bb-kings – Memphis Flyer

It’s a little past 9 p.m. on Beale Street when Gracie Curran starts another set with the High Falutin’ Band. The restaurant side of the Rum Boogie Cafe is half full, a pretty good crowd for a Monday in January. It’s “slow season” on the world famous Beale Street — weeks before the International Blues Challenge brings thousands of tourists from around the globe to the two-block zone, and months before the warm weather brings the big crowds — but Curran works the room as if it’s the last concert of her life. Since forming the band in 2010, she says she’s approached every show this way. She says anyone who’s ever performed on a stage knows that a Monday night is what you make it.

“There’s a different energy on Monday nights than on the weekends,” Curran explains. “It’s nice to play to people who came here to see Memphis music, no matter what day it is. It’s a big responsibility.”

Curran considers herself a cheerleader or a “chaperone of a good time” when she’s on stage. She never plays with a set list and often asks the crowd what they want to hear. Like any good entertainer, she realizes it’s her responsibility to provide her audience with a temporary refuge from the outside world.

“I remember having an office job and working 70 hours a week, so I don’t take for granted getting to tour the country and put everyone in a good mood. Lately there’s been a lot of talk about the political climate, but I want to take you away from all of that,” Curran says.

“That’s what the blues is for. We all go through stuff — everyone has a struggle — but I want to take you away from that. I love it, and I appreciate it so much. We get to come home from tour and play Beale Street; that’s the best thing in the world to me.”

With a voice like Curran’s, luck has little to do it with it. But that sense of gratitude is something that can be found in just about every other performer on Beale, regardless of what kind of music they play.

Matt Isbell of Ghost Town Blues Band has no problem admitting that Beale Street shaped his musical career. He’s played the street more than 300 times. His band won second place at the 2014 International Blues Challenge and built an international fan base in the process.

“Playing on Beale during the week, you catch a lot of people doing the Southern United States vacation thing, or maybe there’s some convention or something, which means you have the chance to get national exposure in your own backyard. People from other cities will have already seen your band when you go there on tour. Other bands in other cities don’t have that resource. It’s kind of like a built-in fan base in your own backyard.

“If it weren’t for [our playing] Beale Street, we probably wouldn’t have gotten second place at the IBC. We wouldn’t have played B.B. King’s funeral, and we probably wouldn’t be a national touring band.”

Beale Street Booker

Carson Lamm has been booking on Beale Street for almost 20 years, and his history on the street goes back even further. Lamm oversees booking at the Rum Boogie Cafe, the Blues Hall, the Tap Room, and King’s Palace. If you’ve ever wandered into a bar post-Tigers or Grizzlies game, there’s a good chance you’ve seen a band he’s booked.

“I think the cool thing about Beale Street is that some of the guys who play weekdays with us are the same artists that have a national fan base and travel on the weekend,” Lamm said.

“They’re in town doing what they do on a smaller stage, but you still get that quality show. It’s kind of like playing without the safety net, so a lot of times artists will try new things. I booked the North Mississippi Allstars in 1998 at the Blues Hall on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, and they used the venue as a breeding ground for writing new songs and trying new things.”

“They’d have a new part of a song that they’re basically writing in front of an international audience. I remember Luther going, ‘Hey man, is it okay if my dad shows up to the gig?’ Then Jim Dickinson would show up, and he’d take it to a whole other level. People like Gracie and the Ghost Town Blues Band represent Memphis on a national stage, and Beale Street is their home base.”

King of the Blues Hall

While the days of the Dickinson brothers playing Monday nights on Beale are gone, there’s another band kicking up dust weekly at the Blues Hall. At first sight, the McDaniel Band might not seem like anything special. You won’t find them in fancy costumes or flexing flashy instruments. But sit in the Blues Hall and listen for five minutes, and you’ll quickly see why the band just might be the best-kept secret in Memphis.

Like many Memphis musicians, Chris McDaniel started singing in church when his age was still in the single digits. His mother was also a singer, and McDaniel said that he hasn’t looked back since the first time he heard the Jackson 5.

Don Perry

The McDaniel Band plays Tuesdays and Wednesdays at the Blues Hall.

“We’ve been down there [at the Blues Hall] for the past three years. I also [perform] a little bit at B.B. King’s when they need me, but I started out in Handy Park and things just moved on up. We kept getting better musicians in the band, and now we do everything from the Rolling Stones to the Allman Brothers to Howlin’ Wolf. We keep a crowded house because we do songs that everyone knows and likes.”

There’s something spiritual about this band. It’s like going to church — if the reverend was handing out Big Ass Beers. They connect. Those in the crowd seem quick to realize that the McDaniel Band takes each performance seriously. McDaniel often addresses members of the crowd and dedicates the song “Stand by Me” to American veterans every time he sings it.

“I had an uncle and two cousins die in Nam,” McDaniel says. “I have another uncle who served 22 years in the Navy, and a lot of other folks in my family were military.

“You look out on the streets, and you see homeless veterans, so when I sing ‘Stand by Me,’ I want people to know how grateful we should be for their service. They allow us to do the things we’ve done. I’ve had so many guys from Vietnam come and shake my hand, and they have tears in their eyes, and it brings tears to my eyes, as well. People come up to me and say thank you because they don’t get that everywhere they go. Someone has to speak out and say something about it, and I’m just glad I’m in a place where I can meet people from all over the globe and share that.”

Don Perry

Cruisin’ Heavy plays Mondays and Tuesdays at Alfred’s on Beale Street.

Don Perry

Roxi Love plays at Tin Roof on Beale Street in downtown Memphis.

The Street Remembers

Logging long hours on Beale Street means spending time away from friends and family. Making a living playing music might seem ideal to many, but life in the spotlight night after night takes a toll, no matter how many people are applauding. Many Memphis musicians consider Beale Street their home away from home. And when someone in the Beale Street family goes home for the last time, the street holds a funeral procession.

“Basically, a tradition on Beale Street is that people who were either involved or played on the street will have their final procession down Beale. It really is an arm of what was the Memphis Music Commission,” Lamm says.

“When B.B. King passed away, we had to organize 20 horn players. We’ve done big ones like those, and we’ve done small processions with six horn players.

“It’s really an organic and cathartic process, because a lot of the people who show up knew the musicians. It’s their final stroll down Beale Street; it’s paying the ultimate respect to someone to play in their procession.

“I had to start a Facebook page for when B.B. King died, because so many people wanted to be a part of it. It’s a process that musicians and the families appreciate. We don’t advertise it. It just happens.”

McDaniel was close to legendary Beale Street singer James Govan, who was honored with a Beale Street funeral procession after his death in 2014.

“I loved James Govan,” McDaniel says. “There was no voice like his on Beale Street. I’d walk away from my set sometimes to catch him sing. I still think about him and talk about him all the time. If I do ‘These Arms of Mine’ by Otis Redding, I always mention his name.”

The gratitude shown on Beale is a two-way street. When you ask a musician about performing in one of the many world-famous clubs on the downtown stretch, the words “thankful” and “lucky” are used without hesitation.

While there are certain events — Beale Street Music Fest, the International Blues Challenge, and bike nights — that serve as high-profile functions and draw in the crowds, any night’s a great night to catch a band on Beale, even Monday. Or maybe, especially Monday.

H. Michael Miley

Beale Street

You can put my name on the list of locals who have casually maligned Beale Street. But I’m here to eat words. Here goes: I love Beale Street.

The stereotype is familiar: Either rock blues played by heavy-set white guys in bowling shirts or throngs of black kids who don’t care to hear any blues. It’s true that there are sub-ideal bands and some nights when not everybody belongs. But this dismissive view of Beale is cheap shorthand and a sad way to miss out on an important part of Memphis’ economy, culture, and good times.

I recently went to Beale four times in 10 days and had a blast every time. Milling through the crowds at B.B. King’s Blues Club on a Friday at lunchtime, you hear accents from all over the world. It’s true that the British, Japanese, and continentals were not hearing Sleepy John Estes or Mr. King in his prime. People get hung up on “authenticity” and miss things like the Stax Academy Alumni Band’s residency at B.B. King’s. I went back to B.B.’s and heard Preston Shannon play his regular Wednesday night gig.

Shannon reminded me of the whole spectrum of a blues performance. I had been guilty of using the cheap shorthand, of using a bad example (Stevie Ray Vaugnabees) to define contemporary blues. Shannon is a moving guitarist and vocalist who’s been active since the 1970s and on Beale for almost a quarter century. He works within a tradition of showmanship that makes each note meaningful: a mix of human spiritualism and worldly desire. At his best, he works himself and the audience into something like a funky, social, religious experience. People come from Japan. Why don’t we come from Collierville or Central Gardens?

I walked down Beale several times over those days and saw throngs of people having good times. I heard music I liked: C-3 Blues Band at Rum Boogie and the McDaniel Band at the Blues Hall.

But there is one thing we should fix: The bars are in an outdoor volume war. Loudspeakers are set up, one after the other, down the street, each playing its own music. There was a moment when I saw a man who had clearly traveled here to listen to music. He was aghast at the cacophony of competing sound systems. You couldn’t hear anything. He was furious. So was I. The music that draws people to Beale did not have giant, solid-state amplifiers. Huge amplifiers are used as weapons by the military and are the worst thing about live music.

Beale, like Overton Square, is on the good foot. Beale Street Landing, the new Orpheum development, the new Hard Rock Café, and the Memphis Music Hall of Fame herald an even better experience for Memphis’ beloved musical pilgrims. We should not treat them like Central American dictators and blast them with unhealthy levels of noise. Put musicians out front, singing and playing unamplified instruments.

The city or merchants association should enforce the noise ordinance’s prohibition against loudspeakers for promotion. We should also amend the current ordinance to allow for drums, singing, and acoustic instruments in the entertainment districts like Beale, Broad Avenue, and Overton Square.

One solution was heard at A. Schwab for the Beale Street Caravan fund raiser, where the Bluff City Backsliders played a mostly unplugged set behind Jason Freeman’s powerful voice. The sound perfectly filled the room. You could hear it if you wanted to listen to every note, but you could also think or say hello to someone. Sleepy John never had a 300-watt amp.

Last weekend, I was in Nashville on Broadway. When you pass a bar like Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge or Robert’s Western World, the band is in the window, and you can hear what they are doing inside. It makes you want to go in, or it allows you to go hear something else. But you are not subjected to noise pollution the whole time you’re on the street.

Beale’s energy is so much more fun than Broadway. Beale is rowdy and wrong in just the right way. You can go to Nashville and walk your granny down the street for a cotton candy. That’s sorta fun, but Beale is the place for cutting loose and showing off your soul. Even standing in the deafening and absurd contrast of what is and what it was, I love Beale Street. We should all go more often.