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Cover Feature News

Rockin’ the Halls

“I have gladly given my life to Memphis music, and it has given me back a hundred-fold. It has been my fortune to know truly great men and hear the music of the spheres. May we all meet again at the end of the trail.” — Excerpted from the last words of Jim Dickinson.

Justin Fox Burks

The ceiling of the hallway leading to the museum’s second-floor space is lined with guitars that point the way to the exhibits.

Jim Dickinson liked to “watch shit rot.” Those are Dickinson’s own colorful words, of course. The storied producer, musician, Memphis Music Hall of Fame inductee, and provocateur, always placed “decomposition” at the heart of his personal aesthetic. He believed you could hear the sounds of decay in the songs he recorded with Alex Chilton and Big Star. You could see it represented visually in the paintings he labored over, then left outdoors for nature to complete.

Until very recently, visitors to Dickinson’s Zebra Ranch recording studio, were encouraged to touch a broken-down piano decomposing in the yard. In its former life, the crumbling instrument, propped up on cinder blocks like some old jalopy and covered in filth and leaves, had belonged to the Stax recording studio. It was in the building when Isaac Hayes and David Porter were songwriting partners cranking out hits like “Soul Man,” and “Wrap it Up.” It was there when Booker T. and the MG’s was the Stax house band, and when Otis Redding wrote “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay.”

Dickinson’s widow, Mary Lindsay Dickinson, says some people understood her husband’s fondness for decay. It also made a lot of people angry to see a beautiful piece of music history left out in the weather to fall apart.

Justin Fox Burks

Jim Dickinson’s piano detail.

Justin Fox Burks

Jim Dickinson’s piano

John Doyle, executive director of the Memphis Rock ‘n’ Soul Museum, describes what’s left of the old Stax piano as, “a piece of Jim Dickinson’s soul.” He says it’s a perfect example of the kinds of things a visitor can expect to find on display at the Memphis Memphis Music Hall of Fame museum, which opens for business this week at the corner of Second and Beale, in a cozy two-story space nestled between the newly relocated Hard Rock Cafe and Lansky Bros. Clothier to the King. The exhibits are primarily on the second floor, where the Lansky brothers once stored their formal wear. It’s the place where Johnny Cash was taken after he came to Bernard Lansky brandishing a Prince Albert tobacco tin, wanting to buy a black frock coat just like the prince’s. “That may be the beginning of the ‘Man in Black,”‘ Doyle speculates.
Justin Fox Burks

John Doyle, Executive director of the Memphis Music Hall of Fame, shows off a few of the museum’s treasures including Jerry Lee Lewis’ Cadillac, Johnny Cash’s black suit, and an original Elvis jumpsuit.

Although the two museums share administrative staff, the Memphis Music Hall of Fame isn’t Memphis Rock ‘n’ Soul Museum Jr. The latter Smithsonian-affiliated museum, located in the FedExForum, has been telling the story of Memphis music for the past 15 years. The Memphis Music Hall of Fame has only been inducting members since 2012. Its new brick-and-mortar facility will give visitors a chance to spend some digitally interactive quality time with the legendary heroes of Memphis music.
Justin Fox Burks

A customized emblem on Jerry Lee Lewis’ Cadillac.

“I asked myself, if I had the opportunity to hang out with the musicians we’re inducting each year, what would that cocktail party be like?” Doyle says, explaining his vision for the Hall of Fame exhibit. “I’m pretty sure it would not look like the Smithsonian. It would probably be weird. So we’re positioning the Memphis Music Hall of Fame as a museum where our exhibits are as outrageous as our inductees.”
Justin Fox Burks

John Doyle, executive director of the Memphis Music Hall of Fame, discusses the layout of a large case with Pam Parham, director of operations.

That explains decorative touches like a ceiling hung with St. Blues guitars and the full-sized piano suspended upside down and transformed into an enormous light fixture. That’s also the philosophy behind both Dickinson’s decomposing keyboard, and a lifelike python built to accompany Larry Dodson’s costumes in the eye-popping Bar-Kays exhibit.
Justin Fox Burks

John Doyle, executive director of the Memphis Music Hall of Fame, stands art the top of the stairs where a glowing piano stands in for a traditional light fixture.

“In Europe, they’re protecting Rembrandts,” Doyle says. “In Memphis, we’re protecting a pink shorts set with a cape that Rufus Thomas wore at WattStax. It is the funkiest-looking thing ever. But in Memphis it becomes an art museum treasure.”

Additional treasures collected in the Hall of Fame include an acoustic guitar that belonged to Memphis street sweeper and blues legend Furry Lewis. The well-documented guitar is on loan from a North Dakota collector, as is the original guitar case on which Lewis painted his name.

The seeds that grew into the Memphis Music Hall of Fame were planted in 2007, when Doyle asked his Rock ‘n’ Soul board to brainstorm new ways for the museum to enhance its mission to tell the Memphis music story and grow beyond the walls of the FedExForum. It was Memphis Convention & Visitors Bureau President Kevin Kane who first suggested the idea of opening a hall of fame. The concept was an immediate hit, although nobody seemed to know for sure what form such an entity might take. “It could be a chicken dinner we have every year, with special performances and trophies,” Doyle says. “It might be a public art installation somewhere downtown. Or a comprehensive website with music and pictures.” Doyle thought a new off-site exhibit would be cost-prohibitive. Then, about a week after the hall’s first induction ceremony, Memphis Mayor A C Wharton approached the Rock ‘n’ Soul director with news that Beale Street’s Hard Rock Cafe was moving from its original location on the eastern stretch of Beale, into the old Lansky’s building. The club, Wharton said, was looking to partner with a museum.

“As the executive director, my heart sank,” Doyle jokes. “I could tell this was going to mean a lot of work.” With nearly six million visitors annually, Beale Street is Tennessee’s largest tourist destination, and although it’s home to the W.C. Handy House and Museum, there’s no visitor center where people can find out about the Memphis Zoo or the Stax Museum of American Soul Music or the newly opened Blues Hall of Fame on South Main or anything else.

“We felt like we could assist in doing all that by having a presence here,” Doyle says. Between the licensing appropriate music and photos and the hiring of top-notch music writers and designers, the Memphis Music Hall of Fame’s website was costing the Rock ‘n’ Soul museum $90,000 a year. “That’s a good-size burden for a not-for-profit museum,” Doyle says. “Fortunately, because of our relationship with the Memphis Grizzlies and because of our location at the FedExForum, we’ve been able to sustain that and grow our mission outside the walls they provide for us.”

Even in a tourist-rich zone like Beale Street, that kind of “assist” might not sound like a big deal. But Memphis music tourism is already on the rise and Elvis Presley’s Graceland Public Relations Director Kevin Kern thinks the new Hall of Fame will only help to promote that upward trend. “[It] will add to our story, while expanding the list of options for the traveler to keep them in town,” Kern says. Memphis, he adds, has finally grown into something “more than a long weekend destination.”

More than 600,000 tour Graceland annually, making it Memphis’ second largest music-related destination after Beale Street, and the second-most-visited residence in America after the White House. More than 150,000 people visit Sun Studio annually, and another 60,000 tour the Rock ‘n’ Soul museum and the Stax Museum of American Soul Music.  

Tim Sampson, communications director for the Soulsville Foundation, agrees with Kern. “Our attendance at Stax is way up,” he says. “We’ve got people here in the museum from every continent every single day.”

Sampson welcomes the new Memphis Music Hall of Fame, just as he welcomed the Blues Hall of Fame, which opened in May. He credits the recent boom in music tourism to the fact that music-related destinations are more collaborative than competitive. He also believes that additions to the landscape such as music-related murals and an increasing number of historical markers and museums also help the Memphis tourism industry.

Memphis Rock ‘n’ Soul hit 60,000 tourists annually in 2013, and had its best month ever in April. Each subsequent month has broken previous records. Doyle thinks this is strong evidence that the stage is perfectly set for a facility like the Memphis Music Hall of Fame.

“There is no other city in America that can host its own music Hall of Fame,” Doyle boasts. “Some states can. Alabama has one. Texas has one. But Memphis is the epicenter of American music.

“When we first sat down and started coming up with the names of potential inductees it was so easy,” Doyle says. “There was Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley, Otis Redding, Rufus Thomas, Al Green, Isaac Hayes, The Staple Singers, and on and on. In that first evening, we listed 300 well-known performers from different musical traditions — jazz, blues, rural field-holler-type music, jug bands, rock ‘n’ roll, rockabilly, gospel, R&B, rap, hip-hop. In a very short time, our list of potential inductees became enormous.”

On the morning before his latest documentary, Best of Enemies, was scheduled to screen in Los Angeles, author and Memphis music historian Robert Gordon offered some perspective regarding the potential of a Memphis Music Hall of Fame compared to other music towns.

“Lots of cities can say they’re home to a star,” he said. “Buddy Holly’s from Lubbock, Texas, for example. And so is Waylon Jennings.  So they can make a little Buddy Holly shrine in Lubbock. But Memphis? What decade do you want to talk about? What musical genre?

“People ask how can it be possible that Carl Perkins wasn’t selected until the third year of the Memphis Hall of Fame?” says Gordon. “He’s the first guy to have a number-one record on the pop, country, and R&B charts at the same time,” Gordon says. “And that frustrates some people. It’s something we should celebrate. Our music history has been so rich that we can not induct Carl Perkins until the third year, because each year we’ve wanted to recognize our musical diversity.

“What I want to know is, when will Booker Little get into the Hall of Fame?” Gordon asks, rhetorically. Even though Little died young and his name isn’t a household word, his contributions were significant. It may be next year or 10 years from now, but the Manassas graduate and hard-bop trumpet innovator who performed alongside John Coltrane will eventually be enshrined alongside the better known heroes of Sun, Hi, and Stax.

The answer doesn’t matter, Gordon finally concludes, because the Hall of Fame isn’t a popularity contest.

In a telephone interview, Mary Lindsay Dickinson remembered the day the big truck with “Amro” painted on the side pulled up to the family’s Zebra Ranch recording studio in Coldwater, Mississippi. It had come to take her late husband’s special piano to its final resting place in the Memphis Music Hall of Fame. “There are no better piano movers in the world, I don’t think,” she said. But in spite of their expert handling, the wooden portions of the once-fine instrument fell into shreds as the movers lifted it from its resting place. “It had rotted completely,” Dickinson said, unable to conceal her delight that her late husband Jim had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Spooner Oldham, the great keyboard player, known for his work with Bob Dylan and Aretha Franklin, described Dickinson’s piano as the perfect metaphor for both mortality and immortality. He told Mary Lindsay that even when the wooden bits on the outside had returned to ashes and dust, “there will still be a harp inside.”

“And a harp is what was left,” Dickinson said, reiterating Doyle’s desire to collect edgy artifacts. “The harp was left. And when it finally goes up in the hall of fame it will be the oddest, ugliest, and most unique exhibit in any museum anywhere in the world.”

The Memphis Music Hall of Fame opens to the public on July 27th at 126 Second. Hours of operation will be 10 a.m.-7 p.m. 205-2532 memphismusichalloffame.com/

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Sing All Kinds We Recommend

Stevie Wonder at the Cannon Center Saturday

“We have to be proud and start acting on that pride,” songwriter and performer David Porter says of Memphis and its soul music. “This music, and the brand value that soul music has for this city should be embraced and acted upon. I’m happy to see that many in this community are doing just that. That’s what I’m doing here.”

Porter, a fundamental Stax luminary whose songwriting with Isaac Hayes created the Memphis sound, founded Consortium MMT, a developmental effort to foster Memphis soul talent locally and to create connections with industry operators and performers at the national level. Porter partnered with the Memphis Chamber of Commerce and other sponsors to create the Consortium as a bridge between Memphis and big-time talent. There have been similar efforts. Where those lacked credibility, this effort is on another level. Witness the Consortium’s inaugural Epitome of Soul award ceremony honoring Stevie Wonder at the Cannon Center on Saturday, October 11th. Wonder will perform, along with Chaka Khan, Jordan Sparks, Sharon Jones, and others. The band will be led by Rickey Minor, bandleader for the Tonight Show and American Idol.

People may associate Wonder with Detroit and L.A. But he is an example of how Memphis soul reaches beyond the borders of Shelby County.

“Stevie loves what was being done at Stax Records,” Porter says. “About six years ago, when Stevie was in Memphis, he wanted to do a tour of the museum. Everybody knows who Stevie Wonder is. So the museum was closed down for a minute, and Isaac Hayes and I personally took Stevie Wonder through a tour of that museum. We explained to him everything that he was not able to see in such a way that it was an emotional experience for all of us.”

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Wonder will be the first recipient of the Epitome of Soul Award, an annual award to honor those who shaped soul music.

“The Epitome of Soul will be an award that we will present every year to someone of high credibility,” Porter says. “There is no greater example to launch this than Stevie Wonder. The fact that Stevie Wonder is the first recipient of this award sets the bar quite high. It also sets the bar for credibility of soul associated with Memphis. The award is the Epitome of Soul. Why not take it to Soulsville U.S.A.? Hi Records, Stax Records, American Studios, and all the great music that has out of this city, why not take it here?”

Memphis music once employed thousands of Memphians, and not just musicians, but recording, warehousing, pressing, and promotion folks as well. Industry consolidation and the Internet did a number on the music business. But Memphis’ identity is inextricably linked to music and influenced many musicians. Even Stevie Wonder.

Stevie Wonder at the Cannon Center Saturday

“We talk about what [ideas] we get from each other,” Porter says of Wonder. “He said, ‘Listen to ‘We Can Work It Out’ [from 1970s Signed Sealed & Delivered]. The bass pattern and the pattern of that was motivated from what I was listening to you guys do on Sam & Dave.’ He has a tremendous love for people. Anyone who knows Stevie knows that. Additionally, he loved the concept that I was putting together here in Memphis. So much so that he agreed to come here to support this. In order to appreciate that, you have to understand that Stevie Wonder does not work in 1800-seat venues. That’s not what he does.”

Well, he’s doing that for the Consortium MMT. And a Motowner isn’t the only counter-intuitive force behind Porter’s effort. The infamously private Southeastern Asset Management signed on as title sponsor of the Epitome of Soul Award. The Memphis Chamber of Commerce allocated office space in its building at 22 North Front to host the Consortium’s production and artist development tools. Those tools include audio-production equipment and another essential element: mentoring from those who have succeeded in the past. We are losing those eminences all too quickly, and the Consortium is working to preserve their insights and legacies with video interviews.

“Valerie Simpson, writer of ‘I’m Every Woman,’  and ‘Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing.’ She’s just one person who deals with the songwriting. Jimmy Jam, producer of Janet Jackson, Celine Dion, Mariah Carey … The list goes on and on. Recording artists: Earth, Wind & Fire, Phillip Bailey, Verdine White, Ralph Johnson, and Eric Benét. Bobby Womack. These are individuals we have on film. Even when Bobby was not well, he wanted to do this, and he filmed this. He gave some of his thoughts and ideas that we can use for as long as this program exists. So that is an example. We have 130-plus video vignettes of artists talking about the creative processes in songwriting, recording, and record production.”

Porter is aware of the earlier efforts to accomplish this and says he’d be on the golf course if he wasn’t convinced it would work.

“The thing that needs to be expressed is that there are a lot of wonderful people who want to support the arts. And I’m talking about private citizens, just people. They want there to be meaningful outcomes when they do support it. What I wanted to see happen was not just to come up with an organization that would encourage young folks and all of that, but also to come up with some deliverables at the end for all of their hard work. A component of what we are doing is putting together a pool of credible talents in songwriting, record producing, and recording and having that focused. So when we go talk to industry assets that are serious about looking for talent, we have at least one place that they can go to and hear and see a pool of vetted talent by credible industry professionals. That way, there is credibility in Memphis that they can easily see.”

Porter had a pivotal role in shaping Memphis’ musical legacy. But he is focused on the role he can play in shaping the future.

“You can’t keep living in the past,” he says. “You’ve got to deal with the future. My answer to that is that, one day, the future will be the past. If you are wise, you will take advantage of all that was in the past to set an even more solid foundation for your future. Having the energies that caused success to happen in years past, integrating that with young people who have ambitions was something that could be done. I felt that I could be one of the facilitators for that.” 

Stevie Wonder at the Cannon Center Saturday (2)

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Film Features Film/TV

Film: Take Me To The River

It is said that all art aspires toward musicality, and no form comes closer than film. The linear flow of moving images naturally mirrors the aural motion of music. When the sound era dawned, the very first thing filmmakers did was turn their cameras on Al Jolsen and let the music do the talking.

Perhaps because of the two media’s similarities, many directors are also musicians. Such is the case with Martin Shore, a drummer from San Diego who toured with Cody Dickinson’s Hill Country Revue. Shore’s day job is as a film producer, and Take Me To The River, his directorial debut, is the latest music documentary to take on the question, “What makes Memphis music so special?” Guided by North Mississippi Allstars’ guitarist and son of legendary Memphis music producer Jim Dickinson, Shore gathers a who’s who of Memphis music legends together to make a record while the cameras roll.

The problem facing the directors of all music documentaries is how to balance the story and the music. It’s a simple problem of arithmetic: Unless you’re Martin Scorsese and HBO gives you three hours to tell George Harrison’s story, you have a limited amount of time to work with. Without the music, it’s hard to care about the story; but give the story short shrift and you lose the reason the audience is there in the first place. In Take Me To The River, Shore errs on the side of the music, and this is probably wise. The epic sweep of the Stax story has already been told in Robert Gordon’s Respect Yourself, so Shore constructs a series of vignettes from footage of the recording sessions interspersed with interviews with the musicians.

This approach makes for some magical moments. Al Kapone chats with Booker T. Jones as the legendary keyboardist drives his van around town. The Hi Records backup singers the Rhodes Sisters recall how Willie Mitchell used to exclaim “God the glory!” when they hit a note he liked. Frayser Boy, who wrote the Academy Award-winning flow for “It’s Hard Out Here For A Pimp” admits to Skip Pitts, who played guitar on Isaac Hayes Academy Award-winning “Theme From Shaft,” that he has never recorded with a live band before. Pitts refuses to even look at a chart before launching into the Rufus Thomas song “Push And Pull.” The magnetic and eternally young Mavis Staples changes the song at the last minute, and then soothes her collaborators’ nerves with a few well-placed smiles and a stunning vocal performance. William Bell tells the story of David Porter writing “Hold On I’m Comin” while an amused Porter looks on. Narrator and Hustle and Flow star Terrence Howard becomes completely overwhelmed by emotion after recording with the Hodges brothers, including a frail looking Teenie. Bobby Blue Bland teaches Lil P-Nut to sing “I Got A Woman.” And finally, Jerry Harrison of the Talking Heads produces a session with Snoop Dogg and the Stax Academy Band pulling together more than a dozen musicians to cut “I Forgot To Be Your Lover” in less than 30 minutes.

It’s fun to be a fly on the wall in these recording sessions held in historic spaces, and the camaraderie and respect between the players is evident. The talent, discipline, and instincts on display are amazing, because, as the indomitable Deanne Parker says, these musicians came of age in a time when “we didn’t have any technology to make you sound better.”

Take Me To The River never answers the question of why this city produces so much great music. But then again, no one else has ever been able to put a finger on what Charlie Musselwhite calls “that secret Memphis ingredient you can’t write in a book.”

Take Me To The River
Playing Friday, September 12th
The Paradiso

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Cover Feature News

Party like it’s 1989

The year 1989 saw incredible change. Revolution swept the Eastern bloc nations culminating in the fall of the Berlin Wall, collapse of the Soviet Union, and end of the Cold War. In China, protests in Tiananmen Square ended in tragedy. On the technology front, personal computers were getting smaller and smarter, and the first internet service providers launched in Australia, setting the stage for the modern internet.

In the Bluff City things were changing, too. “The Big Dig” was the city’s defining public spectacle, in which a giant illuminated shovel was dropped from a helicopter, piercing the earth on the north side of downtown, where “The Great American Pyramid” would soon be erected, charged with all the occult power of Isaac Tigrett’s crystal skull, soon abandoned, and ultimately designated as the future site of the world’s pointiest sporting goods store. A massive  fireworks display was set to the music of Elvis Presley, Al Green, B.B. King, and Otis Redding, climaxing with David Porter’s 10-minute, synth-funk-meets-New-Age oddity, “Power of the Pyramid,” which you’ve never heard of — for a reason.

Meanwhile, on the south side of town (I’d say the other end of the trolley line, but there was no trolley line), MM Corporation, then the parent company of Memphis magazine, launched a cheeky urban tabloid called the Memphis Flyer, to considerably less fanfare.

What was Memphis like in 1989, as described in the pages of a young Memphis Flyer? It was a city filled with fear, corruption, pollution, urban blight, and plenty of school system controversies. It was also a city full of artists, entrepreneurs, oddballs, and all kinds of music. And best of all, according to advertisements featuring a rainbow-striped superhero, for only seven yankee dollars Memphis Cablevision would “fully cablize” your home, including your choice of “high tech home improvements” like HBO or the installation of cable converters for non-cable-ready TVs.

Hustle & Flow director Craig Brewer was 18 years old and living in California in 1989, but the foundation of Memphis’ modern film community was already being laid. A list of Memphians to watch, compiled for a pre-launch sample issue of the Flyer, encouraged readers to “thank Linn Sitler the next time you bump into Dennis Quaid at the Cupboard.” The actor was in town with Winona Ryder filming the Jerry Lee Lewis biopic, Great Balls of Fire. Sitler, who’d been tapped to head the Memphis Film and Tape (now Film and Television) Commission in 1987, had been instrumental in bringing Great Balls to town. She was also praised for her lesser-known work with a Japanese-produced independent film identified in the Flyer‘s preview issue as Tuesday Night in Memphis. It was a languid, lovingly-shot ghost story shot in Memphis’ empty and dilapidated South Main district. It was released to critical acclaim in the summer of ’89 under the new title, Mystery Train.  

The sample issue’s list of up-and-coming Memphians also included grammy-winning sax player Kirk Whalum who went on to become the President and CEO of the Soulsville Foundation in 2010, as well as Anfernee “Penny” Hardaway, a 6′ 6″ junior at Treadwell High School who was averaging 34.5 points a game.

Although the initial “who’s who” column may have missed a few of Memphis’ future notables, many could be found lurking elsewhere within the early Flyer‘s 20-odd pages, sometimes behind bylines. Robert Gordon, documentarian and author of It Came From Memphis, and Respect Yourself, the story of Stax Records, penned a misty cover-length goodbye to jazzman Phineas Newborn Jr. The paper’s first official issue also included a column by humorist Lydel Sims that was topped by a striking caricature of Memphis Mayor Dick Hackett depicted as a bespectacled,  Nixon-nosed Egyptian pharaoh. The artwork was created by Frayser-raised actor Chris Ellis, notable for appearing in films like My Cousin Vinnie, Apollo 13, and The Dark Knight Rises.

That was also the year Memphis City Councilman Rickey Peete went to jail for the first time, and the Flyer asked if it was really the councilman’s fault that “he was out of the room when all the other politicos were learning to play the game?”

Although its focus was Memphis, the Flyer also localized national issues and stories that would define the coming decades. The Christian Right and the hyper-conservative forces that would eventually become the Tea Party were in their ascendancy; ongoing national political dialogue was captured in a pull quote from Jackson Baker’s profile of Memphian Ed McAteer, who founded the Religious Roundtable, a conservative Christian group that did much to secure the Christian right’s influence on American politics. “Liberalism in a politician,” McAteer said, “must be the consequence of either ignorance or deceit.”

If Flyer readers weren’t surprised by 2008’s “too big to fail” economic meltdown, it may be because of reporters like the Flyer‘s Penni Crabtree, who penned this prescient line in 1989: “Banks aren’t going out of business because they give loans to low-income folks — it’s because they are doing speculative real estate deals with their buddies. … Now we as taxpayers will have to bail the bastards out to the tune of $100-billion.”

Future Flyer editor Dennis Freeland was primarily a sportswriter in 1989, but he was also concerned with urban decay. While other reporters focused on the new Pyramid and the proposed Peabody Place development, Freeland turned his attention to Sears Crosstown, a “monumental” building and neighborhood lynchpin that was listed for sale for a mere $10,000. A quarter-century later, Sears Crosstown is being redeveloped, as if in accordance with Freeland’s vision.

The Dixon Gallery & Gardens opened an eye-popping exhibit featuring the lithography of French innovator Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec in 1989, but the more interesting homegrown action was happening in the weedy, rusty ruins of South Main, where the Center for Contemporary Art (now defunct), and the original TheatreWorks, an experimental venue for performing artists (now in Overton Square), were establishing the area as a viable arts district. The trolley line wasn’t proposed until 1990, and the fate of the area’s “Lorraine Civil Rights Museum,” was still in question. But something was clearly happening in the crumbling, artist-friendly ruins around the corner from the Flyer‘s Tennessee Street offices.

The Flyer‘s first food writers raved about the smoked salmon pizza with dill and razorback caviar being served at Hemming’s in Saddle Creek Mall and saw a lot of potential in Harry’s on Teur, a tiny Midtown dive with big flavor. They were less impressed by the Russian-inspired finger food at the Handy-Stop Deli and the side dishes at the Western Steakhouse, which was decorated with murals by Memphis wrestler Jerry Lawler.

 In music, Tav Falco’s Panther Burns were still bringing the psychobilly punks out to the Antenna Club, the famed alt-rock bar that, at the dawn of the 1990’s, seemed to present as many Widespread Panic-like jam bands as it did hardcore acts. Falco’s outspoken drummer Ross Johnson underscored the city’s musical diversity by writing an early Flyer feature titled “Saturday Night in Frayser,” about the Lucy Opry, a long-running country and bluegrass venue.

What did Memphis sound like at the dawn of the “Alternative” era? The college rock influence of bands like REM and Echo & the Bunnymen were carried on locally by the ubiquitous 5 That Killed Elvis. Dave Shouse of The Grifters, Easley/McCain studio engineer Davis McCain, and NTJ/Afghan Whigs drummer Paul Buchignani were playing Midtown clubs in a transitional art-pop band called Think as Incas. Shangri-La, the record store/indie label that employed Goner Records founder Eric “Oblivian” Friedl, while releasing singles and CDs by local artists like The Grifters and Man With Gun Lives Here, was one year old.

The biggest Memphis Flyer story of 1989 had to have been Leonard Gill’s “Read ‘Em and Wipe,” a cover story that collected Memphis’ best bathroom stall graffiti, including this probing question from the men’s room of the P&H Cafe: “A generation stoned. Who will do the cooking?” I am happy to report that 25 years later, the author of this brilliant line was a newly-minted Rhodes College graduate named Chris Davis who, having majored in theater and media arts, was stoned, hungry, and wondering what on earth he might do with such a silly degree.

It would be eight more years before I’d get an official Flyer byline, reviewing the Broadway production Phantom of the Opera, prior to the tour’s first visit to the Orpheum in Memphis.

You’ve got to start somewhere, am I right?

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

The Rant

There’s a new exhibit at the Stax Museum of American Soul Music titled “The Grammy Goes to Memphis” that is both interesting and revealing. The actual Grammy statues presented to Elvis, Otis Redding, Bobby “Blue” Bland, and others are collected and displayed for the first time. A highlight film of Memphis-area Grammy winning moments is featured, along with a wall listing all the great artists from the Memphis area who have received the coveted award.

Jim Stewart

Full disclosure requires me to tell you that the Stax Museum is also my place of employment, but it  explains why I’ve had the chance to sit and stare at that wall for several hours at a time. All the names you would expect are there: Sam Phillips, Johnny Cash, Al Green, even Sheryl Crow from Sikeston, Missouri. An impressive number of Grammy awards have been bestowed upon the Stax family of artists, including Isaac Hayes, Booker T. & the MGs, The Staples Singers, and Sam and Dave. The prestigious Grammy Trustees’ Award has gone to Stax President Al Bell and company co-founder Estelle Axton. There is one glaring omission, however: Jim Stewart. I first thought it was an oversight and hastened to try and correct the error, but the co-founder and contributor of the first two letters of the name “Stax,” has never been recognized or celebrated by the Recording Academy.

Perhaps Stewart prefers it that way, since I understand that he is a private person, but it seems odd that his sister, Estelle, and his partner, Bell, would each receive one of the Academy’s highest awards, and he wouldn’t.

I don’t know Stewart personally and have only met him once, so I have no axe to grind here for anyone, but if not for Stewart, all those famous names on that Grammy wall would have never been known. Stewart and Axton’s leasing of the Capitol Theatre in South Memphis in 1958 and opening the doors to the talent in the neighborhood began a renaissance in soul music that still reverberates in popular culture. The former banker and country fiddler who fell in love with Ray Charles’ music, supervised and produced some of the most unique sounding recordings of the 20th century. And he did it by working with musicians, singers, talent, and administrators who were white and black, right in the middle of the Jim Crow era in the South.

For people like me, who grew up under segregation but never understood it, this rich and untried collaborative effort was and is a source of great pride. Watching films of the MGs and the Memphis Horns backing up the Stax stars and driving audiences crazy all over the world is still a thrilling experience. It’s not just the Recording Academy that owes Stewart long overdue accolades and appreciation; the city of Memphis does too.

Stewart’s contributions to popular music have not gone unrecognized. He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2002, but sent two granddaughters to receive the award on his behalf. This may be of great interest to visitors of the Cleveland museum, but what about the old hometown? Along with Sun Records scion Knox Phillips, Stewart’s efforts were instrumental in bringing the chapter of the National Association of Recording Arts and Sciences (NARAS) to Memphis, which celebrated its 20th anniversary last year. The local organization also recognizes its most vibrant and vital contributors to what has become known as the “Memphis Sound.” In annual programs and ceremonies over the years, NARAS Memphis has paid special tribute to Rufus and Carla Thomas, Eddie Floyd, Albert King, and the legacies of both Sun and Hi Records. It’s highest honor, the Governor’s Award, has been presented to Rufus Thomas and Axton, but not Stewart. The man who produced Otis Redding’s ”Respect,” can’t seem to get any from the same chapter he helped establish. Either Stewart called and personally insisted that he not be further involved in these awards, or somebody’s asleep at the switch.

In Robert Gordon’s perfectly pitched, new Stax biography, “Respect Yourself: Stax Records and the Soul Explosion,” he describes Stewart’s selling his interest in Stax to Bell in 1972. Yet two years later, when the company began feeling a financial squeeze from all quarters, Stewart reinvested his assets in an attempt to save what he had helped create. In the resulting bankruptcy and padlocking of Stax by the same bank for which Stewart once worked, he lost his fortune and his home. Stewart has remained retired from the music business and semi-reclusive in his private life, yet he attended the opening of the Stax Music Academy and has generously advised and assisted the young musical talents who were not yet born during Stax’s heyday.

I have always believed in sending flowers to the living, because afterward, they can’t smell them. Axton’s Trustee’s Award from the Recording Academy was given posthumously. Stewart is 84 years old. A man who has touched so many lives and literally altered the social fabric of the cosmos deserves at least an “attaboy” from his acolytes. Can I get a witness?

Randy Haspel writes the Born-Again Hippies blog, where a version of this column first appeared.

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David Porter

During the breakout of Stax Records in the ’60s, David Porter and Isaac Hayes worked as the studio’s “house composers.” The two wrote and produced 200 songs together, including many of Sam & Dave’s chart-toppers such as “I Thank You,” “When Something Is Wrong With My Baby,” and “Hold On I’m Comin’.” Porter’s honorary brass note on Beale includes the title “Soul Man,” one of Stax’s most successful singles. The song, inspired by the civil rights movement, won a Grammy award in 1968. In the ’70s, Porter began a solo career, recording under the names Little David and Kenny Cain.