A.D. Weaver as George Washington in Hamilton (Photo: Joan Marcus)
A crash course in historical irony was on hand last night, as my son and I trundled into the Orpheum to see Hamilton: An American Musical. While the cast of the celebrated musical sang and rapped their way through the circumstances and ideals upon which this country was founded, a shadowy Trump administration and its unelected advisor, Elon Musk, had just frozen funds for the National Endowment for Democracy in direct violation of the 1974 Impoundment Control Act (which mandates that funds appropriated by Congress be distributed to their proper recipients). Meanwhile, the United States apparently abandoned all commitments to erstwhile ally Ukraine. Authoritarian states like China and Russia were delighted by both moves. And, with characteristic hubris, Trump tweeted “LONG LIVE THE KING,” referring to himself. Welcome to another day in Upside-Down World, where a supine Republican Congress continues to give the executive branch free rein.
Meanwhile, the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) diverted all funding originally targeting underserved communities only two weeks ago. Instead, those monies shall now go to projects honoring the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. That, perhaps, is the most chilling irony: the NEA celebrating a revered historical document as a kind of fetish while caving in to principles that defy its very intent.
It was not always thus. As Hamilton creator Lin-Manuel Miranda told CBS News in 2017, without the NEA he might never have had a career at all.
“My first musical was workshopped at the O’Neill Musical Theatre Center, which is partly funded by the NEA,” he said. “But that’s not even the real story. The real story is the NEA funds things in all 50 states. They are the supplement when arts programs get cut. They fund reading programs between parents and young children in Kentucky. They fund, you know, educational initiatives all over the state, all over the United States. So, when we talk about the NEA, we’re talking about a very small amount of money that does get an enormous return on its investment in terms of what it gets out of our citizens.”
How could one not imagine President Trump’s royal ambitions whenever Hamilton‘s farcical character of King George III (Justin Matthew Sargent) appeared, full of imperious condescension, the perfect foil for the musical’s American patriots? It was enough to give this audience member chills, a bracing reminder of this country’s origins.
The Orpheum has always championed Miranda’s 2015 musical, having been the first theater to bring Hamilton to Tennessee in 2019, then again in 2021. And while those touring productions were stellar, the new touring production, at the Orpheum until March 2nd, hits differently. Suddenly, it seems more necessary than ever.
From the beginning, Hamilton was a shot across the bow for diversity, equity, and inclusion. Its central conceit was to recast the country’s white, propertied “Founding Fathers” as multi-ethnic players fired with the grit and grind of hip hop culture and the soaring emotions of an R&B ballad. And, as Miranda told the New York Times after its opening, “Our cast looks like America looks now, and that’s certainly intentional. It’s a way of pulling you into the story and allowing you to leave whatever cultural baggage you have about the founding fathers at the door.”
Indeed, the musical’s staunchly pro-immigrant ethos is a heartening reminder that Trump is not our king. This was abundantly clear last night, when, during the “Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down)” scene, after the Marquis de Lafayette (Jared Howelton) says the word “immigrants,” and Hamilton (Michael Natt) joins him in saying, “We get the job done,” there were enthusiastic cheers and whoops in the audience. Clearly, I was not the only one who’s spirits were bolstered.
Natt, as a person of color, perfectly embodied the idealism and the drive of his character, delivering the rhymes and raps — sometimes derived from actual historical texts — with understated aplomb, as did his more aggressive foil, Jimmie “JJ” Jeter as Aaron Burr. Lauren Mariasoosay, of South Asian ancestry, masterfully inhabited the unique mix of Colonial-era decorum and emotionalism of Eliza Hamilton, especially in the anguish she conveys at the show’s final moment, just before the house goes dark. And perhaps none captured the play’s inclusive spirit more than the regal A.D. Weaver as George Washington, who expressed all the gravitas that the role demands.
Washington’s repudiation of demands that he become the young nation’s new king, insisting instead on mounting an election for his successor, was a compelling beacon of hope in these dark times, when an American president dares call himself king and jokes about never needing elections again. In matter-of-factly expressing, with new urgency, what once seemed to be this nation’s imperfectly executed yet fundamental principles — a respect for diversity, the peaceful transfer of power, and the rule of law — Hamilton preserves the ideals that we’ve thus far taken for granted and offers the possibility that they haven’t been forgotten.
Back in 2016, newly elected Vice President Mike Pence attended a performance of Hamilton that caused quite a stir when Brandon Dixon, the actor playing Burr, stepped out to share some thoughts with the audience and Pence after the curtain call. If those words rang true then, they are even more critical today, as all of the first Trump administration’s excesses are amplified beyond belief. See Hamilton if you can, take your sons and daughters, and when you do, remember Dixon’s reminder to Pence:
We, sir, are the diverse America who are alarmed and anxious that your new administration will not protect us, our planet, our children, our parents — or defend us and uphold our inalienable rights, sir. But we truly hope that this show has inspired you to uphold our American values and work on behalf of all of us. All of us.
Mike Mogis, Conor Oberst, and Nate Walcott of Bright Eyes (Photo: Nik Freitas)
As any Memphian knows, there are advantages to being a land-locked city far away from the coastal metropoles of money and power. While music industry towns like L.A. or New York seem to be where the action is, being left to one’s own devices in mid-America encourages a certain independence of mind, and hence some especially innovative creatives — from Sam Phillips to Jay Reatard. It turns out the same can be said for Omaha.
That Nebraska burg, like Memphis, felt relatively sleepy back in the ’90s, yet ultimately birthed a scene of its own that has endured for decades. Eventually the standard bearer for “the Omaha sound” was Bright Eyes, still going strong and set to appear at Minglewood Hall on Monday, March 17th. But they were only one of many bands sprouting up in the Omaha scene as the last century ended.
Bright Eyes multi-instrumentalist and chief recordist Mike Mogis recalls those days well. “Over the course of the last 25 to 30 years, a lot has changed about the Nebraska music scene,” he says today from his ARC studio in Omaha. “But back in the day, like the late ’90s, early 2000s, there was a very strong community of friends that all made different-sounding music. Bands that come to mind are Bright Eyes, our band, or The Faint, which is kind of an electronic band, or a band like Cursive, which is a heavier, emo kind of rock band. But we all played in bands together as well, like side projects. We’re all just friends, and that created a supportive musical community that we all felt inspired by. You know, inspired by each other.”
And the way Mogis describes it, all those bands sprang from a determination to make their own fun, despite living in the hinterlands. “I’m looking out my window, and it’s like 10 degrees and there’s snow everywhere,” he observes. “It’s sometimes a harsh place to live, but because of that, it’s also a good place to make music. When it’s cold like this, it’s what I call ‘record-making weather.’ You stay inside and you record music. Weirdly, Bright Eyes tends to record mostly in the winter. Maybe it’s coincidental, but it’s right after fall, which is kind of my favorite season. Anyway, it’s a good place to make music because, to be honest, there’s not a ton else to do.”
It was in that spirit that Mogis first worked with Bright Eyes’ chief singer/songwriter Conor Oberst. “I remember making the first proper Bright Eyes record, which is [1998’s] Letting Off the Happiness. I lived in Lincoln at the time, going to college, and I would drive to Omaha because Conor was in high school. I set up a quarter-inch Fostex eight-track reel-to-reel machine — you know, all analog — and a little mixing board. And we recorded that record in his mom’s basement. I set up in the laundry room as a control room, and then the room adjacent to that was like a little family den. Me and my brother A.J. Mogis just learned on our own, and he kind of taught me.”
That early effort already featured the fundamentals of the Bright Eyes sound, resting initially on the twin pillars of Oberst’s socially and psychologically astute lyrics and melodies over a strummed guitar, and Mogis’ delight in recorded sound and its infinite mutability. Both born of a D.I.Y. spirit, they come together to stunning effect on opening tune “If Winter Ends,” launching with a sound collage suggesting playgrounds, feedback, and traffic, then yielding to Oberst singing, “I dreamt of a fever/One that would cure me of this cold, winter-set heart/With heat to melt these frozen tears.” Record-making weather, indeed.
With a rotating cast of players, the band went from success to success into the new millennium. “We started our own record label, Saddle Creek, and just did our own thing, putting out our own records and our friends’ records,” says Mogis. “And, you know, it kind of took off for a moment there, in the early 2000s, with all those three bands that I just mentioned. We’re all still kind of kicking it today. And we all live in different places now, but Conor and myself have stuck it out here in Nebraska.”
As the band was taking off, another member of the extended Nebraska musical family, Nate Walcott, with roots in Lincoln, joined the group as a multi-instrumentalist, and 2007’s Cassadaga featured his musicianly contributions and full-on, edgy orchestral arrangements. “The first time we recorded the orchestra in L.A., at Capitol Studios, in their big room,” says Mogis, “I just got chills. I’m getting goosebumps right now, just remembering it.”
Thus the now-classic trio emerged, each bringing his own strength to the mix, as they continued to work primarily in Mogis’ studio. All the while, even after a nine-year hiatus, the group has made a point of giving every album a distinctive sonic stamp. Which holds true for their latest work, Five Dice, All Threes, released last year.
“With this one we wanted a more simplistic, sincere-sounding rock record, not too labored-over. We wanted to get back to being more of a live band again, like we used to be. It kind of had a similar approach to what we took on I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning, except the fact that it’s not a folk record. This one is more akin to The Replacements, like more ruckus-y rock music.” Having said that, there are plenty of the band’s other elements present, from extended cinematic audio quips to Walcott’s arrangements for horns and strings, not to mention cameos from Cat Power and The National’s Matt Berninger. Mogis says audiences for their upcoming tour can expect an unpredictable mix of songs old and new, with a full sonic palette.
“We have a whole sample bank that Nate plays live, so he’ll trigger them throughout the show. It changes from night to night, depending on the mood,” Mogis says. “And we dig deep into our back catalog.”
Meanwhile, he’ll keep savoring the “record-making weather” that Nebraska offers. “You know, there’s not that many distractions,” Mogis reflects. “And that’s sort of what keeps me here. The fact that Conor and I built this recording studio anchors me here, because it’s a nice place. I enjoy making albums, making music, art, you know, whatever. And it’s a good place for that because it’s affordable, there’s not a whole lot else to do, and there’s a lot to be inspired by, living out here.”
Many know Jeremy Scott through his work with the now-defunct Reigning Sound, but there’s a lot more to this rock-and-roll lifer’s music career than that. After leaving that band for the first time (before the original group re-formed and then split again in this decade), he went on to found The Wallendas (featuring guitar pyrotechnics from Jim Duckworth), followed by Toy Trucks, The Subtractions, and a million ad hoc projects like the all-star tribute to Doug Sahm that he organized last month. (Full disclosure, I played with him in some of these groups.) One common thread through all of these has been the presence of the gritty, indie rock energy he often showcases on his weekly radio show on WEVL, Out On the Side, marked by a close attention to vocal harmonies.
That was also true for the first album under his own name, 2022’s Bear Grease, which he pieced together with multi-instrumentalist/engineer Graham Burks Jr. through the magic of overdubs. As the Flyer observed at the time, “though he started with acoustic intentions, he couldn’t help but let his rock instincts take over.” And, as that unfolded, the album took on a hard-rocking edge that required a full band.
And thus were the Drip Edges born, as Scott added Noel Clark on guitar and Mitchell Manley on bass to create a team that could present the album in a live setting. Now, with the release of their new EP, Kicking the Tires on the Clown Car, the quartet has come into its own. I spoke to Scott last week to see how this release compares to his solo debut.
The new EP
Memphis Flyer: The song “Dirty Sound” on the new EP seems the most like Bear Grease, and it’s the only acoustic-driven song on the record. You’ve said this new release was recorded by the Drip Edges as a band, but is that true for “Dirty Sound”?
Jeremy Scott: That’s 97 percent me, and Graham helped with the percussion tracks.
So that’s the only track done in the manner of Bear Grease?
Yes, it is. I put all the harmonies on. And Graham’s got a Mellotron, and I was playing around with it. And I’m like, “Well, maybe you can put some of this on?” Because he put Mellotron on “Fred Neil Armstrong” on the first record. And then he was like, “Well, why don’t you just do it?” I’m like, “Are you sure? People could get hurt!” But it wound up sounding not awful. Then there are weird things in there that sound almost like a trombone in spots. That’s just me on the guitar, running it through this pedal called a Slow Engine. Sometimes it can make it sound a little bit like a backwards guitar. It’s a pretty cool device.
You’ve certainly leaned into the hard rock elements of Bear Grease on this new release, but they’re revved up more, played by a seasoned band. I hear a lot of Hüsker Dü’s influence on some of the tracks.
Yeah. Hüsker Dü was so formative for me. Okay, I heard the Replacements first, and I dug them, but I got really burned out on the Replacements, and now I don’t really feel like I ever need to listen to them. Ever. That’s not their problem, that’s mine. Hüsker Dü, I can listen to whenever. It all holds up. And the one that really bit me in the ass was [1985 album] New Day Rising. That was a great combination of power and melody. That whole run from Metal Circus through Zen Arcade is so amazing. But New Day Rising is probably my personal favorite.
What exactly has stayed with you from those records, as you’ve written your own songs?
Just the songwriting combined with that guitar sound. And I picked up some things here and there from Bob Mould’s guitar style. Like, I was listening to the intro to the first song of ours — “Everything’s Gonna Have to Be Alright” — and thinking it probably sounds a little bit more like Sugar [Mould’s post-Hüsker Dü band]. Even though I didn’t have that Rat [distortion] pedal and the other stuff he used.
The intro to another song, “Nobody Wants to Drive,” almost sounds like Ratt, the band. The crunch and darker chord changes are a little more metal.
That one actually is probably more influenced by Sugar. And that one is funny because that started off when I was still doing the Toy Trucks band. We tried playing that song, but it was more like a really energetic, forceful waltz. It was in 6/8, and the chorus was the same, but the verse was entirely different — different melody, different lyrics. And I came back to it with these guys, thought about a little bit, and I’m like, “What the hell am I doing here?” So I just decided to make it 4/4, to make it more of a straightforward thing.
The band seems to really relish playing an outright rocker.
It’s a testament to how these guys can put a song over, and it’s good playing with these younger guys that have that energy. I mean, nobody’s going to confuse me with a spring chicken at this point. I guess I’m a little bit more of a winter chicken.
The Drip Edges will play a record release show at the Lamplighter Lounge on Saturday, February 15th, at 3 p.m. Joecephus & The George Jonestown Massacre will open.
Delta Stardust opening for Acid Mother’s Temple. (Photo: Andrew Geraci)
The blues have always hung out at the crossroads of the mundane and the supernatural — as when Robert Johnson exhorted anyone listening to “bury my body down by the highway side, so my old evil spirit can get a Greyhound bus and ride.” But in spite of the blues walking side by side with the devil and buying mojo hands for so long, the genre was never quite associated with shamanic states of consciousness until the ’60s, when tripping hippies folded the blues into both the folk and the heavy rock they favored. Yet when that sonic mash up coalesced into psychedelic rock, the music lost all its grounding in a particular place. It was largely part of the everywhere/nowhere world of pop music, never spawning a site-specific tag analogous to “Delta blues,” but rather proffering a universal message of peace, love, and understanding.
Now, with the advent of a new Memphis/North Mississippi band, Delta Stardust, that may well be changing. As the band’s chief songwriter Michael Graber, aka Spaceman, puts it, “We wanted to go for this transcendence, but we also wanted to be from somewhere. It’s that whole yin-yang, push-pull thing.”
Album art by Rowan Gratz
Beyond being an abstract statement of the band’s mission, those words also capture the sound they’ve come up with, which can be heard on their debut album, Snakes Made of Light, released on January 24th. At the foundation of most tracks is the jangling, earthy, ramshackle string band sound to which Graber and his new/old bandmates have devoted themselves since at least the mid-’90s heyday of Prof. Elixir’s Southern Troubadours, through the venerable Bluff City Backsliders, and on into more recent projects under the name Graber Gryass. All these have sported, to varying degrees, Graber’s songwriting, which often blends the archaic language of the Carter Family with Graber’s more Whitman-esque, visionary poetry. This holds true for his work for Delta Stardust. But the new band also explores novel audio flavors.
“We gave ourselves permission to bring in all kinds of different textures,” says Graber of the new sonic stew. “You know, the synthesizers, the mellotrons. We recorded at the home studio of John Kilgore, who was the co-producer and engineer. He’s the engineer at Zebra Ranch studio [established near Coldwater, Mississippi, by the late Jim Dickinson 30 years ago]. But John also makes his own guitar pedals and has about 400. And we had tons of Moogs and different compressors. He’s like a Brian Eno in Senatobia. There, in his home studio, John said, ‘If you can dream it, I can find the sound equivalent.’ So we were able to add that alchemical — we call ‘stardust’ — texture that way.”
Thus the yin-yang qualities were baked into the band’s sound simply by virtue of where they cut the music. Even as they fired up old Moog synthesizers, they never forgot that they were in Senatobia, Mississippi. “That’s why we call the genre ‘roots psychedelia,’” Graber explains. “What would happen if, just to take any example, if The Chemical Brothers or The Flaming Lips were actually from the Mississippi Delta? And they had all that burden of influence, but they still wanted to hit escape velocity, too, so to speak, right? If they didn’t want to just rewrite Beatles chord structures, but wanted to talk to their ancestors, in a sense, yet also reach for new heights?”
It should be noted that this cornucopia of sounds is deployed with some restraint, compared to your typical synthesizer band, because the string band is always holding down the fort. And some of the sounds are nonelectronic, yet still unfamiliar in the jug band context. Like the chortling “Hoooo!” that opens “Owl in My Backyard,” a bit of field recording that adds a visceral dimension to a song about a bird that “kisses creation on the forehead each night.” A few tracks later, “Two Questions” opens with frogs and crickets before the swooping, lush chords of Eric Lewis’ pedal steel sweep you away.
Even that opening pastoral evolves before reaching “escape velocity,” as Graber notes. “Then you can hear The Band influences on the chorus, with the accordion and dobro, and then it gets into a weird sound somewhere between Pere Ubu and Black Sabbath, as kind of an inner dialogue, right? But then weaving it all together. Just trying to hit that range of emotions was a joy, and the band was willing to do it as well. You know, we cut most of the stuff live, and then we did some overdubs.”
Recording the basic tracks live was made possible in part by the caliber of musicianship that the core membership of Delta Stardust represents, including Andy Ratliff (a “key collaborator” who goes back to the Prof. Elixir days), Carlos Gonzales, Jesse Dakota Williams, and Scott Carter, as well as many virtuosic cameos by Grayson Smith, Mark Jordan, Victor Sawyer, Jeremy Shrader, Tom Link, Robert Allen Parker, Julia Graber, Eric Lewis, and Kitty Dearing.
The most “topical” track is arguably “Memphis Tattoo,” which brings some uniquely urban concerns into the album’s lyrical universe. “I think anyone in Memphis can relate to the story behind that song,” says Graber. “I was running on the Greenline and I got shot at. The bullet just buzzed right past me into the bushes, and my dog took off. There was smoke everywhere. I called 911, and I posted on social media about it. And then everyone started telling me about how they have these gunshot wounds. You know, people have them as almost a badge of joy. And people start piling on to that post and even posting pictures and other things about their gunshot wounds that have healed. So then I started thinking: What is a Memphis tattoo, but a healed gunshot wound?”
And therein lies yet another opposition held in tension, where the folk harmonies and strums of the music, and psychedelia’s promise of transcendence, undergird an all-too-real, yet somehow hopeful take on the gritty world of today. “The bittersweetness,” says Graber, “is that only the survivors can sing it. But it’s just life here, you know?”
Delta Stardust will celebrate the release of their debut album at the New Memphis Psychedelic Festival, Friday, February 7th, at B-Side Bar, 7 p.m. Other bands at the festival will include Twin Face Kline, Arc of Quasar, and The Narrows.
Stax salutes a fallen hero. (Photo: Courtesy
Stax Museum of American Soul)
Back during the initial flowering of Stax Records, as the label went from success to success in its first half-dozen years, and all its rooms buzzed with an ever-expanding staff trying to keep up with popular demand, one star in particular had a tendency to saunter away from the studio, where the action was, and take a detour down Stax’s back hallways from time to time. Deanie Parker, one of the label’s first office employees who soon became their lead publicist, remembers it well — that’s where she worked.
“Every now and then, he just walked in the door,” she recalls a little wistfully, “with little gifts for the girls in the office, little packages. That’s the kind of person he was.”
Now, scores of mourners will be sending flowers to that same soul singer, Sam Moore, the high tenor partner of Dave Prater in Stax super duo Sam & Dave, who died at the age of 89 on January 10th in Coral Gables, Florida, from post-surgery complications. This week, we pay tribute to the great Sam Moore by revisiting the pivotal role he played in the history of Stax and all soul music, as remembered by two who were right there with him: Deanie Parker and David Porter.
(Photo: Bill Carrier Jr. | Courtesy of The Concord API Stax Collection)
Sam Moore: The Stax Years
The quieting of one of soul music’s most expressive voices sent powerful shock waves throughout the music world — certainly among his late-career collaborators like Bruce Springsteen, but not least in Memphis, where Moore and Prater, singing the songs of Porter and Isaac Hayes, helped bring the Stax sound to its fullest fruition in the mid-’60s, becoming overnight sensations with hits like “Hold On, I’m Comin,’” “You Don’t Know Like I Know,” “I Thank You,” and “Soul Man.”
Even then, “Sam Moore got along especially well with the administrative staff,” says Parker, recalling those spontaneous gifts. “He was the most gregarious of the duo. He was a great conversationalist and very personable. Dave was rather laid-back, kind of quiet.
“Keep in mind, now, that I was not in the studio with him all the time because I was in administration,” Parker goes on. “But because of our proximity to each other, it gave me an opportunity to get up and, when the record light was not on in Studio A, go in and observe and listen — not only to their rehearsals, but to the final takes and the playback.”
Surely anyone at Stax was rushing down the hall to hear the hot new duo’s latest, once the hits were hitting, for they were taking the Stax recipe to a whole new level of artistry. Yet while those songs are now part of the Stax canon, the definitive statements of the Memphis Sound, the success of two newcomers named Sam & Dave was not a foregone conclusion when they arrived.
Deanie Parker heading up the publicity desk at Stax (Photo: Courtesy Bill Carrier Jr. | The Concord API Stax Collection)
Newcomers
“There was no one interested in Sam & Dave,” songwriter David Porter told Rob Bowman in the liner notes for The Complete Stax/Volt Singles: 1959-1968. “It was like a throwaway kind of situation [to] see if anything could happen with them.” Indeed, it seemed no one at Atlantic Records, who had a distribution deal with Stax, knew what to do with this singing duo from Florida, who’d had little luck with their scattered singles on the Marlin, Alston, and Roulette labels. Despite this, said Porter, “I was very much interested in Sam & Dave.”
But were Sam & Dave interested in Memphis? Atlantic had “loaned” the duo to the smaller label that was showing so much promise, but in 1965 Stax was hardly a household name. Moore’s reaction, according to Parker, was, “Who wants to go to Memphis?” Moore had his sights set on crossover pop stardom in the Big Apple, not moving to what seemed like a backwater. “He really did not have a positive impression about Memphis,” Parker says. “And apparently he was not all that familiar with Stax, which stands to reason, because when Sam & Dave got here, we only had a couple of stars. We just had Rufus and Carla, Booker T. and the M.G.’s, the Mar-Keys, and Otis [Redding]. I don’t know that we had more than those in the category of the top stars.”
Moore himself described the situation hilariously in his acceptance speech for Sam & Dave’s induction into the Memphis Music Hall of Fame in October 2015. “When Dave and I first came to Memphis,” Moore recalled, “the first person I saw was David Porter. He had on a small hat, a big sweater, and his pants looked like pedal pushers. Water came into my eyes.” Moore paused for laughter with impeccable comic timing. “Then it got worse: I saw Isaac. Isaac had on a green shirt with a low-cut neck, like that, a white belt, chartreuse pants, pink socks, and white shoes. I started crying harder. I wanted to go home.”
There must have been more than a little truth to that, for, as Moore went on to explain, “I had in mind to sing like Jackie Wilson, James Brown, Wilson Pickett … but then they introduced us to these two guys and we went inside and they introduced us to the songs. And they didn’t sound nothing like Jackie Wilson and all these people! And then I turned to Dave … and he was trying to get a phone number to get to the airport.
“Being the new kids on the block, we had nothing to say. So we had to go on in there.”
In fact, they were walking into the Stax brain trust, which had always dared to be different. When Sam & Dave’s pre-Stax singles tried to emulate the more polished soul of Wilson or Sam Cooke, albeit without their orchestral flourishes, the results came off as rather corny. Now it was 1965, and pop music was getting edgier, from Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” to the Rolling Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.” Even James Brown, whose biggest hits had been ballads like “Try Me,” was cooking up material like “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag.”
Porter and Hayes mapping out the next Sam & Dave hit (Photo: Courtesy Bill Carrier Jr. | The Concord API Stax Collection)
Dream Team
David Porter, who saw their potential early on, inched them toward a rawer take on soul music when he penned the shuffling, feel-good “A Place Nobody Can Find” for them, though the B-side, written by Porter and Steve Cropper, was a more tender ballad, with sassy horns thrown in for good measure. Unlike their later hits, Prater was given the lead vocal, though Moore’s upper register parts hinted at the harmonies that were to come. It wasn’t until their next single that Porter and Hayes teamed up to produce the duo, and their nascent songwriting partnership blossomed. And they gelled not only in the substance of the songs, with Porter crafting lyrics for Hayes’ music, but in the strategy they mapped out for the two new kids on the block.
Reflecting on that strategy today, Porter says that Sam & Dave “didn’t have a concept as far as the artistic direction that they needed to go. That’s why Jerry Wexler, the president of Atlantic Records, brought them to Memphis, in hopes of finding whatever that was — he didn’t know what it was. But we had our concept of what we wanted to do, and that was to bring it out of the church, the spirituality out of the church, and have the music emphasize what we called the low end of it, the bass, drums, and guitar, and the underlying chord progressions in the low end, paired with the gospel persona of it, the spirituality of the church.”
And yet, as with Ray Charles and so much of the finest soul music, the gospel underpinnings supported very secular, worldly sentiments. Lyrically, Porter paired the world of the bluesman with the spirit of church. And that came as a shock to the singers, who had both grown up singing in church choirs.
“David Porter and Sam could clash,” Parker recalls, “but it wasn’t hostile, and it didn’t last but a few minutes. It was like they were sparring, you know? Of course, Isaac’s thing was the keyboard, he was the melody man, and Porter was the lyricist. And sometimes Porter had to stop and help both of the guys understand what he meant when he wrote, ‘Coming to you on a dusty road.’ You know what I’m saying? Because this was not Sam & Dave’s environment. This was David Porter’s environment from the area around Millington, Tennessee.”
And so a great foursome was born, beginning with the single “I Take What I Want,” which, as Bowman notes, “was to provide the model for the majority of Sam & Dave’s Stax 45s.” By the time “Hold On, I’m Comin’” dropped in March of 1966, topping the R&B charts and reaching number 21 on the pop charts, that model was locked in. After crafting a song and a sound, Porter and Hayes would only need to give the duo a brief rundown before they got it. Porter can still picture it today: “I’m standing there with them, and I’m looking at them as I give them the lyric sheet. We go through the melody at the piano, and then by the time they get on the microphone, they go into another world. They made it their own, and that’s when you know you’ve got something special.”
And so, even if “Sam was the dominant one,” as Parker recalls, and more prone to pushback, both Sam and Dave were consummate professionals. “We had to go on in there,” as Moore recalled, and they did.
Porter says, “There never was a comment like, ‘Well, I don’t want to do that song. I don’t like that song.’ Because we produced the albums, even when we were doing a song by some other writer, and on occasion we would do that, they still didn’t object. They would bring their own spirit and commitment to wanting to make it as good as it could possibly be. And they did that.”
The Key to the Speedboat
The foursome’s recipe for success not only gave Sam & Dave’s career a boost; it solidified Stax’s standing as a label. As Robert Gordon writes in Respect Yourself: Stax Records and the Soul Explosion, “their album Hold On, I’m Comin’ proved to be the breakthrough for Stax’s album sales. In all the company’s years through 1965, they’d released only eight albums. … In 1966 alone they released eleven albums and Sam & Dave’s Hold On went to number one on the R&B album sales chart. Albums were good business.”
Parker likens it to the fledgling label acquiring a sleek new machine. “They reminded me of a speedboat,” she says. “A boat that nobody was 100 percent familiar with because they were not on the water in the speedboat every day. They had to figure out a lot of things mechanically, and they had to become acquainted with each other. And I’m talking about Sam and Dave and David and Isaac. Once Sam and Dave found their groove with David and Isaac, it was like they had found the key to speedboat. They then began to realize that they had more going for them with their new producers than they’d ever imagined.”
If the speedboat was designed by the producers, Porter makes it clear that Sam & Dave supplied the spark of ignition. “You, as a creator, can create something that you know is strong and good, but when you have an artist that’s able to create their own individuality through the spirit of what you’ve done, then you’ve got something special. That’s the thing that made Sam Moore such a special talent, as well as Dave: They would go into the ownership of the message. I would tell them where the vibe was, and they would have to live the spirit of the message. That’s where true artistry comes in. And the more songs we wrote for them, the more comfortable they would get into doing it.”
Or, as Porter wrote on social media after Moore’s death, Sam & Dave “were always filled with passion, purity, individuality, and believability, grounded in soul.”
The road grew dustier and rockier as the years rolled on, with Atlantic claiming ownership of all Stax masters prior to 1968, and taking Sam & Dave away from Memphis. The duo never reached the heights of their Stax records again, and split apart as Moore struggled with addiction through the ’70s. Yet, with the help of his wife Joyce MacRae, whom he wed in 1982 and who now survives him, he kicked drugs (coming to support several GOP candidates along the way) and revived his career without Prater (who died in a car crash in 1988).
By the time he spoke to the Memphis Music Hall of Fame 10 years ago, Sam Moore had fully embraced his Stax past. “Coming from a humble beginning, with no formal training in singing or anything, we were just two guys who got out there and took the church with us, like Al Green did. … I’m going to say this to you: Thank you Memphis people, the band, the friends that Dave and I met all those years. …They believed in us. They stuck with us. Every record company that we had been with just didn’t know what to do with us. Sixty years later, I’ve been doing this. I’m blessed.”
Sam Moore knew he’d helped build something for the ages. As David Porter reflects now, “The music that was done by the four of us together will live on forever. There’s no doubt in my mind.”
Missy Elliott (Photo: Derek Blanks with crowdMGMT), The Killers (Photo: Chris Phelps), and Anderson .Paak (Photo: Israel Ramos)
With the new year barely begun, many of us are still recovering from holiday indulgences, just trying to get it in gear. Not so for the magical elves at Mempho Presents, who have clearly been working overtime to book yet another stellar spring music lineup.
Following last year’s successful debut, RiverBeat will return to the banks of the Mississippi River this May 2nd through 4th, with Missy Elliott, The Killers, and Anderson .Paak & The Free Nationals headlining this year’s celebration. Other notable acts include Benson Boone, Cage the Elephant, Khruangbin, Ludacris, Public Enemy, and many more.
As is now standard Mempho practice, the lineup is heavy with local Memphis musicians. Producer Lawrence “Boo” Mitchell will be returning this year with Royal Studios Blues Jam featuring Bobby Rush, Duwayne Burside, Garry Burnside, Kent Burnside and Kinney Kimbrough. WYXR will be presenting the Memphis Rap OGz featuring local artists La Chat, Crunchy Black, Al Kapone, Skinny Pimp, DJ Zirk, Gangsta Pat, and DJ Spanish Fly. And the festival’s Sunday Gospel Celebration is also back, featuring local Memphis gospel legends The Wilkins Sisters, The Sensational Barnes Brothers, The Jubilee Hummingbirds, and Elizabeth King.
“RiverBeat is more than just a music festival — it’s a celebration of Memphis’s rich musical heritage and its vibrant future,” Jeff Bransford, Festival Producer at Mempho Presents, noted in a statement. “From blues and soul to rock and hip-hop, we’re looking forward to our second year as we continue to elevate Memphis’ position as a premier destination for live music and cultural experiences.”
The festival has implemented significant improvements for 2025, including two main entry points — the newly optimized North Entrance that puts attendees immediately in the heart of the action, and the Butler Street entrance, designed to enhance Downtown accessibility and support local businesses. The festival grounds will feature the return of a Ferris wheel, family-friendly activities, diverse food vendors, and nightly fireworks displays.
While some of the national acts featured have long employed local musicians, as when local axe man Khari Wynn plays guitar for Public Enemy, many full-fledged local acts will also appear, such as MonoNeon, FreeWorld, Iron Mic Coalition, Lina Beach, Salo Pallini, Black Cream, Joybomb, Jombi, Deaf Revival, the Neckbones, and Asheville-Memphis hybrid band The Hypos.
Three-day general admission tickets go on sale today at a discounted rate of $199 and VIP at $849, including all fees. The daily lineup will be announced in early February along with sales of single-day general admission and VIP tickets. Visit RiverBeat.com for more information.
The new “90 for 90” exhibit at Graceland (Photo: Courtesy Elvis Presley’s Graceland)
The anniversary of Elvis Aaron Presley’s birth, January 8th, has always been a time of reflection and dual meanings, as it also marks the day in 1935 that his twin Jesse Garon was stillborn a half hour before baby Elvis emerged. Yet that’s just one among a host of dramatic moments that punctuated one of the 20th century’s most epic lives. And even after all these years, the exhibits at Elvis Presley’s Graceland have never captured the whole story.
With that in mind, Elvis Presley’s Graceland launched a new exhibit this Wednesday, January 8th, full of never-before-seen gritty objects from a life well lived. Four days of festivities surround the opening of the new yearlong “90 for 90 Exhibit” that celebrates Presley’s life.
The new exhibit features 90 curated “stories” told through items specially selected from the over 1.5 million artifacts housed at the Graceland Archives at Preseley’s home in Memphis. These artifacts, each embodying a unique moment from the singer’s life, range from iconic items easily recognizable by fans to rare, personal pieces that capture Presley’s private moments out of the spotlight.
The earliest known photo of the Presleys (Photo: Courtesy Elvis Presley’s Graceland)
One such artifact, never displayed until now, is the earliest known photo of the Presley family, taken around 1938, cataloged as inventory no. 1 in the Graceland Archives Collection database. This is the original black-and-white photo found inside the family’s steamer trunk. The exact date of the picture is unknown, but Elvis appears to be two or three years old. It’s a gripping slice of life from the earliest days of the young family.
Other artifacts range from the trivial to the profound. Few may realize that Presley’s ’70s passion for racquetball actually led to a business venture, Presley Center Courts, founded in 1976, intended to become a nationwide chain of branded racquetball and spa facilities. Commemorative paddle rackets from that time are included in the exhibit.
So is the original film reel of The Frank Sinatra Timex Show: Welcome Home Elvis television special; a poem, “Why God Made Little Girls,” that Presley treasured; a road case of stage scarves from 1977; and, arguably the most badass of them all, a special pair of nunchucks personalized for “Master Elvis Presley.”
Many of the artifacts in the new exhibit have never been seen on display until now. (Photo: Courtesy Elvis Presley’s Graceland).
This yearlong exhibit will run through December 2025 and can be toured as part of the Elvis Presley’s Memphis entertainment complex. Throughout the coming year, Graceland will unveil additional new exhibits and refresh some existing spaces to enhance the visitor experience, so stay tuned. A full schedule of events going on now is available at Graceland.com/Birthday.
Often a meme will circulate listing the hits of bygone times. A roll call of great releases in, say, 1977 will leave one feeling it was a golden age of recorded music, our contemporary sounds paling in comparison. Looking over this year’s best-of list, however, I’m inclined to think that 2024 will be celebrated in much the same way. And if you should beg to differ, I would only refer you to those wise wake up call offered by GloRilla herself, “Do y’all know what the f*ck goin’ on?? (goin’ on … goin’ on … goin’ on …)”
Aquarian Blood – Counting Backwards Again (Black & Wyatt)
This caps off a trilogy of sorts, over which the sometime punk screamers dialed it back into the acoustic realm. Meticulously crafted yet loose, these songs are dark, primitive missives haunted by trauma and desire, as if German sonic artists Can reinterpreted the Incredible String Band.
Cedric Burnside – Hill Country Love (Provogue)
Burnside’s latest album turns the volume up, yes, but not the distortion. Bringing more of a full-band sound, this particular Burnside eschews the hard rock guitar tones that were his grandfather R.L.’s trademark. There are echoes of 2021’s I Be Trying’s quieter soul-imbued originals (“Smile”), but funkier, staccato riffs predominate — at least until he breaks out the acoustic for traditional numbers.
GloRilla – Ehhthang Ehhthang and Glorious (CMG/Interscope)
Rolling Stone ranked October’s Glorious among the year’s best, but we in the city where “everything is everything” tapped into the Ehhthang Ehhthang mixtape way back in April. While the 2024 releases are two peas in a pod, Ehhthang was arguably more significant as Glo’s triumphant debut in the full-length format. And tracks like “No Bih” slay (in Latin, no less) in such a stark, Memphis way: “F*ck it, carpe diem/I make ‘em motivated (okay)/Grammy-nominated (okay), f*ck whoever hatin’.”
IMAKEMADBEATS – WANDS (UNAPOLOGETIC)
While there are mad beats throughout this instrumental journey, there are also orchestral passages both ethereal and bombastic, at times sounding eerily like the ’70s synth-meister Tomita. It’s an interstellar trip in audio form, in which you’re never sure if you’re hearing a sample or an intricate new composition by MAD himself. “I’m Losing My Mind I’m OK” even features lyrics, hauntingly sung by Tiffany Harmon.
Juicy J and Xavier Wulf – Memphis Zoo
While Juicy J co-founded the dark horror-hop of Three 6 Mafia, this collab with fellow Memphian Wulf is, paradoxically, dark, ominous, and … fun. But there’s a gravitas here, too, as on the most popular track, album opener “The Truth,” an exhortation to cut the BS, stop fronting, and face facts. And a deeper truth about our times comes out in personal fave “Alley Oop”: “We’re living in the era of the alley oop,” and it’s not a good thing.
MonoNeon – Quilted Stereo (Court Square)
“I walked in the room and got butterflies.” So MonoNeon described his studio work with Mavis Staples on “Full Circle,” a highlight of Dywane “MonoNeon” Thomas Jr.’s latest work. With its doo-wop-ish vocal bass riff evoking a gospel bounce right out of the last century, it embodies funk and soul’s past, present, and future. Then there’s the sing-along jam with George Clinton, the perfectly Clinton-esque [and downright bluesy] “Quilted!” – an ode to flying your sartorial freak flag high, even if that means walking down the street decked out in bespoke, multicolored quilts. Then there’s the chugging New Wave pop of “Church of Your Heart,” the jungle beat rap of “Segreghetto,” and the sparkling sizzler of the summer, “Jelly Roll,” full of glossy synth warbles and bass stabs, its video overflowing with extras seemingly right out of the Crystal Palace roller-skating scene. MonoNeon’s greatest work yet.
NLE Choppa – SLUT SZN (Warner)
One of four releases by Choppa this year, all carry on his raunchy “Slut Me Out” variations, most audaciously with this album’s shuffling, acoustic guitar-driven “Slut Me Out 2 (Country Me Out),” featuring J.P., who sings, “If I was a cowgirl/I’d wanna ride me too!” Both versions skew gender in new ways for hip-hop, but it’s the stylistic mash up of the galloping, dancehall-flavored “Catalina” with Latin star Yaisel LM that truly takes Memphis hip-hop into global waters, reflecting Choppa’s Jamaican roots.
The Lisa Nobumoto Jazz Masters Orchestra – A Tribute to Jazz Singer Nancy Wilson
Having performed with the great Teddy Edwards for decades, this Memphian knows how to give Wilson’s catalog her own individual stamp. “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” becomes a ballad, worlds away from Frankie Valli’s stomper. “Uptight (Everything’s Alright)” verges into boogaloo territory, yet with a relaxed delivery. Carl Wolfe’s big, brassy arrangements give the album a rare jazz classicism.
Jerry Phillips – For the Universe (Omnivore)
Though this is Phillips’ debut album, his decades of experience recording with great songwriters like John Prine at the studio his father built lend it the feel of a career-topper from the last century. The wry observations and hard-won wisdom of songs like “Specify” (exhorting his lover to say what she wants) or “She Let Me Slip Right Through Her Fingers” are carried by Phillips’ voice, echoing Charlie Rich or Johnny Rivers, and a band of ace Memphis session players.
Talibah Safiya – Black Magic
As artist-in-residence at the Rudi E. Scheidt School of Music last year, Safiya tapped into the High Water Recording Company’s back catalog, working with producer/engineer Ari Morris to weave generous helpings of Mississippi blues and soul into her samples. Erstwhile Memphian-turned-international-producer Brandon Deener lends his sonic touch as well, not to mention guitarist MadameFraankie, who brings a simmering soul vibe to underpin Safiya’s powerful-yet-playful voice.
Marcella Simien – To Bend to the Will of a Dream That’s Being Fulfilled
For this most personal of journeys into her family’s past and her own well-being, Simien’s playing nearly all the instruments, crafting a setting in a kind of synthetic world-building, evoking the sweep of generations with the sweep of electronic filters. Rootsier sounds also make an appearance, as the artist conjures a timeless space to commune with her ancestors.
Snowglobe – The Fall
Like much of Snowglobe’s earlier output, this is rich with layers of ear candy. Though grounded by chords on an acoustic guitar or piano, the arrangements fill out with all manner of harmonies, synthesizers, or electric guitar riffs and hooks. Think Badfinger meets “Soul Finger,” with hints of Harry Nilsson’s darker moods and post-‘90s quirks all their own.
Cyrena Wages – Vanity Project
Produced and mixed by Matt Ross-Spang, this album has some of the rootsy, vintage elements of his previous work with Margo Price, yet with the contemporary pop instincts once championed by one of Wages’ heroes, Amy Winehouse. Most of all, the sounds jump out of the speakers with the grit of a real band, which includes guitarist and songwriting collaborator Joe Restivo.
Reba Russell reflects on her career (Photo: Jamie Harmon)
Last Saturday at Hernando’s Hide-A-Way, the Memphis Blues Society recognized nine artists for their regional and global impact with its Lifetime Achievement Awards. Among the awardees were Thomas Bingham, Charles Gage, Mike Glenn, Eric Hughes, Al Kapone, Memphis Gold, Andrew “Shine” Turner, and Jay Sieleman, a roster marked by its eclecticism and inclusiveness. Yet there was one more recipient who was especially notable: Reba Russell. As one of the few local women still regularly singing the blues in this town (also including Barbara Blue and the incomparable Joyce Cobb), the celebration of Russell’s decades-long career was significant beyond the music itself.
It was an appropriate award for the artist who only last year released the powerful single, “Women Rule.” As Russell says, “You know, I am a woman-lover. I believe in women, and I want women to do good, and I have even been ugly and kind of mean to men over my career and in life! It’s one of my favorite themes. But I’m really passionate about that. I really believe it. I just don’t think we get a good enough shake and that we’re still trying to overcome that.”
Saturday’s ceremony, then, meant a great deal to Russell. “Memphis doesn’t support the blues or the Memphis Blues Society like it could, you know,” she says. “I just wish there were more people that cared, but at the same time, it was just a big, warm hug. And for me personally, Wayne and James and Sally were there, and they were at the very first gig I ever played at RP Tracks.”
Memphis Blues Society president Angela Ghoreishi and Russell at last Saturday’s event (Photo: Mark Cardwell)
That would be Wayne Russell, her husband and bass player; drummer James Cunningham; and longtime friend Sally Raburn, who, Russell says, “has been a music fan her whole life.”
Speaking of that first RP Tracks show back at the dawn of the ’80s, accompanied by her husband-to-be and Cunningham, Russell says today, “I told the dude who was giving me a ride there, my friend Bill Turner, ‘Take me home. I don’t want to do this. I’m scared!’” Luckily for the club-goers that night, Turner stayed the course.
But it was still nerve-racking for the young singer. “I pretty much sang with my back to the audience,” she laughs, and that was not lost on Raburn. “She was the one who, at the end of that night, came up and said, ‘You are an amazing singer, but you know, it’d be nice if we could see your face. You should turn around while you’re singing!’”
It may be hard for today’s fans to reconcile that stage fright with the bold, bawdy blues (and soul and rock) singer they know. That’s summed up by longtime Memphis multi-instrumentalist and erstwhile guitarist for the Reba Russell band, Paul Taylor, now living in Wisconsin. “You could ask anybody about Reba,” he says, “and they would say that she’s one of the most electrifying vocalists you’ll ever hear in person, and she never fails to deliver, and she has the same powerful voice that she’s had for her entire career. I just marvel at her every time because she just has such an intense power.”
That power was apparent to friends who heard her even before that first show, and Russell credits their encouragement as a key motivator back in those early days. Through a series of bands, first Visions, then Portrait, and finally Reba and the Portables, Russell, Wayne, and a rotating cast of band members took the city by storm, performing mainly covers at clubs like Solomon Alfred’s or the Bombay Bicycle Club. In the meantime, the singer and her bassist were clicking romantically, marrying in 1986.
Yet on her journey, from the Portables becoming one of the city’s premier cover bands, to a production deal with Chips Moman, to finally leaning into singing and recording her originals with the Reba Russell Band, the singer has remained appreciative of friends who helped her along the way. At Saturday’s event, Russell says, “I just got up there and praised Memphis and Memphis musicians and producers and engineers and everybody who perpetuates the whole blues scene. Because, you know, I had no experience when I started. I came here and, boom, everybody helped me. Nobody was ugly to me or told me to go away. So I was just trying to express my appreciation to the fabulous musicians in this town, many of whom aren’t here anymore, that have left the planet, yet were so instrumental in helping me and other people get on our feet and become worthy and hard-working musicians.”
That gratitude extended to her fellow awardees as well. “It was really awesome to be included in that group because there were some really cool other people that were given awards that night,” says Russell, noting that it reflected well on the the Memphis Blues Society. Founded in 2005, it gave aid to blues artists during Covid, then launched its Lifetime Achievement Awards in 2021
“There are blues purists, and then there are people who are into opening the blues up,” she observes. “It was really cool that Al Kapone was honored last night, and he spoke about that. He has been advocating and adding a blues feel and blues themes to his rap, and I’m sure that there are a lot of blues purists who kind of thumb their nose at that. But from my point of view, it’s absolutely amazing that he’s doing that, and teaching kids, and passing that blues legacy on. I really enjoyed his speech. What he said was really important.”
Reflecting a bit more on the evening and Al Kapone, she continues, “I think he was as proud as I was about receiving the award. And, you know, he’s a lot younger than I am, and he’s got a long time to perpetuate his artistry. So yeah, that part was lovely to me because it was about the continuation of this genre. It’s important for younger people to get hip to it.”
In these fraught days of authoritarianism and climate change, when our fate depends more than ever on local community action, music continues to seal the bonds between those fighting the good fight. It’s an age-old function of song, for songs are both rousing and inherently inclusive, spreading equally to all eardrums in the vicinity. America has a tradition of protest and organizing songs going back more than a century, from Joe Hill and the Wobblies, to singing through megaphones at Occupy Wall Street, to today’s pop songs at political rallies or in countless poetry-song slams across the land.
It was no accident, then, that Bruce and Barbara Newman’s mutual love of folk music and the blues led them to create a concert series celebrating both music and community action simultaneously. And, appropriately enough, it started back in the ’90s with the music of Woody Guthrie. “My law practice was starting to represent folk musicians like Tom Paxton and Dave Van Ronk, a whole bunch of them,” says Bruce Newman. “So we started calling on these people to play music concerts, each one for different charitable beneficiaries. The first one we did was a tribute to Woody Guthrie, and we had Odetta, Oscar Brand, Richie Havens, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, Tom Paxton, and Josh White Jr. on that first bill. And the second one had Tom Paxton and Oscar Brand again, plus Melanie, Roger McGuinn, and Tom Rush.”
Those early concerts became Acoustic Sunday Live, an annual tradition unlike any other in Memphis, now in its third decade. And that last headliner from the early days — veteran singer-songwriter Tom Rush — is significant because he hasn’t been back since then. But it wasn’t for lack of trying.
“I consider Tom Rush a friend,” says Newman. “I see him at Folk Alliance [International] every year. And I bugged him for 20 years, ‘Tom, when are you coming back?’ Well, he always had a conflict the first week in December, right when we always have our concert. But this past summer he said, ‘Bruce, if you move it one week, I’m coming down. It’s a good cause. It’s important.’ And that’s what we did.”
Booking Rush, a diehard pioneer of the folk club scene whose first album came out in 1965, would be a coup for any folk festival, but this year’s Acoustic Sunday Live will also feature Shakura S’Aida, Steve Forbert, and Tim Easton, not to mention special guests Anne Harris and Marcella Simien. As in other years, one thing is clear: When the Newmans get their Acoustic Sunday on, they don’t play.
While finally getting Rush back was a challenge, it was especially significant both because of his ties to the series’ earliest days and because of his role in the ’60s folk revival. Like many folkies of that era, Rush had a great love of Woody Guthrie and classic Appalachian and Southern folk songs when he launched his career as a young English major at Harvard, filling his first albums with such material. But he had too much curiosity to be a pure traditionalist, and, as the ’60s wore on, he filled out his repertoire with songs as disparate as Bo Diddley’s “You Can’t Judge a Book by Its Cover” and Joni Mitchell’s “The Circle Game.”
That eclecticism has marked Rush’s career ever since, setting him apart from the “more authentic than thou” folk set. “I’ve never been accused of being pure,” Rush quips today. “Early on, when I started out in Cambridge, Massachusetts, there was this big folk scene going on, with people playing all kinds of different traditional music. They all tended to specialize. There was one guy who did almost nothing but Woody Guthrie songs, and a band that did nothing but bluegrass, and another guy who did Delta Blues, or Irish-Scottish ballads, and so forth. And I tended to be the generalist.”
That doesn’t detract from the power of Rush’s music to bring folks together. Indeed, his inclusiveness only amplifies that power, even as he eschews what Bob Dylan once pejoratively dubbed “finger-pointing songs.” Part of that came down to Rush’s own sense of himself. “There’s a certain irony in a bunch of Harvard students sitting around singing about how rough it was in the coal mines,” he chuckles. “I did ramble around from genre to genre. By the time I cut my second album for Elektra, I’d run out of traditional songs that got me excited. So one side of that album was traditional songs, and the other side was me covering rock-and-roll tunes, including one that I wrote, ‘On the Road Again.’”
He also had his antennae out for a new era of songwriters. “Then the following album was The Circle Game, where I introduced [the songs of] Joni Mitchell, James Taylor, and Jackson Browne because nobody really had heard of them before. That was a further switch away from traditional folk. These three brilliant writers came at me from different directions, but they were writing stuff that was dazzlingly great, yet not so different from folk that I couldn’t relate to it.”
His ear for a good song has served him well, up through his latest release of all originals, Gardens Old, Flowers New. Those attending Acoustic Sunday Live should expect that same soothing voice and eclectic ear that’s kept Rush, now on what he likes to call his “63rd annual farewell tour,” in demand for decades, as he swaps songs with other legendary troubadours. “I stay away from getting political on stage,” he says. “I have done shows to support various causes, but I don’t take it on stage. I think my shows should be a little bit of a vacation from problems of the world.”
Acoustic Sunday Live —The Concert to Protect Our Aquifer, presents an evening with Tom Rush, Shakura S’Aida, Steve Forbert, and Tim Easton, as well as special guests Anne Harris and Marcella Simien, at First Congregational Church, Sunday, December 15th, 7 p.m. Tickets start at $50.
