Jackson Hendrix, Gabrielle Duffie, Nakita Spencer, Lawrence Matthews
You could call them “RiverBeatniks.” They were the more than 30,000 people who attended the inaugural RiverBeat Music Festival May 3rd, 4th, and 5th in Tom Lee Park.
Matthew Burdine and Daniel Bonds Russ Thompson and Katherine TerryEmily and Will Carter
They braved periodic raindrops and often warm temps to see and hear performers, including Stax great Carla Thomas, Al Kapone, the Wilkins Sisters, Southern Avenue, Killer Mike, and Lawrence Matthews. All some music lovers needed was a blanket and a comfortable spot to kick off their shoes and experience 50 performers on five stages.
“We scanned in over 30,000 over three days,” says RiverBeat producer Jeff Bransford. “Ten-thousand a night.”
Kristin Leach and Haggard CollinsAriyanna Beecher and Miles Robinson
How did he think RiverBeat went? “Spectacular. We couldn’t be happier. The feedback we got from both patrons and artists has been overwhelming.”
And will RiverBeat return next year? “One-hundred percent,” Bransford says. No doubt about it. “We’re already planning.”
Sean Winfrey features 20 paintings in his current show. (Credit: Michael Donahue)
Sean Winfrey’s art exhibit, “Lines Apart,” honors people he has lost.
“The overall theme, I guess, would seem to be healing,” says Winfrey, 31. “With kind of the emphasis on mental health and grief.”
His big brother, the late John Winfrey, was the initial inspiration for the show. “A few years ago, my brother committed suicide. He was bipolar like me. The art just came about by me just trying to fix myself a little bit and reflect on some of the good times I’ve had with him.
“And it kind of expanded. For a while, I was losing people every other year of my life. So, it was a way for me to eternally heal.”
Winfrey is an instructor in the Cloud901 team learning lab at Benjamin L. Hooks Central Library, where he mentors young people in filmmaking, painting, and digital art. He’s also a member of the Memphis Flyer’s 20 < 30 Class of 2020.
“Lines Apart,” which will be on view through August 31st at the library, opened with a reception on July 29th.
The works in the show aren’t typical of Winfrey’s art. “I’m usually making art that is reactive in other ways — making people laugh and music videos and things like that. This is more of an internal struggle I’m trying to push out.”
“Matter” was the first painting Winfrey did for the exhibit. “It’s an abstract piece. And I continued doing this abstract method until it kind of formed into a concrete idea and concept. It’s black-and-white lines. I feel like my fascination with it came whenever I put the epoxy on and the lines started to come alive and feel like they’re moving a little bit.”
“Matter” by Sean Winfrey at “Lines Apart” (Credit: Michael Donahue)
He then began to “make more three-dimensional spaces with just these black-and-white lines. I wanted to create motion with a still image. Whenever I was creating a lot of these images, I was doing a lot of meditation. It was really just an attempt to push myself out of a dark place. I suffer from bipolar and I need to do very tedious things in order to fight through depression and fight through similar things my brother was going through.
“I think there’s a big misconception with people who commit suicide. My brother really did want to live. He just had a bad day and he didn’t have the resources to pull himself out.”
Making the paintings was therapeutic. “It gave me a source of healing. But I feel like this is relatable to anybody that’s experiencing grief.”
The exhibit features 20 paintings. “I was trying to do two paintings a week and just get lost in the process. I dropped all of my other gigs and things just to kind of focus on this. It took me nine months to finish this series.”
While he was working on the paintings, one of the teenagers he mentors at the library, Jonathan Killingsworth, looked at Winfrey’s work. “He came up and said, ‘Oh, this is really great.’ Two weeks later, he passed away from a very senseless gun crime. He got shot for a small sack of weed.”
LaQuindra Killingsworth, Chris Killingsworth, Jeremy Killingsworth, Sean Winfrey, and Amun Tyz with Winfrey’s painting of the late Jonathan Killingsworth at “Lines Apart” (Credit: Michael Donahue)
Winfrey began putting color in the paintings of people “to signify them being alive.”
Then, he says, “I just kept diving deeper. When I was in my early 20s, I lost my best friend. And it was like five years ago when I lost my nephew’s father, my brother-in-law.”
His portraits of people he has known who have died cover a span of about 10 years, Winfrey says. “Doing the portraits probably was the most therapeutic because it was like I was having a conversation with them and reflecting on a lot of memories.”
Instead of pushing away memories of these people, Winfrey decided to “dive into some of those memories and the way they impacted me and shaped me. ‘Cause I wouldn’t be the same person without any of these people.”
“Portrait Of Joey Bingham” by Sean Winfrey at “Lines Apart” (Credit: Michael Donahue)“Portrait of Mike McCabe” by Sean Winfrey at “Lines Apart” (Credit: Michael Donahue)
A native Memphian, Winfrey grew up in an artistic family. His parents are Jen and John Winfrey, owners of Winfrey Works. “My mom does all those ceramic flowers and my dad, all the metal work.”
Winfrey, whose first creative expression was writing his initials on everything he came across, wasn’t encouraged by his parents to become an artist. “My mom always told me not to become an artist because I’ll be broke. But I did anyway.”
Street art was his first artistic endeavor. “I was projecting big images of zebras and things. Spray painting them on walls around the city. There are still some around. I kind of slowed down on that when I was 18 because I didn’t want to go to jail.”
He created paintings on canvas using stencils while at Overton High School. “I did a lot of work about Memphis and about the history of Memphis. Like I did a lot of MLK paintings and just paintings of our trolleys. That was mostly high school. And when I went to college, I mostly focused on cartoons.”
The last pieces he did at Memphis College of Art were rotoscopes. “It’s basically taking film and tracing over each frame.”
“Suits,” which featured images of himself, was Sean Winfrey’s first experimental music video. (Credit: Sean Winfrey)“Bad Scientist” (Credit: Sean Winfrey)
“Drift,” one of those pieces, is “about floating through life. Letting things affect you as you walk through life. Each little clip was a different obstacle. Like me climbing up a hill, climbing up a ladder, jumping off of something. And it all looped back to me going to sleep.”
That film was “just about the day to day struggle.”
Which Winfrey knew first hand. “I had a big struggle with my mental health. When I was in college, I had to take a couple of months off to come back to grips. I fell into a psychosis because I lost my best friend and it kind of threw me out of reality for a while.”
When he was in high school, Winfrey tried to take his own life by taking pills. “I was like 15 or 16. And I had to get hospitalized. I feel like that’s another big reason why I like working with kids around that age.”
Approaching adulthood and starting to think, “What am I going to do with my life?” when you’re that age is “very stressful,” Winfrey says. He wants to help kids “not feel so weighted down by adulthood.”
After he graduated from college, Winfrey worked as a creative producer for about five years at ABC-24. He began freelancing after he left that job. “I was doing a lot of skit shows and comedy skits with some friends of mine. They’re still on the Internet somewhere.”
He began working with Graham Brewer, who introduced him to his dad, filmmaker Craig Brewer. Craig introduced him to Muck Sticky, who then introduced him to Al Kapone. “We made a music video with Al Kapone and Muck Sticky cause he [Kapone] liked my work.”
Winfrey began making cinemagraphs. “It’s kind of like a photo that is slightly animated in that all the photos come alive.”
He made the water, wind, and the Hernando de Soto Bridge move in a cinemagraph in Kapone’s “Oh Boy” video.
Al Kapone’s “Oh Boy” (Credit: Sean Winfrey)
Winfrey also worked on a podcast with the performer, FreeSol, for about a year and a half.
He made a video of rapper DaBaby at Beale Street Music Festival.
DaBaby at Beale Street Music Festival (Credit: Sean Winfrey)
He included his work in Indie Memphis Film Festival, where his “Oh Boy”video came in number two in the Hometowner Music Videos category in 2019.
Winfrey’s creativity doesn’t stop at filmmaking and painting. “I also design a lot of clothes. I have a website I sell clothes through. It’s called existential67.com.”
He’s also a performer. “I used to have a band in college, as well: Emojicon1967.”
Sean Winfrey’s Emojicon1967 performing at a house show (Courtesy Sean Winfrey)
Winfrey rapped and wrote poetry. “It’s a lot of poetry on top of beats. I still write often. It’s another way I express myself. We had a few albums and we put on a lot of house shows. I still rap and I still write a lot of poetry, but I haven’t really brought it out to the public yet.”
He put the pause on a lot of his creative outlets to focus on his current show. “And try to find some sort of healing. I think this is going to be ongoing. I’m not going to be completely fixed until my last day of my life, I guess.”
Future plans include his upcoming marriage to Jamie Bigham.
Sean Winfrey and his fiancé Jamie Bigham, at “Lines Apart” (Credit: Michael Donahue)
As far as maybe moving someday, Winfrey says, “I definitely want to broaden my circle and get outside of Memphis. But I feel like there’s a lot of work that can be done on the ground floor here. And there’s a lot of talented people to work with constantly. I love working with kids and doing something for the community. That’s really fulfilling.”
And, he says, “My main goal is to be financially independent with only my art.”
But if he ever does move to another city, Winfrey says, “I’ve always got to come back to Memphis to drink the water. Because I guess there’s something in it.”
Keshia Williams, Taylor Jackson, Amanda Willoughby, Janay Kelley at “Lines Apart” (Credit: Michael Donahue)Michael Donahue and Carlos Valverde at “Lines Apart” (Credit: Michael Donahue)Memphis Public Libraries director Keenon McCloy and Sean Winfrey at “Lines Apart” (Credit: Michael Donahue)(Credit: Michael Donahue)We Saw You
Jacir is directed by Waheed AlQawasmi, an immigrant from the Middle East who landed in Memphis two decades ago. Set in the director’s adopted hometown, it arrives in theaters amidst a storm of controversy. A lawsuit by the film’s first producer Amy Williams alleges an abusive working environment on set, culminating in wrongful termination, and a number of financial improprieties. It’s never a good sign when the behind-the-scenes drama overshadows the story on the screen. If it’s any consolation to all those involved in the ongoing turmoil, at least it wasn’t for nothing. Jacir is an artistic success.
You probably know Memphis is a poor city, but how poor is it, in the big picture? Last Sunday, the New York Times published a story on the twentieth anniversary of the Iraq War. Writer Alissa J. Rubin notes that “About a quarter of Iraqis live at or below the poverty line, according to Iraq’s Planning Ministry.”
According to U of M’s 2021 Memphis Poverty Fact Sheet, 24.6 percent of the city’s adults and 39.6 percent of children live at or below the poverty level.
That’s right — Memphis, Tennessee, USA, is as poor as Iraq, the county we destroyed on a whim two decades ago. During the course of the invasion, and the eight-year occupation, the U.S. military killed approximately 80,000 enemy combatants and 200,000 civilians. ISIS formed to fill the power vacuum in the northwestern part of Iraq, sparking a series of conflicts that spread to Syria, where a multi-pronged civil war still occasionally flares up. Millions of people fleeing the fighting are now refugees, spread out across the world.
Tutweezy and Malik Rahbani in Jacir. (Credit: WAFilms)
In Jacir, Malik Rahbani stars as young man from the destroyed city of Aleppo, Syria, who fled the fighting and made it all the way to Memphis. His entire family is dead, and the former architecture student is now a dishwasher at a Middle Eastern restaurant run by the acerbic Adam (Tony Mehanna). He gets in the good graces of fellow kitchen staffer Jerome (Tutweezy) by telling him Adam is calling him the n-word in Arabic.
When Jacir walks through the urban blight of South Memphis, with gunfire echoing in the distance, he can’t help but be reminded of the bombed-out streets of Aleppo, and wonders if he has come to “a worse shithole.” As he stares at pictures of his dead family on his cracked smartphone screen and plays Al Kapone on his scavenged stereo, he hears anti-immigrant Fox News rants coming through the walls. His neighbor Meryl (Lorraine Bracco) is a disabled retiree who has given up on life. “I like drinking by myself now,” she tells her last friend who tries to coax her back to the land of the living. Instead, she chooses to soothe her pain with racist grievance and oxycontin.
Lorraine Bracco in Jacir. (Credit WAFilms)
Raised in a tradition of kindness towards strangers, Jacir wants to help his neighbor, to prove that he’s a nice guy, not a dirty animal. But she pushes back, continually insulting him even after he saves her from a burglary. Jacir’s immigration officer (Mark Jeffrey Miller) is not happy about his charge showing up on police reports, no matter what the reason. He threatens Jacir with deportation, even though he has no place to go.
What Jacir, Jerome, and Meryl all have in common is that they are members of the disposable class that their governments and economic systems have tossed on the trash heap. Their challenge is to figure out how to carve out space for themselves while learning to accept the humanity of their fellow strugglers. They want to live, to create, to pursue happiness in their own way, but whether it’s Fallujah or Allepo or Memphis, they’re all in the same place.
These are well-trod roads. Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing, with its restaurant setting and casually racist owner, is a clear inspiration. Tutweezy’s aspiring rapper is right out of Craig Brewer’s Hustle & Flow, and AlQawasmi indulges in Brewer-esque montages for several character beats. The cinematography by Memphis lenser Ryan Earl Parker is excellent at evoking both the bleakness of the impoverished settings and the city’s unpredictable bursts of beauty.
But it’s the performances that really make Jacir. Rahbani, who looks like John Cusack by way of Beirut, goes from wide-eyed vulnerability to flinty cynicism while holding on to the human core of his character. Bracco brings out the pain, confusion, and denial behind the devotion of many Trumpist cultists. Miller, Tutweezy, and Leila Almas Rose as Adam’s sympathetic daughter Nadia all deliver solid turns.
Jacir’s jacket. (Credit: WAFilms)
There is a long tradition in art of the enfant terrible, the troubled visionary whose rages and cruelty go hand in hand with their undeniable talent. Some see Welles’ tantrums, Hitchcock’s misogyny, Goddard’s abusiveness, Polanski, and Singer’s sex crimes as part of a package with their brilliance. In fact, these great men — and notice, they’re all men — were held back by their bad behavior. Their films succeeded in spite of, not because of, the rampant assholery. They were saved by crews who knew how to behave professionally, even when their leaders failed to. The days of John Ford slugging whiskey while directing a cavalry charge are over, mostly thanks to crews who refuse to put up with it in the wake of #MeToo and several recent high-profile on-set fatalities. In this case, it’s a real shame, because Jacir is a legitimately remarkable achievement, both in artistic and business terms. Is that what it will be remembered for?
Dionne Warwick was the featured performer at the Schedit Family Performing Arts Centre. With her are the Scheidt children: Susan Arney, Helen Gronauer, Rudi Scheidt Jr., and Elkan Scheidt (Credit: Al Kapone)
Covering the February 4th grand opening gala for the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center at University of Memphis brought back fond memories of the late Honey and Rudi Scheidt.
A photo of the couple appeared with the first party I ever covered. It was a visit to Memphis by the Metropolitan Opera. The after-party was at the old Justine’s restaurant. It was in 1980, when I was working for the Memphis Press-Scimitar.
I wasn’t taking photos back then, so the photographer on the assignment took the the picture of the Scheidts. But I took many pictures of the couple later on. I saw the Scheidts at concerts, art exhibit openings, and other cultural events and fund-raisers over several decades.
I got to know Honey and Rudi, and I was always happy to see them at parties. I loved Honey’s graciousness and Rudi’s wit. They were friendly and fun. And I got to know their children — Susan Arney, Rudi Scheidt Jr., Elkan Scheidt, and Helen Gronauer.
The Scheidts were big supporters of Memphis music. In 2000, Rudi gave his first donation for the Rudi E. Scheidt School of Music at U of M, Arney says. “He gave a huge donation to improve the program and they named it after him,” Arney says.
“They wanted to keep Memphis on the map as far as music,” Gronauer told the audience during the concert portion of the evening. She and her brothers and sister took the stage and talked about their parents and the legacy they left.
Ironically, Elkan said, “None of us can sing a tune.”
The Scheidts are continuing to keep Memphis on the map through their philanthropy. “We Zoom every Monday morning to talk,” Arney says.
And that will continue with the next generation of 11 grandchildren, she adds. “Just any kind of cause, whether charity or not, that we can help make Memphis a better city.”
Susan Arney, Rudi Scheidt Jr., Caryn Scheidt, Kyle Polack, Rachel Polack, Ezra Polack, Lindsay Grass, David Grass, Helen Gronauer, Mimi Scheidt at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)Laurie and Elkan Scheidt at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)The Scheidt children — Helen Gronauer, Elkan Scheidt, Rudi Scheidt Jr., and Susan Arney — on stage at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)
Kevin Sanders, director of the Rudi E. Scheidt School of Music, at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)
The gala concert featured the University Symphony Orchestra, University Singers, and the Mighty Sound of the South Pep Band.
Al Kapone, who performed at Rudi’s birthday parties in February for years at the Germantown Performing Arts Centre, was master of ceremonies.
Yours truly with David and Yvonne Acey and Al Kapone at the after party at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. Al Kapone was master of ceremonies at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)
Dionne Warwick was the featured performer. Warwick, who complimented the U of M performers, also sang just about every one of her hit songs by Burt Bacharach and Hal David. Her more-than-an-hour-long concert included “Message to Michael,” “Do You Know the Way to San Jose,” “I’ll Never Fall in Love Again,” and “Anyone Who Had a Heart.”
She performed duets with her drummer, the fantastic David Elliott.
Warwick invited the audience to sing along with “That’s What Friends Are For.” Instead of the lighters music fans once used to show their appreciation back in the day, audience members at the gala waved their lit cell phones.
Dionne Warwick at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)Drummer/vocalist David Elliott performs with Dionne Warwick at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)
The evening began with a tour of the building and continued with dinner in a tent. Following the concert, guests returned to the tent for music and dancing to The Bar-Kays. And Krystal hamburgers and Gibson’s doughnuts.
The crowd gets into it at the after party featuring The Bar-Kays at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)James Alexander of The Bar-Kays at the after party at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)The Bar-Kays perform at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)
Asked what she thought about the evening, Arney says, “It was magical. To me, for a building opening for the first time and everything being new — all employees, all visitors, all community — and you’re student based, there was nothing that I noticed that went wrong. And truly better than I would have ever expected.”
The 82,000 square-foot Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center cost around $40,000,000, Arney says.
The building is paid for, but much more is needed for the center, Arney told the audience. For instance, they need $1.5 million dollars for grand pianos. The pianos cost $200,000 apiece, she said.
I think it’s safe to say Rudi and Honey would have given the gala a thumbs up. “I know they’re here tonight looking at all of us,” Rudi Jr. said.
Jimmy Tashie, Nancy Tashie, and Rabbi Micah Greenstein at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)Mario Monterosso, Dabney Coors, and Kortland Whalum at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)Billy Orgel and that writer guy at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Billy Orgel)Merry and Johnny Moore at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)Mike and Sharon Goldstein at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)Kathy and Roger Sapp at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)Kate Duignan and Chris Peck at the Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center gala. (Credit: Michael Donahue)We Saw You
Gangsta Boo and Al Kapone in 2019 (Photo: Courtesy Al Kapone)
Lil Wyte began listening to Gangsta Boo when she was in Three 6 Mafia. He was 12.
“She had the hardest verses,” Wyte says. “About demonic, crazy, insane shit. I was scared. It intrigued me because it was such a talented female rapper that could be that cutthroat on the microphone.”
Adds Al Kapone: “Very few female rappers can hold their own with the male rappers.”
Boo was “as strong as her male counterparts, but she didn’t lose her femininity in the process. She was able to spar toe-to-toe with the male artists.”
Kapone and fellow rapper Wyte reminisced about Gangsta Boo, who died January 1st in Memphis.
Born in Whitehaven, “Gangsta Boo” was her stage name. Her real name was Lola Chantrelle Mitchell.
Wyte was hooked after he heard Boo on “I Don’t Love ’Em” on Kingpin Skinny Pimp’s album, King of da Playaz Ball. “It was just her word play,” he says. “Her lyrics and her cadence and the way she could talk so much crap, and she was only like 16, 17 at that time.”
Lil Wyte first met Gansta Boo in 2001 when he signed to Three 6 Mafia’s record label. (Photo: Courtesy Lil Wyte)
Wyte met Boo in 2001 after he was signed to Three 6 Mafia’s label. “She was not too thrilled — being honest — about singing with a white artist. She felt like Three 6 Mafia had all they needed. Years later, we talked about it and joked about it and became friends.”
He was executive producer for Gangsta Boo and La Chat on the 2014 album, Witch. That album is “probably the hardest gangsta rap album to ever come out of Memphis. One of those gems that’s been overlooked. I love the album. It’s like they were playing tennis on it. Going back and forth. Boom. Boom. Boom. Just every single. Just killing every bit of it.”
Kapone met Boo in the mid ’90s. “Whenever me and Boo, throughout the years, saw each other it was always love,” he says. “She always showed me the utmost respect. She always gave me props. Let me know my early music inspired her and motivated her.”
He remembers her quoting the words to his song, “Lyrical Drive By.” “It’s one of the first early Memphis rap songs that inspired a lot of the Memphis rappers. And she let it be known that song did it for her.”
They did a song together, “Girls Like to Get Rich,” in 2015. “Her voice had a level of aggression, but it was totally feminine.
“She could rap slow styles or speed up rapid-flow style. Like really, really transition between those two styles with ease.”
Over the years, Kapone and Boo “kept in touch through texts. We always commented on each other’s Instagram posts. Again, always giving each other love and props.”
Wyte and his wife, Nicole Lanshaw, kept in touch with Boo after she moved to Los Angeles about two years ago. “She did a lot of cool little podcasts with people out there,” Wyte says. “She got more into the online scene.
“We were just together two weeks ago. Laughing, smiling, doing great. Everybody had money in their pockets. Everybody looked good, smelled good. She had that look of success. So for that to happen two weeks later was like, ‘Wow.’”
Wyte won’t forget when he heard Boo died. “All of us have that last date on that calendar.”
He got a call while he and Lanshaw were driving back to Memphis from a concert. Lanshaw started crying, but Wyte held it together. “Nicole told me Gangsta Boo would call me a bitch right now if she saw me crashing.”
Kapone was at an airport when he heard the news. He believes Boo was about to get a “whole new resurgence” among artists. “The new generation of female artists was going to give her her props and let people know she was their influence and she supported them.”
These rappers include GloRilla and Gloss Up out of Memphis and Latto out of Atlanta. Kapone believes these artists feel, “We’re here because of her.”
Those women were going to “take her to a whole new level. Give her a whole new resurgence.
“The writing was on the wall: 2023 was going to be a big year for Gangsta Boo. And to lose her the first day was unbelievable.”
“This city’s filled with reasons to kill, but everyone wants to play the blues.” So lamented the Lost Sounds over 20 years ago on their Black-Wave album, and that sentiment, that palpable frustration, was easy to relate to at the time. For youth on the edge of alternative culture, the blues could feel soul-crushing, especially in Memphis, especially on Beale Street. Somehow, it felt like the sound of complacency. I was certainly too snobbish to play Beale Street back at the end of the last century, and I was not alone.
One group, though, worked Beale Street to their advantage in those days. Luther and Cody Dickinson formed the North Mississippi Allstars with Chris Chew and played Beale Street clubs almost from the beginning, relentlessly refining their blues-based rock and funk there, night after night. Over the decades, with a few other like-minded souls, the two brothers have stayed the course, and their ceaseless experimentation has left in its wake a revelation: The blues are extremely mutant-friendly.
Indeed, the blues may be more open to cross-pollination, hybridization, and evolution than any other genre, and that’s never been more apparent than today. After decades of bubbling under the surface, from the Delta to the Hill Country to the gritty, grinding streets of Memphis, the blues have soaked up something from the sands. And now, once again, the creature is stirring.
A New Era “The blues is dead!” quips Bruce Watson, co-founder of Fat Possum Records, the label that first made its mark with hitherto under-recognized artists like R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough, among others. Then he laughs out loud. “I’m kidding. That’s been our catchphrase for 30 years. Actually, the blues may kind of die down, but there always seems to be somebody who starts the flame again. If you look at The Black Keys’ record from last year [Delta Kream], they were reaching back into the old Fat Possum catalog for most of that. That’s pretty great. It introduces a whole different audience to the blues. These days, it definitely feels like something’s happening.”
That sentiment is shared by many with their fingers on the pulse of the music. “There is a new appreciation for what the blues is and what the blues is all about,” says Judith Black, president and CEO of the Blues Foundation.
Rapper Al Kapone, who we’ll return to later, also knows a thing or two about the blues, and agrees with Black. “A new era of the blues has begun, and it’s needed,” he says. “It’s a great thing to witness. We’re right at the beginning stages of something going on. It’s really cool to see.”
And Christone “Kingfish” Ingram, whose 662 won a Grammy for Best Contemporary Blues Album earlier this year, says, “There’s definitely a new vibe. A crop of young people are coming out of the woodwork, more young people of color. So there’s a big resurgence of the blues at the moment.”
Cedric Burnside (Photo Courtesy: Reed Watson)
Nostalgic and Futuristic — at the Same Time Just what specifically is changing is harder to define. One sign came with last year’s release of I Be Trying, by Cedric Burnside, grandson of the great R.L. Burnside. Originally a drummer, he came of age on the road with R.L. and close family friend Kenny Brown, during a time when R.L. enjoyed a revival of sorts, on Fat Possum and elsewhere. Now, being steeped in the North Mississippi Hill Country blues that his grandfather typified, Burnside has appropriately been named a National Heritage Fellow by the National Endowment for the Arts, a sort of guardian of the Hill Country tradition.
The irony is that, despite such historical bona fides, Burnside has forged a style all his own. With a clean, percussive guitar style, likely derived from his years behind the drums, he lays down riffs and snatches of melody that lean heavily on the blues but also evoke echoes of soul and gospel. As with classic Hill Country blues, there’s still a hypnotic quality, but with less distortion (an innovation in itself in R.L.’s day) and a greater sense of playfulness. With the quality and care put into this very intimate-sounding recording, it’s no wonder he took home the Grammy for Best Traditional Blues Album this year, and yet Burnside defies tradition as well. As producer Boo Mitchell says, “It’s nostalgic and futuristic at the same time. It captures all the spookiness of the old deep blues, and it still sounds current. Some of those tracks could be in a Wu-Tang sample.”
Paradoxically, such innovation sits comfortably within the Hill Country tradition. At Kenny Brown’s North Mississippi Hill Country Picnic, taking place this week, June 24th-25th, and now in its 16th year, tradition and innovation sit side by side. Many of the region’s great musical families are represented by performers like Robert Kimbrough Sr., Kent Burnside, Duwayne Burnside, and Garry Burnside, not to mention Shardé Thomas and R.L. Boyce, who both started out in the great Othar Turner’s fife and drum corps, but the tradition of innovation will also have its hour, with longtime blues genre-benders like the North Mississippi Allstars and Alvin Youngblood Hart.
Though Cedric Burnside will not perform there this year, his unique sound may be a direct result of the tradition’s innovative side. As David Evans, a former ethnomusicology instructor at the University of Memphis and highly regarded authority on local blues, notes, “People have identified Cedric, either rightly or wrongly, with this Hill Country sound or style. And he’s supposed to be upholding that, and that might be a little restrictive. He seems like a guy who likes to explore.”
Or, as Burnside himself puts it, “Different, to me, has always been a great thing. I always wanted to be different.”
Too Young to Remember, Old Enough to Know If Cedric Burnside, now 43, seems to have reinvented the blues based on years of playing with his elders, followed by a lifetime of painstaking craftsmanship in search of something different, others are doing the same simply by virtue of their youth. Clarksdale’s Christone “Kingfish” Ingram is the perfect example, and the twin Grammys won by Ingram and Burnside this year are, in a sense, two sides of the same shiny new blues coin.
Twenty years younger than Burnside, Ingram has brought a new energy to the blues of the Mississippi Delta by virtue of having grown up with all the world’s music at his fingertips, even as he matured into a die-hard devotee of the blues. “When I was growing up, my mom played everything, from ’60s soul to Bon Jovi to Patti LaBelle,” he says. “I was always hearing different styles of music. And pretty much all of that inspired me to infuse that into the blues and make my own little genre, for lack of a better term.”
At the time, simply embracing the blues felt like a radical act. “When I went to school, other young kids were more into rap and everything like that. The blues was almost taboo. But now, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve seen more kids in my generation gravitating toward it.” Ingram himself led the charge, diving wholeheartedly into educational programs sponsored by the Delta Blues Museum in his hometown.
“My instructors were actual bluesmen, Bill ‘Howl-n-Mad’ Perry and Richard ‘Daddy Rich’ Crisman. They were my teachers and my mentors of the blues, from the time when I played bass through when I got into guitar. And when they found out I had a little voice, they even pushed me to sing. There were even times when we would do readings. It was a full-on educational class, for sure. And it still goes on today.”
It’s an outcome that historians and supporters of the blues, such as those behind the Delta Blues Museum, can only dream of — until their efforts actually culminate in a phenomenal artist like Kingfish Ingram. And much of that can be put down to Ingram’s unique personality, his uncanny feel for the traditions that came before. “I’m too young to remember,” he sings on one track, “but I’m old enough to know.”
While the overall sound of 662 (name-checking Clarksdale’s area code) has an up-tempo drive and bounce that ranges from the hard rock power chords of “Not Gonna Lie” to the mellow soul stylings of “Another Life Goes By” or even alternative balladry like “Rock & Roll,” his voice grounds it all with a weathered worldliness. And somehow that voice comes through his guitar as well. As Boo Mitchell says, “He’s literally one of the most talented and prolific guitar players of our time. He plays with the feel of an 80-year-old man. How can you have that much soul? You’re only 20-somethin’! Kingfish is incredible. His voice, too.”
Not all blues fans feel that way, however. The blues genre in particular has always been plagued with fans who love only that which does not evolve: the purists. “It’s been something I struggled with because trying to get accepted by the purists has always been something I wracked my head over,” reflects Ingram. “In some ways, I’m just getting over it. But I look at it like this: One of the ways I’ve gotten young people into the blues is by mixing other genres into it. But here’s where the tricky part comes in: You don’t want to mix too much, to where it becomes something else. But as far as keeping it pure, I think the more you hear the blues or things that are blues-inspired, it’ll always be pure. When Albert King did his funkiness, you could hear the blues in his funkiness. For me, it’s all pure. Whatever comes from the heart is pure.”
Memphissippi Sounds (Photo: Peter Lee)
The Soundtrack of Our Lives If Ingram felt like an outsider among the Black peers of his youth, who gravitated more toward rap, that distinction is coming to mean less and less as the new blues arise out of the landscape today. It’s something that Judith Black noticed soon after taking the helm at the Blues Foundation. “A new duo called Memphissippi Sounds performed at the Blues Music Awards, and right before the ceremony I saw them practice and had an opportunity to meet them. And they don’t necessarily look like your typical blues artist. They look like hip-hop artists. And their sound is kind of a combination of hip-hop and soul and blues. More blues than anything — they’re definitely blues. And I think artists like them are starting to attract a younger crowd, listeners who would not typically choose to listen to blues. So it’s emerging.”
To Black, whose childhood was steeped in older blues thanks to her father, a collector and independent scholar, such emerging connections make perfect sense. “I think there’s a new appreciation for the history that comes with the blues. In this time of racial reckoning, the blues puts that history in perspective. It was the soundtrack of the Civil Rights Movement, the soundtrack of our lives as we’ve moved from the late 1800s all the way up to now. I’ve looked at the lyrics of artists from, say, the early 1900s, and some of us talk about young hip-hop artists and their lyrics nowadays, but once you listen to those early lyrics, they make most rap lyrics look like nursery rhymes!”
Al Kapone (Photo: Jenny Max)
Black’s words unwittingly echo the thoughts of one of Memphis’ most iconic rappers, Al Kapone. Appearing at the Beale Street Music Festival this spring, Kapone sealed his legendary status once more as he led a crowd of thousands in the chorus of “Whoop That Trick,” the song he penned for Craig Brewer’s film, Hustle & Flow, now chanted regularly at every hometown Memphis Grizzlies game. But mixed in with Kapone’s classics was a new batch of tunes, the culmination of an epiphany that struck the rapper only recently.
“Being a rapper from Memphis, I realized no one from the rap community has embraced something that’s so uniquely Memphis as the blues. When it hit me, I was like, ‘This can’t be!’ It just hit me, I’ve gotta really, fully embrace it and represent the blues. And I wanted to do that in the Memphis rap style. Because the Memphis rap sound is unique in itself. So I figured if I could marry the two, I’d be coming up with something that’s doubly unique.”
Marrying the two genres has been the focus of Kapone’s most recent singles, and at the Beale Street Music Festival, it hit home in a powerful way. As doom-laden beats pounded on in classic Memphis fashion, a new layer of sound also appeared: the dark, heavy wail of an electric guitar, pushed to its limits, ricocheting off the walls of the nearby Mid-South Coliseum and across the cityscape. It was an aesthetic shot across the bow.
“I was like, ‘How can this not have been done, this far into the musical era we’re in? There’s no way!’ I felt it was my duty and my honor to marry those genres together in a way that only a Memphis OG rapper could. And I’m very happy to wave the flag.” For Kapone, independently echoing Black’s remarks, it provides a direct connection to history. “I listen to a lot of the older blues records, and when I listen to the words, I’m like, ‘Lyrically, this is just as raw as hip-hop!’ The lyrics are as raw as the street. They talk about gambling, somebody getting their gun, somebody messing with their whatever. [laughs] You can get a glimpse of street life way back then, listening to those songs. I feel their era connecting with our era, with the same kinds of stories.”
Now the rapper has just released the culmination of this epiphany, an EP titled Blues Rap Music, which gathers a handful of singles he’s recently done that capture this approach. One track, “Dead and Gone,” even features a renowned Memphis guitarist who first rose to fame when Al Kapone was just getting started in the hip-hop game: Eric Gales. And his very involvement serves as an object lesson that the generic boundaries between blues and hip-hop are not hard and fast.
“In the ’90s,” Kapone recalls, “a lot of people in the blues world had no idea that Eric rapped on a lot of Three 6 Mafia mix tapes. He went by the name of Lil E. And he had a cool personality and identity. So I knew him from then. The underground Memphis rap world, the mixtape world, had no idea he was a guitar player, and people in the blues guitar world had no idea he was a rapper!”
Now it’s come full circle, as the two musical cultures that have put Memphis on the map converge. The blues, as Judith Black likes to say, is continually emerging. And lately, the blues has got a whole new bag. As Bruce Watson says, “The blues is dead!” Long live the blues.
Stone Temple Pilots singer Jeff Gutt performs at Beale Street Music Festival 2022. (Photo by Chris McCoy).
The second day of the 2022 Beale Street Music Festival began without the logistical headaches of the first day, but under ominous clouds. Nevertheless, for as long as the weather held, the vibes were good, while the music ranged from the passable to the sublime.
This time, it was my personal logistical problems that led me to miss opener Blvck Hippie, one of Memphis’ coolest current rock acts. As Alex Greene reported in his Flyer cover story, this year featured more Memphis artists than ever before. Judging from the reactions our folks have been eliciting from the throngs gathered in the shadow of the Coliseum, increasing the locals’ main stage time is the best decision Memphis in May has made in a long time.
Lil Wyte whooping it with Al Kapone in the shadow of the Liberty Bowl.
The weekend has been a Memphis hip-hop homecoming. Friday night’s Three 6 Mafia set was literally the boom heard round the town. Lil Wyte’s show became a bone-shaking Frayser reunion, with Al Kapone joining the show to whip the crowd into a frenzy with the weekend’s umpteenth “Whoop That Trick.”
Ayron Jones in action on the Bud Light stage.
Across the former fairgrounds, Ayron Jones’s guitar heroics made ’70s-derived hard rock feel fresh. The razor sharp band’s music is made for the wide open spaces of the outdoor music festival. When they closed with a searing cover of Jimi Hendrix’s “Voodoo Chile,” I was reminded that I heard that song at my very first Beale Street Music Festival, when headliner Stevie Ray Vaughn tore it up three months before his death in 1990.
John Németh guests on harp with Mitch Wood and His Rocket 88s in the Blues Tent.
Here’s a tip from a seasoned BSMF rat: It’s always a good idea to pop into the Blues Tent for a minute to sit down and cool off. That’s how I caught Love Light Orchestra’s John Németh blowing some harp with boogie woogie piano player Mitch Wood and his Rocket 88s.
Project Pat and his posse packing ’em in.
The biggest crowd of the day so far was Project Pat — and I’m talking about the crowd on the stage, too. The Memphis rap idol brought his entire posse onstage with him, including some young dancers from LYE Academy who threatened to steal the show. “Chickenhead” and “Slob on My Knob” had the entire fairgrounds getting buck.
Grouplove’s Christian Zucconi and Hannah Hooper.
The festival circuit, which was bigger than ever before the pandemic, can be quite lucrative for bands who can crack into it. Grouplove, originally from Seattle, is one of the groups who optimized itself for summer fun. Singer Hannah Hooper has mastered the tricky art of communicating with a huge, easily distracted audience, with colorful wardrobe and big personality. Stone Temple Pilots new front man Jeff Gutt was another skilled practitioner of the carefully considered sweeping gesture.
Britt Daniel of Spoon
After impatient chants of “We want to spoon!”, Britt Daniel’s band Spoon took the stage to give the indie rock. “Five minutes ago, we thought we weren’t going to play, because of the storm,” said Daniel. After an ominous sunset, lightning was flashing in the west.
Don Bryant lifting souls in the Blues Tent, backed by Scott Bomar and Archie “Hubie” Taylor of the Bo-Keys.
As rain began to fall in the park, I was treated to the best performance of the weekend. With the Bo-Keys swinging like a barn door behind him, Don Bryant burned down the Blues Tent. The 80-year-old singer delivered deeply impassioned readings of songs from his decades-deep catalog. As squall lines lashed the tent and people danced in the aisles, a tourist turned to me and asked in slack-jawed amazement, “Who is this guy?”
“A genius!” I yelled.
Festival goers seek shelter under the eaves of the Mid-South Coliseum as storms hit the Beale Street Music Festival.
Don was almost done with his set when the announcement came to evacuate the venue. The supercell that we had all been watching on our smartphone radar apps was dumping penny-sized hail perilously close to the park, and the powers that be finally decided to pull the plug. As we scurried for the exits, I heard a passerby say “I guess Megan didn’t want to get electrocuted.”
Figuring the show was over, I called for a ride home. But the storm passed quickly, and two hours later Megan Thee Stallion and Smashing Pumpkins finally did play to the most hardy — and presumably wettest — festivalgoers.
Three 6 Mafia on stage, with Juicy J and Gangsta Boo. (Credit: Craig Brewer)
There was a dreamlike quality to returning to the Beale Street Music Festival (BSMF) after so long. The last one was in 2019, and through the first months of the pandemic some wondered if it would ever return. But yesterday, there it was, under a brilliant, sunny sky and a balmy breeze.
Appropriately, a Memphis act kicked off my BSMF experience, as Amy LaVere and band launched into one of the most eclectic catalogs of any Memphis artist. The band, too, felt dreamy upon this return of the Memphis concert institution, and their enthusiasm was contagious as they tacked between slinky grooves, loping ballads, and full-on rock stomps. LaVere’s elation was clear as she blew the audience kisses.
Amy LaVere (Credit: Chris McCoy)
Just as they finished, the indomitable Al Kapone took to the Bud Light Stage: another hometown hero at bat. He made it clear that his staying power is unchallenged, especially in his bold genre-hopping numbers, deftly combining Memphis trap beats with wailing blues. The combination of the two is something he’s been pursuing of late, in a way that’s uniquely his, and it sounded like Memphis to these ears. When he closed with “Whoop That Trick,” which Kapone penned for Craig Brewer’s Hustle and Flow, and which has become something of an anthem at Grizzlies games, the entire festival crowd — even security guards and patrons lingering away from the stages — stood up and sang along, as he yelled, “Did you want to see us go up in flames?” and the stage erupted with fireworks in the broad daylight.
The Ferris wheel (Credit: Chris McCoy)
From there, I made my way through the huge space. One can always navigate by the huge Ferris wheel in the center of the fairgrounds, and my sense of direction was saved by it more than once. Indeed, it led me to the next act, which I had been greatly anticipating: Van Morrison.
Morrison tends to be a polarizing artist these days, partly because of his irresponsible — and very public — resistance to Covid health measures. But the power of his legacy is undeniable in this writer’s eyes, overshadowing any late-in-life choices he may be making now. And indeed, when he took to the stage in a natty blue suit, playing saxophone, all such controversy was swept away by a crowd eager to see a legend at work.
Van Morrison (Credit: Frank Chin)
The zoot suit seemed to evoke the young Van Morrison more than the controversial modern one, almost a nod to his earliest Beatnik tendencies. And the band, comprising another sax player, two guitarists, two drummers, an elderly Hammond B-3 player, a keyboardist-vibraphonist, and a back up singer, seemed to excel at the classic sounds Morrison must have grown up with, especially the light ska-like lilt of blue beat music that took the U.K. and Ireland by storm in the late ’50s and early ’60s. In fact, they opened with a peppy number in that vein, then ran through a full hour and a half of songs both old and new.
Among his classic works, standouts were “And It Stoned Me,” “Wild Night,” not to mention a blues mash-up that included Morrison singing “Parchman Farm” through his harmonica mic, adding glorious grit to the otherwise very clean band. The big finish was “Brown Eyed Girl” and “Gloria,” but for me the highlight was an extended workout of “Baby Please Don’t Go,” another gem from his time with the band Them.
From there, after a bit of fair food to bolster my energy, it was time to head back to the Bud Light Stage for the ultimate heroic homecoming: Three 6 Mafia. A huge crowd seemed to fill every nook and cranny of the area before the stage, and as the rappers assembled, complete with dozens friends and family crowding around the sides of the stage, the crowd was easily led into the call and response of “Three 6!” — “Mafia!”
Every chorus was echoed deftly by thousands of super-fans, as Juicy J and DJ Paul, joined for most of the set by Gangsta Boo, hammered out a flawless set. As one dreadlocked fan told me, “They’re at their peak! They brought out Gangsta Boo, which they haven’t done in a while, and it’s a hometown crowd. I came here just to see them. They’re so important because they connected orchestrated music with trap, and they are hittin’ it so hard right now!”
Three 6 Mafia (Credit: Joseph Mikos)
And they were, ever on-point and aware of their legacy. At one point, DJ Paul exhorted the crowd to “lift up your lighters, or your cell phones. If you ain’t got a cell phone, get the fuck outta here! Now wave them in the air.” As we all did, he announced “R.I.P. Lord Infamous,” and the crowd reflected on the life of the now deceased founding member.
An air of gratitude permeated their vibe, set off by the entourage that surrounded the performers, standing onstage with them for the entire set. And so it made a great deal of sense to end it with gratitude. “Thank you, Memphis, for listening to Three 6 for 20 years! And thank you to the Grizzlies for being great!”
With that, the night was over, but for one last flourish: fireworks that echoed throughout Midtown as we drove home, until nearly 12:30 a.m. A fitting end to a glorious return to form.
“We’re back!” There ought to be a banner with those words draped over the Hernando DeSoto Bridge this weekend, marking the grand return of the Beale Street Music Festival. After being shuttered for the last two years, making it three years since the last edition, the perennial gathering of music lovers is roaring back to life with more momentum than ever.
The typical BSMF experience always runs the spectrum from your favorite blockbuster artist to that new unheard-of band that blows your mind. And as for the former, concert-goers need little additional information on why Megan Thee Stallion, Weezer, or Van Morrison are phenomenal. But for the typical out-of-town fan, too many artists based in Memphis fall in the latter category. Naturally, given that Memphis still rules the airwaves and charts as in days of yore, plenty of our local artists need no introduction, either. But chances are good that everyone will discover something new about the Bluff City after this weekend.
Randy Blevins, vice president of marketing and programming at the Memphis in May International Festival, thinks this makes BSMF especially valuable to the city. “People talk about going to other places and exploring to learn about new music,” he says. “Most of our ticket-holders come from over 200 miles away. They’re coming from all 50 states and five or six different countries. So most of the people there are not Memphians. There are a lot of people coming here from out of town; exposing them to these Memphis acts that Memphians know and love is part and parcel of helping promote Memphis. You might show up because you bought tickets to see Counting Crows, and out of nowhere you learn about Don Bryant. The average person may or may not know about him. That’s Memphis pumping through the blood. We’re helping to spread the word.”
Sure, we all love songs by Smashing Pumpkins or DaBaby or Sarah McLachlan. Of course the Indigo Girls and Shaggy and Lindsey Buckingham are phenomenal. Toad the Wet Sprocket, Soccer Mommy, and Robert Randolph are worth a special trip. But given that it’s such a point of pride for the festival, and in light of the fact that this year’s BSMF boasts the most local acts ever — “at least over the past two decades for sure,” Blevins says — today we celebrate the native talent that makes Memphis ground zero for so much musical innovation and style. Here, by the day of their appearance, are the hometown heroes that make this music festival a little different from most.
Al Kapone (Photo: SP Stylistic Photography)
FRIDAY
Three 6 Mafia Bud Light Stage, 10:35 p.m. No group represents the staying power of Memphis hip-hop like Three 6 Mafia, who’ve parlayed their relatively obscure, ’90s cult status into global celebrity through the staying power of their game-changing beats and attitude. Now their horror-movie soundtrack to life on the Memphis streets, which won them an Oscar, has morphed into the crunk and trap genres. See where it all began.
Al Kapone Bud Light Stage, 6:15 p.m. Kapone came up alongside Three 6 Mafia back in the day, and also contributed to the award-winning Hustle & Flow soundtrack. His “Whoop That Trick” from the film lives on as an anthem for the Memphis Grizzlies. Lately, he’s become more eclectic but always grounded, telling the Memphis Flyer’s Michael Donahue: “At some point I’m still just a songwriter, a guy from the projects and the hood.”
Amy LaVere (Photo: Todd V Wolfson)
Amy LaVere Zyn Stage, 5:45 p.m. This singer, songwriter, and bassist extraordinaire is such a fixture on the local scene that it’s easy to forget that she’s a Louisiana native. It was in Memphis that she really found her voice, and she even lured her husband Will Sexton here from his native Texas. We dubbed LaVere’s most recent album, 2020’s Painting Blue, “dark and beautiful.”
Kenny Brown Coca-Cola Blues Tent, 9:05 p.m. Hailing from North Mississippi, Michael Donahue calls Brown a “Hill Country Hero.” Given the way the blues ebbs and flows, only to be reinvented by stalwart artists like Brown, that’s not an exaggeration. He learned well from the likes of R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough. No wonder his latest album, with The Black Keys and Eric Deaton, snagged a 2022 Grammy nomination.
Earl the Pearl Coca-Cola Blues Tent, 6 p.m. Born in 1936, Earl Banks is a living link to the blues in its rawest, earliest expression. Having first played with Joe Hill Louis, he went on to define the Memphis blues style for decades and can still be seen on Beale Street nearly every week. From Jimmy Reed to Howlin’ Wolf and B.B. King, Earl the Pearl makes every blues his own, with a guitar tone like quicksilver.
NLE Choppa (Photo: @damnjohnnie)
SATURDAY
NLE Choppa Zyn Stage, 7:30 p.m. With “one of the greatest flows in current hip-hop,” as M.T. Richards wrote in 2020, NLE Choppa brings a unique angle to trap music. This “creature of Memphis’ strobe-lit skating rinks” honors his Jamaican heritage by “sprinkling patois in rap’s everyday vocabulary.” He’s created a unique sound and credits his hometown: “So many good artists are in Memphis,” he says.
Project Pat Zyn Stage, 6:15 p.m. Few artists are as close to the Three 6 Mafia orbit as Project Pat, self-described brother of Juicy J, whose biggest hits were on the Hypnotize Minds label owned by J and DJ Paul. Yet Project Pat has crafted his own identity with Dirty South classics like “Chickenhead,” “Ballers,” “Don’t Save Her,” and the ever-relevant “Ghetty Green.”
Duke Deuce Zyn Stage, 4:50 p.m. With his hit single “Crunk Ain’t Dead,” Duke Deuce has let it be known where he’s coming from. Son of Duke Nitty, a producer for Gangsta Blac and Nasty Nardo, the rapper’s name-checked his hometown in debut tracks, “Memphis Massacre” and “Memphis Massacre 2.” Last year, his debut album Duke Nukem debuted at No. 3 on the Billboard Heatseekers Albums chart.
Lil Wyte Zyn Stage, 3:25 p.m. It’s no accident that Lil Wyte is a natural ally of rapper Frayser Boy. Growing up in Frayser helped Lil Wyte transcend any racial barriers, as he proved himself in the world of Three 6 Mafia enough to release his debut on the Hypnotize Minds label, with hits like “Oxy Cotton” and “My Smokin’ Song.”
White $osa Zyn Stage, 3:25 p.m. Kicking off the Zyn Stage string of Memphis rappers, White $osa is unique in that his name inspired his rapping, rather than vice versa. Originally gaining fame through an Instagram account that’s now up to 129,000 followers, it turned out he had a flair for flowing rhymes as well. Since turning to music, his collaboration with NLE Choppa has garnered 21 million streams on Spotify.
Blvck Hippie Bud Light Stage, 2 p.m. As Jesse Davis wrote in the Memphis Flyer, this group’s 2019 track “Hotel Lobby” is “one of the catchiest Memphis-made songs in recent memory.” With indie-pop songs marked by “excellent arrangements” and group founder Josh Shaw’s “open and honest lyrics,” and fresh off a series of concerts at South by Southwest, Treefort Music Fest, and Audiotree promoting their new LP, If You Feel Alone at Parties, Blvck Hippie is one gem to keep an eye on at this year’s festival.
Tora Tora Terminix Stage, 2:15 p.m. If you thought that Memphis was all about blues, soul, and hip-hop, think again. These metal masters have been honing a distinctly Mid-South variant of their chosen genre since the ’80s, when a trio of hits like “Walkin’ Shoes,” “Guilty,” and “Dancing with a Gypsy” (the latter featured in the film Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure) powered a career that includes 2019’s Bastards of Beale.
Don Bryant & the Bo-Keys Coca-Cola Blues Tent, 9:25 p.m. Don Bryant has lost none of the power of his voice since he began performing over half a century ago. Indeed, his delivery has matured as if aged in an oak barrel, and now that he has ace neo-soul group the Bo-Keys backing him up, we dubbed his latest LP, YouMake Me Feel, an “instant classic” of pure, down-home soul.
Ghost Town Blues Band Coca-Cola Blues Tent, 7:55 p.m. This group is proof positive that the blues still offers plenty of room for innovation. Not your typical bar combo, Ghost Town Blues Band blends traditional blues with Stax-era soul and even includes novel instruments like cigar box guitars and electric push brooms in their arrangements. Expect the unexpected.
Barbara Blue Coca-Cola Blues Tent, 2:10 p.m. Blue is a queen of Beale Street, a regular performer at Silky O’Sullivan’s who has worked with some serious contenders in the past (including three albums with Taj Mahal’s Phantom Blues Band in the 1990s). Her latest album even features the legendary Bernard “Pretty” Purdie on drums. World-class blues, soul, and jazz live on with Barbara Blue.
Moneybagg Yo
SUNDAY
Moneybagg Yo Bud Light Stage, 7:40 p.m. It was only five years ago that Zandria Robinson reported on Moneybagg Yo’s album release party for his debut, Federal 3X, and now he’s a leading star in the trap music universe. His 2020 album, A Gangsta’s Pain, debuted at No. 1 on the charts. Yet he continues to appreciate his hometown, gifting Covid-related supplies to local schools after that album conquered the charts.
Jucee Froot Bud Light Stage, 2:10 p.m. If Memphis hip-hop is dominated by male stars, Jucee Froot is bucking that trend with her meteoric climb to fame. Since 2020, when she released her debut Black Sheep on Atlantic, she’s had tracks featured in soundtracks for the film Birds of Prey and the series P-Valley and Insecure.
Cory Branan
Cory Branan Zyn Stage, 2 p.m. Rolling Stone got it right when they dubbed this consummate singer/songwriter “a country boy with a punk-rock heart.” Since the late ’90s, when he found his voice in the Memphis indie scene, he’s been perfecting the combination of those elements in his music and lyrics. He’s also a phenomenal guitarist. Watch for a new album later this year.
Blind Mississippi Morris Coca-Cola Blues Tent, 3:25 p.m. Blind Mississippi Morris is Beale Street royalty, and no festival named for the famed blues district would be complete without his uniquely powerful harmonica playing and singing. The recipient of the Mississippi Music Foundation’s Lifetime Achievement Award and a two-time winner of the Premier Player Grammy Award for Harmonica Player of the Year, Morris combines the grit and grind of the blues like no other.
Melvia “Chick” Rodgers Coca-Cola Blues Tent, 3:25 p.m. A vocal powerhouse, Melvia “Chick” Rodgers-Williams grew up in the historic Black neighborhood of Orange Mound, singing in her father’s church. Being steeped in the passions of gospel music stuck with her, as she followed her musical star on USO tours and a successful career in Chicago. With BSMF, she’s bringing it all back home.
BSMF 2022: Liberty Park Logistics
The Beale Street Music Festival is such an institution in Memphis, and so closely associated with Tom Lee Park, that any change to the winning formula is hard to fathom. Yet fathom it we must, as the BSMF situates itself on new grounds this year so that work may continue apace on the riverfront space where it typically lives. And if Tom Lee Park, once given its remake, promises to be better than ever, the 2022 iteration of the festival will have a glory all its own, nestled in the shadow of the Liberty Bowl Memorial Stadium. To get a sense of what has changed and what has remained, Memphis Flyer asked BSMF’s Randy Blevins to give us the lay of the land.
Memphis Flyer:It must have caused quite a shake-up to relocate away from your usual home. How will the experience be different for festival-goers? Randy Blevins: We’re going to be at the fairgrounds at Liberty Park just for this year while Tom Lee Park is under construction. As far as the festival is concerned, the layout is a different shape. Where everything at Tom Lee Park is kind of lined up north to south, the fairgrounds at Liberty Park are in a big rectangle. It’s still a big site. Two of the main stages will have the Liberty Bowl in the background, and the other main stage will have East Parkway in the background. There’ll be two main entrances on the north and on the south. And in the middle is Tiger Lane.
It actually surprises people who may have only driven on Tiger Lane or to the Coliseum. Once you’re there, you realize that’s a really big space. The fairgrounds had the Mid-South Fair for such a long time, and there’s plenty of room for the experience. So it’ll include all the things you’re used to seeing, just placed a little differently. All three stages will be triangulated with plenty of space between them. From the fountain at Tiger Lane, you’ll be able to see one stage to the south and another to the north. So it’ll create a really electric atmosphere.
How will parking be handled this year? We’re trying the best we can to make things easy and nice for everybody. There is on-site parking, and that area is accustomed to holding big events. And there are all these other locations, like CBU and other places that turn their surface lots into parking. We’ve also arranged with MATA to have a free rapid shuttle coming from Downtown. Most of our fans are coming from 100, 200 miles away, spending on average two to three nights at a hotel in Memphis. And most of our hotels are Downtown. That’s why Tom Lee Park works so well. So this year we’ll have a rapid shuttle, which will pick up at two locations: B.B. King and Union, and on Second Street by the [Renasant] Convention Center. Ticket-holders will be able to hop on the rapid shuttle and get dropped off at two locations, then take the shuttle back Downtown to continue to hang out on Beale Street and enjoy all the nightlife down there. If you’ve ever been Downtown after the festival, it’s packed. So we want that to continue. And if people want to use that, it’s free, but they have to register online first. They just show their ticket and they can hop the shuttle and ride about every 10 minutes or so, depending on traffic.
We’re also coordinating to set up a couple hundred spaces at the University of Memphis, and you’ll be able to buy access to a parking spot next to the Holiday Inn there, and then ride a shuttle from the U of M to the site and back. That’s just for Memphians who might not want to go Downtown and don’t want to deal with congestion around Liberty Park. It might be a nice option if you’re coming in from Cordova or Germantown.
The festival’s been delayed for years because of the pandemic. What procedures are in place to address Covid? We have a disclaimer on everything and we have a plan ready to go if anything happens, as we did last year when we had a half festival with the barbecue cooking contest at limited capacity. Whatever comes down from the Shelby County Health Department, we’ll comply and do what needs to be done. The world’s used to this now.
Have artists made different requests as far as vaccinations and the like? There have been different requirements from artists, but that’s become less and less part of the conversation as the months and weeks have come along. Currently we’re not asking for proof of vaccination from the public. But currently, anything is possible. Some of the artists have different requirements for ground transportation that’s picking them up or in the backstage areas. They might request masks. The vendors and backstage crews will meet each specific artist’s requirements.
After the 2020 festival was canceled, did many ticket holders opt to just redeem their tickets when the festival resumed? We have a decent number of deferrals. We did not get a lot of refund requests. Many folks just decided, “Whenever you come back, we’re in.” It shows the staying power of the story. It’s a great deal of trust, if you’ve paid hundreds of dollars for tickets, in some cases, and you’re flying blind because you don’t know who we’re going to book. So we felt pretty good that 90 percent of the people weren’t just saying, “Give me my money back.” It could have happened. We were prepared for whatever.
Has it been difficult to gear up for this after such a long hiatus? Just a short time ago, we were at a skeleton staff of only five people and the future of everything was a giant question mark. A festival depends on bringing people together in big groups. We don’t receive money from the city or the state or anything to cover overhead. And we had a reserve saved up for a rainy day, but a rainy day is a bad year, not a year with literally nothing. Who would have ever predicted that, right? So it was really tough. To be in the situation we’re in now, back to doing a big, full-on festival, is really good. There were no guarantees just a short time ago, when everything was shut down and there were just five of us, basically, living month to month. We just started hiring people and getting back up to full staff this fall. And we’re glad to be back, and glad that we’re getting such a good reception to this.
Beale Street Music Festival Schedule 2022
Friday, April 29, 2022 Gates at 5 p.m.
Bud Light Stage Three 6 Mafia 10:35-11:50 p.m. DaBaby 9:15-10:05 p.m. Waka Flocka Flame 7:45-8:45 p.m. Al Kapone (Memphis) 6:15-7:15 p.m.
Zyn Stage Sarah McLachlan 10:15-11:45 p.m. Van Morrison 8:15-9:45 p.m. Kurt Vile & The Violators 6:35-7:40 p.m. Amy LaVere (Memphis) 5:45-6:20 p.m.
Terminix Stage Sammy Hagar & The Circle 10:30-midnight Dirty Honey 9-10 p.m. Glorious Sons 7:30-8:30 p.m. Black Pistol Fire 6-6:55 p.m.
Blues Tent JJ Grey & Mofro 10:45-12:15 p.m. Kenny Brown (Memphis) 9:05-10:15 p.m. Janiva Magness 7:30-8:35 p.m. Earl the Pearl (Memphis) 6-7 p.m.
Saturday, April 30, 2022 Gates at 1 p.m.
Bud Light Stage Death Cab for Cutie 9:35-11:05 p.m. Spoon 7:55-9:05 p.m. Grouplove 6:20-7:25 p.m. Toad the Wet Sprocket 4:45-5:50 p.m. Soccer Mommy 3:15-4:15 p.m. Blvck Hippie (Memphis) 2-2:50 p.m.
Zyn Stage Megan Thee Stallion 10:45-11:35 p.m. Sarkodie (Ghana) 9-10:15 p.m. NLE Choppa (Memphis) 7:30-8:30 p.m. Project Pat (Memphis) 6:15-7:05 p.m. Duke Deuce (Memphis) 4:50-5:45 p.m. Lil Wyte (Memphis) 3:25-4:25 p.m. White $osa (Memphis) 2:15-3 p.m.
Terminix Stage Smashing Pumpkins 10:15-11:45 p.m. Stone Temple Pilots 8:30-9:45 p.m. Chevelle 6:50-8 p.m. Rival Sons 5:15-6:20 p.m. Ayron Jones 3:45-4:45 p.m. Tora Tora (Memphis) 2:15-3:15 p.m.
Blues Tent Robert Randolph & the Family Band 11-12:15 p.m. Don Bryant & the Bo-Keys (Memphis) 9:25-10:30 p.m. Ghost Town Blues Band (Memphis) 7:55-9 p.m. Hurricane Ruth 6:25-7:30 p.m. Mitch Woods & His Rocket 88’s 5-6 p.m. Brandon Santini 3:35-4:35 p.m. Barbara Blue (Memphis) 2:10-3:10 p.m.
Sunday, May 1, 2022 Gates at 1 p.m.
Bud Light Stage Lil Wayne 9-9:50 p.m. MoneyBagg Yo (Memphis) 7:40-8:30 p.m. Shaggy 6:10-7:10 p.m. Stonebwoy (Ghana) 4:45-5:45 p.m. Third World 3:20-4:20 p.m. Jucee Froot (Memphis) 2:10-2:50 p.m.
Since this is the season to indulge, Memphis notables (and one former Memphian) were asked, “What is an essential something you must eat or drink at this time of year or it won’t feel like the holidays?”
Unapologetic founder James “IMAKEMADBEATS” Dukes: “Probably my dad’s peach cobbler. His peach cobbler is pretty famous. It’s the attention to detail in the crust. He’ll add pineapple to it [the filling]. He just has a very unique approach to peach cobbler. During the holidays, people will legit ask it to be sent to other cities. If people are swinging through town and happen to be there, they will request it.”
Paula & Raiford’s Disco owner Paula Raiford: “I have to have the homemade pound cake. My best friend’s [Tiffany Conrad] cousin (Angela Gaines makes it). It is dee-lish. One, it is homemade. She doesn’t bake as much as she used to. She always does it for Thanksgiving and Christmas. You know you’re going to get it and it makes it taste better because you know you’re going to get it for Christmas. You don’t get it year round.”
Grammy-winning engineer/producer Matt Ross-Spang: “I eat it all year round, but the first thing that comes to mind is gravy. I just love it so much. You put it on everything: the turkey, the dressing, the ham, the rolls, the green beans.”
Memphis Whistle executive chef Kyle Gairhan: “Latkes and stuffing. I’m Jewish. Those are the two things I think of during the holidays. Stuffing starts around Thanksgiving. And latkes for Hanukkah. [Made from] sourdough, onions, celery, butter.”
Former city Mayor AC Wharton: “Eggnog. [With] Southern Comfort. In my hometown, there was no alcohol, so my mother made boiled custard. But there was a bootlegger who lived next door to us. And the only time Daddy spiked his boiled custard was at Christmas. He slipped across the fence to the neighbor to get a little nip in his boiled custard, which made it eggnog. The difference between boiled custard is just that. No spices and certainly no alcohol. But you could get a dispensation on Christmas to put a half teaspoon of bootleg stuff in it. And that made it eggnog. But only my daddy could do that. Now that I’m grown, I can have eggnog. When I was a kid, it was boiled custard.”
Performer Al Kapone: “My mom’s baked spaghetti. My mom’s baked spaghetti is just amazing. It’s always festive. Number one, she bakes it. Number two, she puts these cheddar cheese chunks in it. I don’t know what all the other ingredients she puts in, but the distinctive sharp cheddar cheese chunks, when you go in and get you a helping of spaghetti, you get those nice, melted sharp cheddar cheese chunks in every bite. It lights you up like a Christmas tree. That’s how good it is. My mom’s spaghetti is a staple for any holiday. When she cooks that, I’m excited. I’m in a festive mood.”
Dave’s Bagels owner/founder Dave Scott: “No-bake cookies. One hundred percent. My wife [makes them]. It started with my mother. My mother’s been making them for years, my whole life. You’ve probably had them before. They’re chocolate peanut butter oatmeal cookies. Blend it all together in a little pot. Drop off little drops of that while it’s hot on the wax paper and it cools into a cookie. Whenever I see those around I know the holidays are close.”
Wrestler Jerry Lawler: “It’s just been a long-time tradition of mine. When I tell people this, they say, ‘Oh, my gosh. Are you kidding me?’ It’s the old tried-and-true Claxton fruitcake. I have to have the Claxton. This year, back before Thanksgiving, they had them at Sam’s Club. Big packs of three of them. I’ve gone through one. I’ve got two brand-new ones to finish off before Christmas. I think the thing about the Claxton is there really is no ‘cake.’ It’s just all fruit. I don’t know what they’ve done to the fruit to make it almost like a solid piece of custard. Very little cake. Just all sugary fruit. People hate fruitcake. I don’t know what the deal is. Johnny Carson used to tell this joke on his show: There’s only one fruitcake in the world and it gets re-gifted every year to different people. It never gets eaten. It just gets regifted.”
Wrestler Jimmy Hart, professional wrestler/former Memphian now living in Tampa, Florida: “I don’t drink, but just eggnog. I think it’s according to where you live. Hot chocolate if you’re up north. I think eggnog. You only see it during Christmas time, don’t you? If it’s Christmas time, it’s eggnog with or without liquor.”
Note: On New Year’s Eve, Hart and Lawler will reunite to sing — yes, sing, not wrestle — at King Jerry Lawler’s Hall of Fame Bar & Grille on Beale Street. “We’re going to do about an hour-long set,” Lawler says. “We’re going to sing in the New Year.”
Chef/owner of Alcenia’s restaurant, B. J. Chester-Tamayo: “Christmas, Thanksgiving, or Easter, you must have chicken and dressing. In the Chester household no ifs, ands, or buts. As long as I have lived, I’ve had chicken and dressing. Except maybe once when she was in the hospital, I had my mom’s. Out of 67 years of my life, if it wasn’t her chicken and dressing she made, it was her recipe.”
How was the chicken and dressing she bought? “It was absolutely terrible.”
Grammy-winning record producer Lawrence “Boo” Mitchell: “I smoke a turkey every year and I have been for 10 years or probably longer. Turkey. It just has to happen.”
And what does Mitchell like on his turkey? “Oh, bourbon. Four Roses bourbon, please.”
Rendezvous restaurant owner John Vergos: “Except for this year since my mother isn’t doing it, we have to have spanakopita. Spinach pie. I think that she’s recognized among the Greeks in Memphis as making the best spanakopita. She doesn’t write it [the recipe] down. You have to watch her. She’s fine. We’re just doing it at my sister’s and we’re just not going to have it this year. We had it Thanksgiving and we’re not having it Christmas.”
So, how does Vergos feel about that? “It’s just not Christmas.”
