on whose ma­ter­ial they draw. The dif­fer­ence be­tween the blues of mod­ern Amer­ica and the {{qq|blues}} of mod­ern {{w|Britain|United_Kingdom|United Kingdom}} is the dif­fer­ence be­tween music which is an au­then­tic ra­cial ex­pres­sion and music which is an ex­pres­sion of no more than a lik­ing for the au­then­tic form. |
− | {{tab}}The ori­gins of {{w|British {{qq|blues}}|British_blues}} are far from clear. Their sem­inal genius may have been {{w|Muddy Waters|Muddy_Waters}} who toured Britain in 1958 but it was not until March, 1962, when the har­mon­ica player {{w|Cyril Davies|Cyril_Davies}} and the guitar­ist {{w|Alexis Korner|Alexis_Korner}} opened the first of the | + | {{tab}}The ori­gins of {{w|British {{qq|blues}}|British_blues|British blues}} are far from clear. Their sem­inal genius may have been {{w|Muddy Waters|Muddy_Waters}} who toured Britain in 1958 but it was not until March, 1962, when the har­mon­ica player {{w|Cyril Davies|Cyril_Davies}} and the guitar­ist {{w|Alexis Korner|Alexis_Korner}} opened the first of the clubs—next door to the {{w|ABC Teashop|Aerated_Bread_Company|Aerated Bread Company}} off {{w|Ealing Broad­way|Ealing|Ealing}}—that the {{qq|boom}} really had its be­gin­nings. Korner and Davies played mainly {{popup|pre-war|The United States formally joined World War II in December 1941.}} blues of the negro night clubs of urban Amer­ica. Once they had their own stage the {{qq|boom}} gathered in {{w|Cent­ral London|Central_London|Central London}}, at­tract­ing a young audi­ence in re­ac­tion against a par­tic­u­larly en­feebled pop music—this was the hey{{h}}day of {{w|Cliff Rich­ard|Cliff_Richard}}. The Band—known as {{w|Alexis Korner{{s}} Blues In­cor­por­ated|Alex_Korner's_Blues_Incorporated}}—had the now fa­mil­iar line{{h}}up of har­mon­ica, gui­tars and drums and if it was un­ex­it­ing com­pared with its {{w|Chicago|Chicago_blues|Chicago blues}} par­ent it had, at least, a rhythmic earthi­ness and an emo­tional di­rect­ness which had been com­pletely ab­sent from pop music since the de­mise of {{w|rock ’n’ roll|Rock_and_roll|Rock and roll}} in the late ’50s. |
− | {{tab}}By the end of 1962 the {{w|Beatles|The_Beatles}} had had their first small hit, ''{{w|Love Me Do|Love_Me_Do}}'', fea­tur­ing the ma­gical com­bin­a­tion of har­mon­ica, gui­tars and drums, and the {{w|Roll­ing Stones|The_Rolling_Stones}} were mak­ing their early pub­lic ap­pear­ances at Ealing and else­where. In Janu­ary, 1963 the Stones ap­peared for the first time at the ''{{w|Marquee|Marquee_Club}}''. The {{w|bill|Billing_(performing_arts)}} was topped by {{p|130}}{{l | + | {{tab}}By the end of 1962 the {{w|Beatles|The_Beatles|The Beatles}} had had their first small hit, ''{{w|Love Me Do|Love_Me_Do}}'', fea­tur­ing the ma­gical com­bin­a­tion of har­mon­ica, gui­tars and drums, and the {{w|Roll­ing Stones|The_Rolling_Stones|The Rolling Stones}} were mak­ing their early pub­lic ap­pear­ances at Ealing and else­where. In Janu­ary, 1963 the Stones ap­peared for the first time at the ''{{w|Marquee|Marquee_Club|Marquee Club}}''. The {{w|bill|Billing_(performing_arts)|Billing}} was topped by {{p|130}}{{l|Brian Knight|https://www.theguardian.com/news/2001/dec/06/guardianobituaries|British guitarist, 1939–2001
link: obituary in The Guardian}}{{s}} Blues{{h}}by{{h}}six and the Stones earned £2 each as the fill{{h}}in group. By March the Stones had moved on—to the fringe of pop suc­cess—and their place was taken by another group from Ealing, the Mann-Hugg Blues Brothers, later to be re{{h}}named {{w|Manfred Mann|Manfred_Mann}}. By the time the Stones had their first small hit, ''{{w|Come On|Come_On_(Chuck_Berry_song)}}'', in the summer of 1963 (only enough to earn them 83rd pos­i­tion in the 1963 ''{{w|New Mu­sical Ex­press|NME|NME}}'' {{w|Points Table|Record_chart|Record chart}}, equal with {{w|Sammy Davis|Sammy_Davis_Jr.|Sammy Davis Jr.}}, {{w|Frank Sinatra|Frank_Sinatra}}, {{w|Ken Dodd|Ken_Dodd}} and Chuck Berry) r {{a}}n{{a}} b was freely tipped as the next pop craze.<br /> |
− | {{tab}}It seems to have hap­pened for much the same reason as rock ’n’ roll ten years earlier: a teen­age re­ac­tion to the sickly gut­less­ness of ortho­dox pop. Its suc­cess has led to ex­traordin­ary re­sults. The Cliff Rich­ard pop image of tidy, boy{{h}}next{{h}}door {{w|Chris­tian­ity|Religion_in_the_United_Kingdom#Christianity}}, has been re­placed by a styl­ised image of rough{{h}} | + | {{tab}}It seems to have hap­pened for much the same reason as rock ’n’ roll ten years earlier: a teen­age re­ac­tion to the sickly gut­less­ness of ortho­dox pop. Its suc­cess has led to ex­traordin­ary re­sults. The Cliff Rich­ard pop image of tidy, boy{{h}}next{{h}}door {{w|Chris­tian­ity|Religion_in_the_United_Kingdom#Christianity|Religion in the United Kingdom: Christianity}}, has been re­placed by a styl­ised image of rough{{h}}living—beards, long hair, defi­ant non­chal­ance and an in­co­her­ent, un­ar­tic­u­lated curse against con­form­ity. The new image may be as un­real as the old but it is a great deal more toler­able. It is a cliché to ob­serve that pop music is a ma­jor field for the ex­ploit­a­tion and ma­nip­u­la­tion of young people, gener­at­ing re­spect for false values and poor stand­ards, ex­ploit­ing dis­satis­fac­tion to turn young people in on them­selves rather than out on so­ci­ety, serving the func­tion ascribed by {{w|Marx|Karl_Marx|Karl Marx}} to re­li­gion, that of an {{qq|opi­ate of the people}}. It would be un­real­istic to claim that r ’n’ b has altered this deeply en­grained pop{{h}}cul­tural pat­tern but it may have dented it. Since the suc­cess of the Beatles—re­corded not be­cause they might be made into stars but be­cause they ''already were'' local stars—teen­agers have shown a gradu­ally in­creas­ing in­de­pend­ence of the will of re­cord com­pan­ies. {{w|Mersey­beat|Beat_music|Beat music}} and r ’n’ b—or at any rate the {{w|local vari­ant|British_rhythm_and_blues|British rhythm and blues}} on the Amer­ican theme—were cre­ated by teen­agers for them­selves and al­though the com­pan­ies have ex­ploited this music, they have had their urual role, that of ''cre­ating'' stars, stolen from them by teen­agers. This has been a tend­ency rather than a de­cis­ive trend but it may rep­res­ent the first steps of teen­agers to free them­selves of the para­sites who live off them and their en­thu­si­asms. It is not just that the qual­ity of the music is bet­ter, al­though I be­lieve it is (com­pare the Beatle{{s|r}} ''{{w|I{{m}} a Loser|I'm_a_Loser}}'' or Manfred Mann{{s}} ''{{w|I{{m}} Your King­pin|The_Five_Faces_of_Manfred_Mann|The Five Faces of Manfred Mann}}'' with {{w|Adam Faith|Adam_Faith}}{{s}} {{w|''What Do You Want''?|What_Do_You_Want?_(Adam_Faith_song)|What Do You Want?}} or Cliff Rich­ard{{s}} ''{{w|The Young Ones|The_Young_Ones_(song)}}'') but that the re­la­tion­ships be­tween stars and audi­ences have changed. The new stars are ''of'' their pub­lic, neither pat­ron­ising nor stu­pid. They are ir­rev­er­ent, they smoke, they drink, they be­have with a nat­ur­al­ness which would have earned them noth­ing but abuse ten years ago and they are ar­tic­u­late spokes­men for the teen­age thing as well as for their music. The new stars are not held in awe ex­cept by the very young. The club{{h}}goer knows that re­cords are poor im­it­a­tions of club per­form­ances, that re­cord suc­cess leads to noth­ing so much as the di­lu­tion of a group{{s}} {{qq|sound}} in an en­deav­our to court gen­eral pop­ular­ity. It is, in short, doubt­ful whether the com­pan­ies have ever held so little sway over the {{w|avant garde|Avant-garde|Avant-garde}} {{qq|popnik}}. Most young people listen to noth­ing but pop music and within this con­text the in­fu­sion of some blues{{h}}form into pop music is ex­tremely wel­come. Even in the hands of white sing­ers it has in­tro­duced into a sadly ail­ing pop cul­ture some ele­ments of an in­fin­itely richer ''folk'' cul­ture {{p|131}}and some ele­ments of a less cor­rupted ''pop'' cul­ture—the music of Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry and James Brown still ex­presses some­thing of the agony of negro life as well as the enorm­ous sur­ging vi­tal­ity and new op­tim­ism of the {{w|Northern|Northern_United_States|Northern United States}} {{w|ghet­toes|American_ghettos|American ghettos}}. British blues is primar­ily a {{w|dance music|Dance_music|Dance music}} and if it is im­pure it has, at least, an en­thu­si­asm which is pos­it­ively damning to in­hib­i­tion. In the clubs there is a new vigour. |
− | {{tab}}Kenneth Rexroth once argued that jazz is a re­volu­tion­ary music only in­so­far as it is con­du­cive to erot­i­cism in dan­cing. The same might apply to British r ’n’ b. Today{{s}} audi­ences are act­ive and the groups, who still play for the crit­ical club audi­ences rather than the eas­ily pleased pop {{qq|con­cert}} audi­ences, must make people want to dance. The mod­ern dances are not {{w|set pat­tern dances|Ballroom_dance}}. The {{w|Shake|The_Shake_(dance)}}, the {{w|Dog|Frug_(dance)}}, the {{w|Jerk|Jerk_(dance)}} are dances for crowded rooms, im­pro­vised round a basic pat­tern, and the groups must be able to im­pro­vise to provide vari­ety. In the clubs, for ex­ample, Manfred Mann have played num­bers like {{w|Cannon­ball Adder­ley|Cannonball_Adderley}}{{s}} ''{{w|Sack O{{a}} Woe|The_Cannonball_Adderley_Quintet_at_the_Lighthouse}}'' and their ori­ | + | {{tab}}Kenneth Rexroth once argued that jazz is a re­volu­tion­ary music only in­so­far as it is con­du­cive to erot­i­cism in dan­cing. The same might apply to British r ’n’ b. Today{{s}} audi­ences are act­ive and the groups, who still play for the crit­ical club audi­ences rather than the eas­ily pleased pop {{qq|con­cert}} audi­ences, must make people want to dance. The mod­ern dances are not {{w|set pat­tern dances|Ballroom_dance|Ballroom dance}}. The {{w|Shake|The_Shake_(dance)|The Shake}}, the {{w|Dog|Frug_(dance)|Frug}}, the {{w|Jerk|Jerk_(dance)|Jerk}} are dances for crowded rooms, im­pro­vised round a basic pat­tern, and the groups must be able to im­pro­vise to provide vari­ety. In the clubs, for ex­ample, Manfred Mann have played num­bers like {{w|Cannon­ball Adder­ley|Cannonball_Adderley}}{{s}} ''{{w|Sack O{{a}} Woe|The_Cannonball_Adderley_Quintet_at_the_Lighthouse|The Cannonball Adderley Quintet at the Lighthouse}}'' and their ori­ginal—natur­ally enough never re­corded—''Packet of Three'', which in­volved viol­ent cli­maxes and sud­den cliff{{h}}hang­ing breaks in the rhythm. {{w|Graham Bond|Graham_Bond}} and {{w|Brian Auger|Brian_Auger}}, re­cruits from mod­ern jazz, and {{w|Georgie Fame|Georgie_Fame}}, a re­cruit from rock {{a}}n{{a}} roll, play in much the same man­ner and now that in­stru­ment­a­tion is veer­ing away from har­mon­icas and gui­tars, to saxes, flutes, organs and pianos it is these lat­ter groups who may really come into their own. |
− | {{tab}}If the new music is dif­fer­ent, so are the new stars. Many of them are strange pop idols. {{w|Keith Relf|Keith_Relf}}, leader of the {{w|Yard­birds|The_Yardbirds}}, was a {{w|Beat|Beatnik}} before he made a liv­ing by sing­ing and so was {{w|Rod the Mod Stewart|Rod_Stewart}}, pos­sibly the best vo­cal­ist to emerge from the {{qq|boom}}. (Rod Stewart was also an In­ter­na­tional Am­a­teur {{w|foot­baller|Association_football}}.) Many groups ''look'' Beat; tired, worn and weary with the bum{{s}} slouch­ing walk. In­deed the myth­o­logy of the r {{a}}n{{a}} b clubs is the myth­o­logy of the angry, dishev­elled re­ject of ortho­doxy, the pro­test­ing bum. The {{w|Pretty Things|Pretty_Things}}, the most beat{{h}}look­ing of all, sing: {{qq|I{{m}} on my own, just wanna roam/<wbr>I{{ll}} tell you man, don{{t}} wanna home/<wbr>I wander roun{{a}} feet off the groun{{a}}/<wbr>Dig­ging sounds from town to town/<wbr>I say I think this life is grand/<wbr>I say, I dig it man, don{{t}} bring me down, man/<wbr>{{w|Don{{t}} bring me down|Don't_Bring_Me_Down_(The_Pretty_Things_song)}} {{tab}}I met this chick the other day/<wbr>Then to me she said she{{ll}} stay/<wbr>I got this pad just like a cave/<wbr>And then we have a little rave/<wbr>And now I{{m}} lying on ground/<wbr>My head is spin­ning round, don{{t}} bring me down man/don{{t}} bring<!-- 'bringe'' in original --> me down}}. | + | {{tab}}If the new music is dif­fer­ent, so are the new stars. Many of them are strange pop idols. {{w|Keith Relf|Keith_Relf}}, leader of the {{w|Yard­birds|The_Yardbirds|The Yardbirds}}, was a {{w|Beat|Beatnik|Beatnik}} before he made a liv­ing by sing­ing and so was {{w|Rod the Mod Stewart|Rod_Stewart|Rod Stewart}}, pos­sibly the best vo­cal­ist to emerge from the {{qq|boom}}. (Rod Stewart was also an In­ter­na­tional Am­a­teur {{w|foot­baller|Association_football|Association football}}.) Many groups ''look'' Beat; tired, worn and weary with the bum{{s}} slouch­ing walk. In­deed the myth­o­logy of the r {{a}}n{{a}} b clubs is the myth­o­logy of the angry, dishev­elled re­ject of ortho­doxy, the pro­test­ing bum. The {{w|Pretty Things|Pretty_Things|Pretty Things}}, the most beat{{h}}look­ing of all, sing: {{qq|I{{m}} on my own, just wanna roam/<wbr>I{{ll}} tell you man, don{{t}} wanna home/<wbr>I wander roun{{a}} feet off the groun{{a}}/<wbr>Dig­ging sounds from town to town/<wbr>I say I think this life is grand/<wbr>I say, I dig it man, don{{t}} bring me down, man/<wbr>{{w|Don{{t}} bring me down|Don't_Bring_Me_Down_(The_Pretty_Things_song)|Don{{a}}t Bring Me Down}} {{tab}}I met this chick the other day/<wbr>Then to me she said she{{ll}} stay/<wbr>I got this pad just like a cave/<wbr>And then we have a little rave/<wbr>And now I{{m}} lying on ground/<wbr>My head is spin­ning round, don{{t}} bring me down man/don{{t}} bring<!-- 'bringe'' in original --> me down}}. |
− | {{tab}}Other sing­ers too have strange pasts. {{w|John Mayall|John_Mayall}}, leader of one of the most vigor­ous groups, the {{w|Blues­break­ers|John_Mayall_&_the_Bluesbreakers}}, lived in a {{w|tree top house|Tree_house}}. {{w|Manfred Mann (sin­gu­lar)|Manfred_Mann_(musician)}} was {{w|clas­sic­ally trained|Classical_music}} at {{w|Juilliard<!-- 'Juillard' in original -->|Juilliard_School}} in the USA and is, even now, more than a little odd by pop stand­ards. The whole Mann group took one man{{s}} name but in­sist that they have no leader, that lead­er­ship is re­dund­ant and re­spons­ib­il­ity shared and equal. It may have some­thing to do with the fact that their vo­cal­ist {{w|Paul Jones|Paul_Jones_(singer)}} was once a mem­ber of the {{w|Oxford|University_of_Oxford}} {{w|Com­mit­tee of 100|Committee_of_100_(United_Kingdom)}} and is, ap­par­ently, still a ''{{w|Tribune|Tribune_(magazine)}}'' con­trib­utor. The {{w|Anim­als|The_Animals}}, prob­ably the best pop{{h}}r {{a}}n{{a}} b group, emerged from the strange {{w|North East|North_East_England}} phe­nomenon of {{qq|anim­als}}, young people who spent the week­ends away from their bour­geois homes, on cheap trans­port, living {{qq|rough}}. (In the {{w|South|Southern_England}} they might have earned the de­ris­ive epi­thet {{qq|week­end ravers}}.) | + | {{tab}}Other sing­ers too have strange pasts. {{w|John Mayall|John_Mayall}}, leader of one of the most vigor­ous groups, the {{w|Blues­break­ers|John_Mayall_&_the_Bluesbreakers|John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers}}, lived in a {{w|tree top house|Tree_house|Tree house}}. {{w|Manfred Mann (sin­gu­lar)|Manfred_Mann_(musician)|Manfred Mann (musician)}} was {{w|clas­sic­ally trained|Classical_music|Classical music}} at {{w|Juilliard<!-- 'Juillard' in original -->|Juilliard_School|Juilliard School}} in the USA and is, even now, more than a little odd by pop stand­ards. The whole Mann group took one man{{s}} name but in­sist that they have no leader, that lead­er­ship is re­dund­ant and re­spons­ib­il­ity shared and equal. It may have some­thing to do with the fact that their vo­cal­ist {{w|Paul Jones|Paul_Jones_(singer)}} was once a mem­ber of the {{w|Oxford|University_of_Oxford|University of Oxford}} {{w|Com­mit­tee of 100|Committee_of_100_(United_Kingdom)}} and is, ap­par­ently, still a ''{{w|Tribune|Tribune_(magazine)|Tribune (magazine)}}'' con­trib­utor. The {{w|Anim­als|The_Animals|The Animals}}, prob­ably the best pop{{h}}r {{a}}n{{a}} b group, emerged from the strange {{w|North East|North_East_England|North East England}} phe­nomenon of {{qq|anim­als}}, young people who spent the week­ends away from their {{p|132}}bour­geois homes, on cheap trans­port, living {{qq|rough}}. (In the {{w|South|Southern_England|Southern England}} they might have earned the de­ris­ive epi­thet {{qq|week­end ravers}}.) |
− | {{tab}}Most of the r {{a}}n{{a}} b groups who have had hits have done so with num­bers which were not r {{a}}n{{a}} b num­bers. The Stones made a brave at­tempt with the slow blues, ''{{w|Little Red Rooster|Little_Red_Rooster}}'', but most of their hits were white pop in | + | {{tab}}Most of the r {{a}}n{{a}} b groups who have had hits have done so with num­bers which were not r {{a}}n{{a}} b num­bers. The Stones made a brave at­tempt with the slow blues, ''{{w|Little Red Rooster|Little_Red_Rooster}}'', but most of their hits were white pop in origin—''{{w|Not Fade Away|Not_Fade_Away_(song)}}'', a {{w|Buddy Holly|Buddy_Holly}} num­ber, ''{{w|It{{s}} All Over Now|It's_All_Over_Now}}'', ori­gin­ally re­corded by the {{w|C & C Boys|Clarence_Carter|Clarence Carter}} in Amer­ica, a {{w|country{{h}}and{{h}}western|Country_music|Country music}} type num­ber, ''{{w|I Wanna Be Your Man|I_Wanna_Be_Your_Man}}'' was by {{w|Lennon|John_Lennon|John Lennon}} and {{w|McCartney|Paul_McCartney|Paul McCartney}} and ''{{w|The Last Time|The_Last_Time_(Rolling_Stones_song)}}'' was writ­ten by them­selves al­though it is re­min­is­cent of the {{w|Staple Singers|The_Staple_Singers|The Staple Singers}}{{a}} ''This May Be My<!-- 'the' in original --> Last Time''. Manfred Mann re­corded pop num­bers, {{w|non­sense songs|Nonsense_song|Nonsense song}} and a {{w|ballad|Sentimental_ballad|Sentimental ballad}}. Georgie Fame had a big hit with ''{{w|Yeh, Yeh|Yeh,_Yeh}}'', a soph­ist­ic­ated {{w|Lam­bert|Dave_Lambert_(American_jazz_vocalist)|Dave Lambert}}{{h}}{{w|Hend­ricks|Jon_Hendricks|Jon Hendricks}}{{h}}{{w|Bavan|Yolande_Bavan|Yolande Bavan}} {{w|{{qq|cool}} jazz|Cool_jazz|Cool jazz}} vocal with little blues con­tent. (Sig­ni­fic­antly his fol­low up ''In the Mean­time'', in the same vein, did not do so well, dash­ing the hopes of those who thought Fame rep­res­ented some sort of com­mer­cial break­through for {{w|soul{{h}}jazz|Soul_jazz|Soul jazz}}.) The Anim­al{{s|r}} big hit, {{w|House of the Ris­ing Sun|The_House_of_the_Rising_Sun|The House of the Rising Sun}}, was a folk song. Other groups have either re­corded and wrecked blues clas­sics or con­cen­trated on mono­ton­ously con­trived and un­vary­ingly dis­mal ver­sions of Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley num­bers, the staple diet of the un­in­vent­ive. With their own ma­ter­ial they are rarely con­vin­cing; au­then­tic ma­ter­ial they wreck by an ap­par­ent in­com­pre­hen­sion of what they sing. In the clubs they are usu­ally bet­ter and to hear British r {{a}}n{{a}} b, with all its un­deni­able ex­cite­ment and all its un­deni­able, over­all me­diocrity, it is ne­ces­sary to visit the clubs. |
− | {{tab}}There are clubs all over the coun­try. In London there is the ''{{w|Flamingo|The_Flamingo_Club}}'', once ''the'' mod­ern jazz centre, with its large, lively and crit­ical audi­ence, many of whom are {{w|West Indian|British_African-Caribbean_people}}; ''{{w|Klook{{s}} Kleek|Klooks_Kleek}}'' in {{w|West Hamp­stead|West_Hampstead}} (the name a give{{h}}away of its mod­ern jazz {{w|ori­gins|Klook's_Clique}}); the ''{{w|Craw­daddys|Crawdaddy_Club}}'' at {{w|Rich­mond|Richmond,_London}} and {{w|Croy­don|Broad_Green,_London}}; ''Blues­ville Har­ringay'' at {{w|Manor House|Manor_House,_London}}; ''Club Noreik'' at {{w|Tot­ten­ham|Tottenham}} and many, many more. In {{w|Southamp­ton|Southampton}} there is ''Club Con­cord'', in {{w|Man­chester|Manchester}} the ''{{w|Twisted Wheel|Twisted_Wheel_Club}}'', in {{w|Guild­ford|Guildford}} and {{w|Windsor|Windsor,_Berkshire}} the ''{{w|Ricky Ticks| | + | {{tab}}There are clubs all over the coun­try. In London there is the ''{{w|Flamingo|The_Flamingo_Club|The Flamingo Club}}'', once ''the'' mod­ern jazz centre, with its large, lively and crit­ical audi­ence, many of whom are {{w|West Indian|British_African-Caribbean_people|British African–Caribbean people}}; ''{{w|Klook{{s}} Kleek|Klooks_Kleek|Klooks Kleek}}'' in {{w|West Hamp­stead|West_Hampstead}} (the name a give{{h}}away of its mod­ern jazz {{w|ori­gins|Klook's_Clique|Klook{{s}} Clique}}); the ''{{w|Craw­daddys|Crawdaddy_Club|Crawdaddy Club}}'' at {{w|Rich­mond|Richmond,_London|Richmond, London}} and {{w|Croy­don|Broad_Green,_London|Broad Green, London}}; ''Blues­ville Har­ringay'' at {{w|Manor House|Manor_House,_London|Manor House, London}}; ''Club Noreik'' at {{w|Tot­ten­ham|Tottenham}} and many, many more. In {{w|Southamp­ton|Southampton}} there is ''Club Con­cord'', in {{w|Man­chester|Manchester}} the ''{{w|Twisted Wheel|Twisted_Wheel_Club|Twisted Wheel Club}}'', in {{w|Guild­ford|Guildford}} and {{w|Windsor|Windsor,_Berkshire|Windsor, Berkshire}} the ''{{w|Ricky Ticks|Ricky-Tick|Ricky-Tick}}''. The out­land­ish­ness of their names is only equalled by the names of the groups who play in them. Some take their names from song titles—the {{w|Roll­ing Stones|Rollin'_Stone|Rollin{{a}} Stone (song)}}, the {{w|Hoochie Coochie Men|Hoochie_Coochie_Man||1964–65 band with Long John Baldry, Rod Stewart, and Geoff Bradford
Wikipedia: Hoochie Coochie Man (song)}}, the {{w|Pretty Things|Pretty_Thing|Pretty Thing (song)}}, the {{w|Thunder­birds|Thunderbird_(Willis_Jackson_album)||1963–68 band with Chris Farlowe and Bob Taylor
Wikipedia: Thunderbird (song)}}, the {{w|Dis­satis­fieds|Down_and_Out_Blues||1964 band who played at the Marquee Club
Wikipedia: Dissatisfied (song)}}. Others bor­row other singer{{s|r}}<!-- 'singer's' in original --> names—the {{w|T-Bones|T-Bone_Walker||1963–66 band with Gary Farr
Wikipedia: T-Bone Walker}}, the {{w|Bo Street Run­ners|The_Bo_Street_Runners|The Bo Street Runners}}. Some use names which seem to sound good—the {{l|Au­then­tics|https://jppsessionman.jimdofree.com/john-williams/|1963–64 band with John Williams, Berne Williams, and Jimmy Page
link: Jimmy Page fan site}}, the {{l|Soul Agents|https://www.allmusic.com/artist/soul-agents-mn0000428542/biography|Allmusic: The Soul Agents}}, the {{w|Delta Five|Nick_Simper|Nick Simper}}, {{l|Hog­snort<!-- 'Hogsnot' in original --> Rupert|https://www.collectorsweekly.com/articles/ricky-tick/|Hogsnort Rupert and the Good Good Band, fronted by Bob McGrath
link: Collectors Weekly article}}, the {{l|Loose{{h}}ends|https://garagehangover.com/the-loose-ends/|1964–67 band with Alan Marshall, Rick Marshall, Roy Davies, Peter Kirtley, and Alan Whitehead
link: Garage Hangover}}, the {{w|Down­liner{{s|r}} Sect|Downliners_Sect|Downliners Sect}}. The British blues has its ac­know­ledged {{qq|ori­gin­als}}, as does negro blues. The more hip fans talk as rev­er­ently of Alexis Korner, Cy Davies and even {{w|George Melly|George_Melly}}, as blues en­thu­si­asts of {{w|Son House|Son_House}}, {{w|Charlie Pat­ton|Charley_Patton|Charley Patton}} or {{w|Rob­ert John­son|Robert_Johnson}}. The lead­ing star of this old elite is {{w|Long John Baldry|Long_John_Baldry}} who was a vocal­ist{{h}}tam­bourin­ist with Cyril Davie{{s|r}} {{w|All{{h}}Stars|All-Stars_(band)|All-Stars}} (formed, from {{w|Scream­ing Lord Sutch|Screaming_Lord_Sutch}}{{s}} former back­ing group, the {{w|Sav­ages|Screaming_Lord_Sutch_and_the_Savages|Screaming Lord Sutch and the Savages}}, after Davie{{s|r}} break with Korner) and took over the band, chan­ging its name to the Hoochie Coochie Men when Davies died, late in 1963. Baldry has an envi­able repu­ta­tion, earned partly be­cause he is con­vinced of his own value and {{p|133}}partly be­cause most groups are very poor, which has en­abled him to break at­tend­ance re­cords set by more ap­par­ently suc­cess­ful groups like the Roll­ing Stones. He is a pass­able singer, clever but un­moving. The sort of bore­dom he in­duces has often been thought a sign of au­then­ti­city. |
+ | |||
+ | {{tab}}Over the last eighteen months there has been a steady stream of real blues­men to this coun­try, among them {{w|Big Joe Wil­liams|Big_Joe_Williams}}, {{w|Sleepy John Estes|Sleepy_John_Estes}}, {{w|Light­ning Hop­kins|Lightnin'_Hopkins|Lightnin{{a}} Hopkins}}, {{w|John Lee Hooker|John_Lee_Hooker}} and the un­ques­tioned genius of in­stru­mental blues, the har­mon­icist {{w|Little Walter Jacobs|Little_Walter|Little Walter}}. While it re­mains sadly true that local white sing­ers are pre­ferred to the {{qq|ori­gin­als}}, it is al­most en­tirely due to the pro­pa­ganda ef­forts of the white mu­si­cians that we have been able to see the genu­ine art­icle at all. People like {{w|Mick Jagger|Mick_Jagger}} of the Roll­ing Stones have been ad­mir­ably un­self­ish in their ful­some praise of sing­ers like Muddy Waters, James Brown and {{w|Howl­ing Wolf|Howlin'_Wolf|Howlin{{a}} Wolf}}, an un­self­ish­ness which clearly places them apart from most English {{w|re­viv­al­ist|Revivalist_artist|Revivalist artist}} jazz band lead­ers. | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{tab}}It is tempt­ing to end this ac­count by argu­ing strongly that white sing­ers and mu­si­cians should leave negro {{qq|folk}} music alone. The British sing­ers argue, cor­rectly I think, that no music is sac­ro­sanct, that if they wish to play what they like and pub­licly cham­pion, that is their af­fair. So it is. It is also the critic{{s}} right to as­sess their music, rather than their so­cial sig­nif­ic­ance, in terms of the negro tra­di­tion and find it want­ing. When Rod Stewart made the mem­or­able state­ment that it is as easy to have the blues in the {{w|Arch­way Road|A1_in_London#Haringey|A1 in London: Haringey}} as on a Deep South rail­road he was, in a way, right. You can have the blues in the Arch­way Road—the blues is, in one sense, the im­mem­or­ial music of sad­ness. But it is more than a sad­ness in the heart, more than the ache of hun­ger, more than the misery of the hobo. It is the vo­cal ex­pres­sion of a people, just as all ''real'' folk music is. Rod Stewart is only half right. It may be as easy to ''have'' the blues in the Arch­way Road. It just is not as easy to ''sing'' them. | ||
</div></div> | </div></div> | ||
{{DEFAULTSORT:Blues in the archway road}} | {{DEFAULTSORT:Blues in the archway road}} | ||
[[Category:Music]] | [[Category:Music]] | ||
+ | [[Category:Race]] | ||
[[Category:Articles]] | [[Category:Articles]] |
Latest revision as of 15:51, 30 September 2021
Blues in the
Archway Road
The origins of British “blues” are far from clear. Their seminal genius may have been Muddy Waters who toured Britain in 1958 but it was not until March, 1962, when the harmonica player Cyril Davies and the guitarist Alexis Korner opened the first of the clubs—next door to the ABC Teashop off Ealing Broadway—that the “boom” really had its beginnings. Korner and Davies played mainly pre-war blues of the negro night clubs of urban America. Once they had their own stage the “boom” gathered in Central London, attracting a young audience in reaction against a particularly enfeebled pop music—this was the hey-
It seems to have happened for much the same reason as rock ’n’ roll ten years earlier: a teenage reaction to the sickly gutlessness of orthodox pop. Its success has led to extraordinary results. The Cliff Richard pop image of tidy, boy-
Kenneth Rexroth once argued that jazz is a revolutionary music only insofar as it is conducive to eroticism in dancing. The same might apply to British r ’n’ b. Today’s audiences are active and the groups, who still play for the critical club audiences rather than the easily pleased pop “concert” audiences, must make people want to dance. The modern dances are not set pattern dances. The Shake, the Dog, the Jerk are dances for crowded rooms, improvised round a basic pattern, and the groups must be able to improvise to provide variety. In the clubs, for example, Manfred Mann have played numbers like Cannonball Adderley’s Sack O’ Woe and their original—naturally enough never recorded—Packet of Three, which involved violent climaxes and sudden cliff-
If the new music is different, so are the new stars. Many of them are strange pop idols. Keith Relf, leader of the Yardbirds, was a Beat before he made a living by singing and so was Rod the Mod Stewart, possibly the best vocalist to emerge from the “boom”. (Rod Stewart was also an International Amateur footballer.) Many groups look Beat; tired, worn and weary with the bum’s slouching walk. Indeed the mythology of the r ’n’ b clubs is the mythology of the angry, dishevelled reject of orthodoxy, the protesting bum. The Pretty Things, the most beat-
Most of the r ’n’ b groups who have had hits have done so with numbers which were not r ’n’ b numbers. The Stones made a brave attempt with the slow blues, Little Red Rooster, but most of their hits were white pop in origin—Not Fade Away, a Buddy Holly number, It’s All Over Now, originally recorded by the C & C Boys in America, a country-
Over the last eighteen months there has been a steady stream of real bluesmen to this country, among them Big Joe Williams, Sleepy John Estes, Lightning Hopkins, John Lee Hooker and the unquestioned genius of instrumental blues, the harmonicist Little Walter Jacobs. While it remains sadly true that local white singers are preferred to the “originals”, it is almost entirely due to the propaganda efforts of the white musicians that we have been able to see the genuine article at all. People like Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones have been admirably unselfish in their fulsome praise of singers like Muddy Waters, James Brown and Howling Wolf, an unselfishness which clearly places them apart from most English revivalist jazz band leaders.
It is tempting to end this account by arguing strongly that white singers and musicians should leave negro “folk” music alone. The British singers argue, correctly I think, that no music is sacrosanct, that if they wish to play what they like and publicly champion, that is their affair. So it is. It is also the critic’s right to assess their music, rather than their social significance, in terms of the negro tradition and find it wanting. When Rod Stewart made the memorable statement that it is as easy to have the blues in the Archway Road as on a Deep South railroad he was, in a way, right. You can have the blues in the Archway Road—the blues is, in one sense, the immemorial music of sadness. But it is more than a sadness in the heart, more than the ache of hunger, more than the misery of the hobo. It is the vocal expression of a people, just as all real folk music is. Rod Stewart is only half right. It may be as easy to have the blues in the Archway Road. It just is not as easy to sing them.