Guitar, 18” x 24” acrylic (Photos courtesy Ron Jewell)
It’s hard out there for an impresario.
For years, Ron Jewell has been all in on the performing arts. In the 1980s and 1990s he was director of marketing for the Memphis Symphony Orchestra, and after that he joined the city of Bartlett to put together and run the Bartlett Performing Arts & Conference Center. As director of the facility, he booked the programming and turned it into a venue that drew healthy attendance. After 21 years there, he went over to the Orpheum Theatre Group where he was director of operations for the Halloran Centre for eight years.
But he wasn’t just behind the scenes in the performing arena — he’s had a yearslong run with his one-man show “Mark Twain At-Large” that he’s performed all over the country. He could run a show on either side of the curtain.
As happens with people of a certain age, however, he sensed change was afoot. “I began to prepare myself for retirement,” he said. “The whole concept of leaving a long career in the performing arts seemed like giving in somehow.”
Combustion, 11” x 14” acrylic
He had the finances to retire, but he just wasn’t sure what he’d do. “I just didn’t have any direction for what to look forward to. I wasn’t ready.”
And yet, something was already bubbling up. “About 10 years ago, I asked my daughter, on a lark, to get me a starter painting kit,” he said. “I began to push paint around a canvas without any instruction, playing all over the palette with great folly, while watching a variety of video demonstrations and tutorials on techniques and style.”
Wetland, 18” x 24” acrylic
He finally found his direction. And he’s well aware of how an artist’s initial explorations can go off in any number of ways. “As I discovered new paths for expression, the exhibit may seem, at times, a little tangential,” he said. “But the randomness in styles reflects the search for my own voice. I’ve found a new sense of purpose and rely on my creative energies to navigate what I call the ‘Second Winds.’”
Jewell’s explorations go far and wide, and that suits him just fine.
“I paint for myself, but I’m ready to include my circle of friends. You will excuse my amateurish attempts, but I hope you will also celebrate the never-ending power of an inspired imagination.”
Ron Jewell’s exhibition “Second Winds” is at Gallery Ten Ninety-One at WKNO, 7151 Cherry Farms Road, Cordova. The show runs from June 3rd to June 29th, with an opening reception Monday, June 3rd, from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m.
When Van Duren takes the stage at the Halloran Centre on Saturday, April 1st, he won’t be playing the fool or fooling around. Though the singer-songwriter is familiar as a solo performer on the local scene, this night will feature not only a full band, but a look back at what has been nearly 50 years of music from his pen. “If I’m going to do this,” he says, “I might as well do exactly what I want to do. And I’ve had this on my mind for quite some time. I want to address the breadth of the whole thing.”
That “thing” has been a roller-coaster career, careening through fat times and lean times, yet always centered on his carefully crafted songwriting. When Duren posted on social media about playing with his band Malarky at the original Lafayette’s Music Room in 1974, the set lists he included featured some stellar covers, heavy on The Beatles and Todd Rundgren, and he’s been aiming for that standard of quality ever since with his own songs. Not long after that, he was playing in the Baker Street Regulars with Jody Stephens and Chris Bell of Big Star.
“Musically, it was great, it was fantastic,” he says of those times. “I was playing bass and watching what Chris was doing on the guitar. It was a real education. But we never wrote anything together.” Rather, that’s when Duren leaned into forging his own path as a songwriter. “Jody and I worked on demos off and on, slipping into Ardent once in a while. Once or twice Chris came in with us and played some guitar on those tracks, but they were never released. Three or four of those were recut for my first album, but we never felt we were trying to emulate Big Star — we were just following our thing.”
That was a time when the power pop being invented by Big Star or Duren himself was commercial suicide. “I was thrilled just to be playing onstage with those guys. Though we only played six or eight gigs. We couldn’t get arrested. We couldn’t get any gigs. It was another square-peg situation. People just wanted to hear either Southern rock or disco. And we weren’t doing any of that stuff!”
Nonetheless, his demos got the attention of erstwhile Rolling Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham, and ultimately were his ticket out of Memphis. “They ended up getting me a recording deal with the label in Connecticut,” he recalls with typical understatement. That story, of course, is well documented in the film Waiting: The Van Duren Story, which “unfolds like a taut suspense thriller,” according to Goldmine magazine, detailing his starving artist days in Memphis and New York City as he strove to bring his songs to life. The 2018 film, its soundtrack, and the re-release of two albums’ worth of material from those days are what first prompted Duren to revisit those earliest days comprehensively.
“That was really the catalyst,” Duren recalls, “the whole film thing, from 2016 through 2019, and all the film festivals. I was forced to focus on the extreme past, and that was the spark that led to this thing at the Halloran.” Promoting the film in Australia even led to shows there that focused on his early work. In contrast to his most recent duo with singer-songwriter Vicki Loveland, the Australian jaunt “was an all-Van Duren tour. Vicki was with us, though, and she shone, as always. She was our secret weapon. We did five shows in Australia, and they were really amazing. People were stealing the set lists off the stage.”
But Saturday’s show won’t only feature Duren’s ’70s material. He’ll be drawing from all of his chapters, including the successful run from 1982-1999 with his band Good Question. “We worked all the time,” he recalls before turning to his collaborative work. “Tommy Hoehn and I also put two albums out together, recorded at Ardent with the young Pete Matthews as engineer. I’m really proud of those. So there will be some of that stuff at the show. And of course some Loveland Duren stuff, stuff from other collaborations that I’ve done, and material from all four of the solo albums I’ve done.” He takes a breath, then adds with a grin, “It will be pretty broad and adventurous.”
Van Duren will perform at the Halloran Centre, Saturday, April 1st, 7:30 p.m. Tickets cost $37.50 and can be purchased here.
Pat and Anne Halloran at his 80th birthday celebration at the Halloran Centre for Performing Arts & Education (Credit: Michael Donahue)
In addition to being St. Patrick’s Day, March 17th was St. Pat Halloran’s Day. Or make that “Night.”
More than 200 turned out to celebrate Halloran’s 80th birthday that evening at the Halloran Centre for Performing Arts & Education.
Halloran retired as The Orpheum president and CEO on December 31st, 2015.
The Centre was decorated with an Irish theme, which included artificial shamrocks, plastic green derbies, and gold foil-wrapped chocolate candy coins. Some tables featured tall glass votive candles bearing a likeness of Halloran, looking very saintly.
Pat Halloran votive candles graced tables at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party. (Credit: Michael Donahue)
The buffet included turkey sandwiches and meatballs, which was OK for the Catholic contingent because Bishop David Talley declared a dispensation for St. Patrick’s Day because it fell on a Friday. That meant Catholics could eat meat.
Following cocktails and dinner, guests converged to the auditorium for a video of Halloran’s life and career. This was followed by entertainment from Stax Music Academy performers.
Halloran’s birthday, actually, was on Tuesday, March 7th, but his wife, Anne, said that wasn’t a good night to have a party. “Anne said, ‘None of your friends will come on a Tuesday night ‘cause they don’t drink on Tuesday,” Pat says.
She suggested they hold the party on a weekend. “St. Patrick’s Day just seemed like a perfect date.”
When Anne asked him what he wanted to do for his 80th birthday, Pat says he told her, “First of all, I don’t want a surprise party.
“I just don’t like those. They usually backfire on you. My 50th birthday party was a surprise. And I was dating four or five different women. Nothing serious. Just dating around. The people coordinating the surprise party invited all five of them. And so I’m dodging them all night.”
For his 75th party, Pat and Anne held a private party. “With just our good friends in our condo complex. That was nice. Small.”
This year, when Anne asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, Pat said, “I don’t think I’m going to get another 80 in. So, I think what I want to do is I want to thank all the people who have helped me since I have been in Memphis.”
Melissa and Patrick Halloran at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Tawanda and Cordell Pirtle at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Dr. Scott and Mary Gilliland Morris at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Eleanor Williams and Shirley Ford at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)
“I’ve had a phenomenal life here. Ran for city council after I lived here four years. Won that city-wide without a runoff. Ran for mayor. Got my butt kicked. But that was a good thing because it opened the door for the Orpheum.
“Before that I was assistant dean of men at University of Miami, Florida from ’65 to ’69. I came to Memphis to run my college fraternity. It was bankrupt. Having trouble. I had that job for 11 years.”
Pat managed the financing and housing for the fraternity — Pi Kappa Alpha — for 11 years, which was during the time he was involved in politics.
Then, he says, “Lucia Gilliland and her executive committee from the Orpheum Foundation called me. She said, ‘Hey, I want to talk to you about something.’
“I told them I didn’t see me being in a theater for the rest of my life. I just lost the mayor’s race. I said, ‘I’ll try to raise the money you need to save the Orpheum.’”
By “save” he meant “Make sure it’s on solid ground.”
Pat said he’d work for the Orpheum for two years, but he discovered his two-year term kept coming up. And he didn’t leave.
But, he says, “I loved every minute of it. I told Anne I wanted to thank all the people who helped me in the city council race and those that helped me in the mayor’s race. And those tens of thousands of people at the Orpheum.”
That included people who were “sponsoring things, buying tickets, or just supporting the Orpheum. Get as many of them together as I can. And I want to say, ‘Thank you.’ And then I want to walk off the stage.”
Jeff Sanford and Cynthia Ham and Nickie and Chris Coleman at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Leighanne and Jack Soden at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Jeanie Gundlach and Steve Conley at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Bill and Donna Wolf at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Ron Jewell, David Pickler, Ron Olson, and a photo bomber wannabe (Credit: Michael Donahue)
Guests moved to the auditorium after Pat’s birthday party had been going for an hour or so. “They had a little video showing pictures from when I was born with my butt sticking up. And then all the way through my political career and then the Orpheum.”
There was another group of people Pat wanted to thank. After he retired, he started the “Positively Memphis” organization. “Our mission was to raise money to feed hungry children in our community. We raised over $400,000 during our initial campaign. Now we’re in our second phase. It’s just starting now. We also have periodic luncheons where we feature speakers that represent the most positive developments in our city. Crosstown Concourse conversion, the Tom Lee Park project, and so many others like that. I wanted to thank those people who donated the $400,000. And many of them were in the audience.”
Pat says he then took the stage and told the audience, “I just want you to know why you’re here. You all helped me and I want to thank you. And you made my life fabulous.”
Asked if life was good right now, Pat says, “It’s great. Anne and I are both retired. We’re sitting here collecting our social security checks and cutting out grocery coupons. And we’re loving life. We’re having a good time.”
Orpheum president and CEO Brett Batterson and his wife, Veronica, at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Onterreo and Quiana Harris at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Rockie Reinach and Richard Reinach at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Penny Aviotti and Caroline Williams at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Kevin Adams, Mike and Gay Williams, Dr. James Eason, Sara Adams, Laura Eason, and Terry Lynch at Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)Pat Halloran’s 80th birthday party (Credit: Michael Donahue)We Saw You
(from top to bottom) Scenes from the pioneering 1922 horror film Häxan, Howard Bell’s Jookin, and Bradford Thomason and Brett Whitcomb's Butterfly in the Sky.
These days, it seems that film discourse is dominated by discussions about the future. But while there are real issues facing the unique combination of art and commerce we call cinema, there’s more to movies than just the multiplex — and that’s what Indie Memphis has specialized in for the last 25 years.
“We are kind of in our own lane,” says Executive Director Kimel Fryer. “Indie Memphis is like no other film festival, because Memphis is like no other city.”
Indie Memphis was founded in 1998 by a group of University of Memphis film students led by Kelly Chandler. Known then as the Memphis Independent Film Festival, it attracted about 40 people to a Midtown coffee shop, where they watched student movies projected on a sheet hung on the wall. Nowadays, the annual festival boasts an attendance of more than 11,000, and the organization hosts programming and events year-round, such as the monthly Shoot & Splice programs, where filmmakers provide deep dives into their craft. The Indie Grants program was created in 2014 to help fund Memphis-made short films. The Black Creators Forum began in 2017 to help address the historic racial inequalities in filmmaking. During the pandemic, Eventive, a Memphis-based cinema services company that began as Indie Memphis’ online ticketing system, pioneered the virtual programming which is now an established feature of film festivals worldwide.
“It took 25 years for Indie Memphis to become an organization that reflects the city,” says Artistic Director Miriam Bale. “But each step along the way has added to what makes it special now.”
Memphis Grizzlies superstar Z-Bo in Michael Blevins’ 50 for Da City.Karbanová and Jitka Cerhová in Daisies.Tahar Rahim is a jilted lover in Don Juan.
A New Leader
Kimel Fryer took over as Indie Memphis’ new executive director only a few weeks ago. But she is no stranger to either Memphis or the world of independent film. She’s a West Tennessee native whose mother has taught at Oak Elementary since the mid-1990s. “My mom was always tough on me, and I’m grateful for it because I ended up kind of inheriting that from her,” she says. “In my mind, I’m supposed to reach for the stars. I’m supposed to overachieve.”
Fryer holds graduate degrees in law and business from the University of Memphis and the University of Tennessee at Knoxville. She has worked for companies as diverse as Lincoln Pacific and Pfizer, and left FedEx to take over the reins of Indie Memphis when Knox Shelton resigned after only a year on the job. The mother of two saw it as an opportunity to merge her professional life with her passion for film. “When I was working for Chrysler, I realized that I had this amazing job that I worked my butt off for,” she says. “It was a great company with great benefits. But I was depressed. If I wanna be completely honest, it was one of the saddest periods of my life.”
Growing up, Fryer had tried her hand at writing, and she had been involved with theater and band programs in high school and college. In Detroit, she found a new outlet for her creativity when she volunteered as casting director for filmmaker Robert Mychal Patrick Butler’s Life Ain’t Like the Movies. “The independent film world is very visible in Detroit,” she says.
When she landed Coming 2 America star Paul Bates for a role in the film, Butler promoted her to producer. “I said, ‘What is a producer?’ He said, ‘You’re kinda already doing it.’”
Fryer wrote and directed her own short film, “Something’s Off,” which will screen at Indie Memphis 2022. She says she got her acceptance email just a few weeks before she found out she was going to be the new executive director. “I’ve found this career where I could kind of wrap all my skills into one job,” she says. “I could actually be my full self all the time, which is really my dream.
“I’m very eager to learn and eager to meet other people, understand how they do things. But I’m also cognizant of the fact that I am coming back to Memphis, and we’ve always been a different city that has marched to the beat of our own drum. We’ve got to continue that as we continue to grow and strive for greatness in the film community. I’m really excited about what’s next. I believe in Indie Memphis. I believe in the staff. I believe we are headed towards a great film festival.”
The Picture Taker
From the 1950s to his death in 2007, it seemed that photographer Ernest Withers was everywhere. “We keep calling him a Zelig-like figure or like Forrest Gump,” says Phil Bertelsen, director of Indie Memphis 2022’s opening night film The Picture Taker. “He was at every flash point in Civil Rights history, and then some.”
Ernest Withers, courtesy of the Withers Family Trust.
Withers was a tireless documenter of Black life in the South. His work even appeared in publications like Jet and the Chicago Defender. “Some of my favorite photos of his are street portraits — the photos he took of everyday people just going about their daily business,” says Bertelsen.
“I think what made him almost like a father figure in Memphis was the fact that he recorded his community’s lives literally from birth to death,” says producer Lise Yasui. “He left behind an estimated 1.8 million photos. They are of every major event in every family’s life — as we say, it’s celebrations as well as sorrows. He locked that into their histories and made sure that they had these records of the lives they lived. Those photographs are really beautiful. They have an intimacy that can only come from someone inside the community.”
Three years after Withers’ 2007 death, Commercial Appeal reporter Marc Perrusquia revealed that the trusted photographer had been a paid informant for the FBI. The news came as a shock to many in the community, who saw it as a betrayal of the Civil Rights activists who had trusted Withers. “When you go behind the headlines and the surface of it all, you recognize that there’s a lot of nuance and complexity to that choice that he made at that time,” says the director. “What we attempted to do with the film is to try to understand that time, that choice, and the man who was at the center of it all.
“I think it could be said, without question, that Ernest was a patriot who believed in the hope and promise of this country,” continues Bertelsen. “Don’t forget he was a fourth-generation American war veteran.”
Withers was far from the only one talking to the FBI — their reports refer to him as source #338. “I had the privilege and the workload of reading as many of the FBI files as we could get our hands on,” says Yasui. “They tell a story that’s pretty intense and really detailed in terms of names, places, affiliations, and friendships — everything down to personal gossip. The other thing that you have to understand is they are FBI records written by FBI agents. So there’s not a single document in the 7,000+ pages that I’ve read that is a direct quote from Ernest himself. It’s always through the lens of his FBI handler. That’s not to say that what he wrote was not accurate, but it’s filtered through their agenda, which was to root out radicals who were allegedly inside the Civil Rights movement. …We heard testimony that he basically kept people from harm’s way because he knew what he knew. But at the same time, he damaged the reputations of people by informing on them. It was a double-edged sword that he was wielding.”
Ironically, it’s people like Coby Smith, a member of the Memphis-based Black Power group The Invaders, prime targets of the FBI’s COINTELPRO program, who defend Withers in The Picture Taker. “He was a man of great reputation and appreciation,” says Bertelsen. “In fact, we were hard-pressed to find anyone who had anything negative to say about him, even after it was shown that he informed on them.”
For Bertelsen and Yasui, this is the end of a six-year journey. “We are so grateful to the many people of Memphis who helped us get this story, especially the family who really took a leap of faith by trusting us with his images,” says Bertelsen. “They’ve had to face some very painful revelations about their patriarch, and they’re still facing them. I think it shows a certain amount of grace and trust and understanding. There are a lot of ways you can interpret this story, and they haven’t shied away from the truth. They told us they learned things about their dad that they didn’t know before, through this film. That’s very gratifying to us.”
The Poor & Hungry
In 2021, Craig Brewer directed Coming 2 America. It was his second collaboration with comedy superstar Eddie Murphy, and the biggest hit in the history of Amazon Studios.
In 2000, the biggest job Brewer had ever held was a clerk at Barnes & Noble bookstore. That was the year his first feature film, The Poor & Hungry, premiered at Indie Memphis. “I still feel that it was the biggest premiere that I’ve ever been to, and the one with the highest stakes,” he says. “Winning Best Feature for 2000 is still the greatest award I can ever remember winning in my life. … The festival back then was a beacon. It was the North Star. We were all making something so we could showcase it at Indie Memphis. It’s something I hope is still happening with the younger filmmakers today. I had another short that year called ‘Cleanup In Booth B.’ It was a big, productive time for me. But it was also the first time ever to see my work being shown in front of people at a movie theater.”
Craig Brewer’s The Poor & Hungry, which premiered at Indie Memphis Festival in 2000, will return to the festival.
The Poor & Hungry is the story of Eli (Eric Tate), a Memphis car thief who accidentally falls in love with one of his victims, a cellist named Amanda (Lake Latimer). The characters’ lives revolve around the P&H Cafe, a legendary Midtown dive bar which was run by the flamboyant Wanda Wilson, who plays herself. To call the black-and-white feature, shot with a handheld digital camcorder, “gritty” is a massive understatement. But Brewer was able to wring some striking, noir-like images from his cheap equipment, and the film features a series of great performances, most notably Lindsey Roberts’ stunning turn as Harper, a lesbian street hustler.
“I think what I got right on it is something that I tried to carry over to Hustle & Flow, which was, how do you create characters that, if somebody were to just describe them to you, you would say, ‘I don’t think I would like them’? But then, when you start watching them in the story, you find that you not only love them, but you want them to succeed, and you feel for them when they’re in pain.”
Made for $20,000, which Brewer inherited when his father Walter died suddenly of a heart attack, The Poor & Hungry would go on to win Best Feature at the Hollywood Film Festival, defeating films which had cost millions to produce. It got his foot in the door in Hollywood and earned him the opportunity to direct his second feature film Hustle & Flow, which was nominated for two Academy Awards, winning one for Three 6 Mafia’s song “It’s Hard Out Here For A Pimp.”
The Poor & Hungry will return to the festival where it premiered as part of Indie Memphis’ 25th anniversary celebration. “When I look at it now, I view it as an artifact of a time in Memphis. There are so many places that aren’t there anymore. The P&H Cafe that it’s named after is no more, and Wanda has left this planet in bodily form but remains in spirit. I’m so glad that I captured all that. It’s good to see a Memphis that may not be there anymore. But most importantly, I hope people come see it because it’s the movie that I point people to when they say that they want to make a movie but they think it’s impossible. Well, I made this with just a small camcorder, a microphone, four clamp lights, and a lot of effort.”
Hometown Heroes
It’s a bumper crop year for the Hometowner categories, which showcase films made here in the Bluff City. In addition to anniversary celebrations of Brewer’s The Poor & Hungry and this columnist’s punk rock documentary Antenna, nine features from Memphis filmmakers are screening during the festival.
Jookin is Howard Bell IV’s story of an aspiring dancer caught up in Memphis street life. The ’Vous by Jack Porter Lofton and Jeff Dailey is a documentary about the world-famous Rendezvous restaurant. Ready! Fire! Aim! is Melissa Sweazy’s portrait of Memphis entrepreneur Kemmons Wilson, founder of Holiday Inn. Show Business Is My Life — But I Can’t Prove It by G.B. Shannon is a documentary about the 50-year career of comedian Gary Mule Deer. Michael Blevins’ 50 for Da City recounts Z-Bo’s legendary run as a Memphis Grizzly. Cxffeeblack to Africa by Andrew Puccio traces Bartholomew Jones’ pilgrimage to Ethiopia to discover the roots of the java trade. United Front: The People’s Convention 1991Memphis is Chuck O’Bannon’s historical documentary about the movement that produced Memphis’ first Black mayor. Daphene R. McFerren’s Facing Down Storms: Memphis and the Making of Ida B. Wells sheds light on the Black journalist’s early years in the Bluff City. The Recycle King is Julian Harper’s character sketch of fashion designer Paul Thomas.
Bartholomew Jones in Andrew Puccio’s documentary Cxffeeblack to AfricaJack Oblivian in the Memphis punk rock documentary Antenna
On opening night is the Hometowner Narrative Shorts Competition. In recent years, this has been the toughest category in the entire festival, where Memphis filmmakers stretch their talents to the limits for 10 minutes at a time.
Janay Kelley is one of eight filmmakers whose works were chosen to screen in the narrative shorts competition. A junior at Rhodes College, she’s a product of the Indie Memphis CrewUp mentorship program, and two-time Grand Prize winner at the Indie Memphis Youth Festival. “This is my first film festival as an adult,” she says.
Kelley’s film is “The River,” an experimental marriage of imagery and verse. “My grandmother told me once that the river that you got baptized in could be the same river that drowns you in the morning. I like that dichotomy of healing and of destroying, of accepting new people into your life and saying, ‘Will you help me or will you harm me?’”
Kelley provides her own narration for the film, which was based on a prose poem she wrote while still in high school. “I take a lot of inspiration from my Southern heritage, especially from the women in my family,” she says.
The visuals reference several Black artists of the 20th century, especially the painting Funeral Procession by Ellis Wilson, which was famously featured on The Cosby Show. Kelley treats the many women, young and old, who appear in the film with a portraitist’s touch.
“Before I started in films, I was really into photography, and you can see a lot of that still in my work,” she says. “I come from a very poor background. There is a specific picture of my mother, my grandmother, and my aunt, and they got it taken at the fair. Back in the day, they used to take people’s portraits there, so some families would get dressed up to go to the fair to get their portraits taken, because they couldn’t afford to get it done any way else. What you need to know about being poor and Black in the South is that a lot of us don’t live long. So some of the stories I’ve heard about my family members, I’ve heard after they have died, and I’ve had to kind of stare at their pictures. I think it comes out of a genuine love of the history of photography, and what it meant for people like me.”
Witchcraft Through the Ages
Indie Memphis’ October spot on the calendar means that it coincides with what Bale calls “the spooky season,” when many horror movie aficionados embark on a monthlong binge watch. For this year’s festival, Bale programed a pair of rarely seen horror classics that have significant anniversaries. The first is Ghostwatch, a British mockumentary which debuted 30 years ago.
In the tradition of Orson Welles’ infamous Halloween radio broadcast of “War of the Worlds,” Ghostwatch was presented as a Halloween special in which real-life BBC journalists Sarah Greene and Craig Charles would broadcast a live investigation of a supposedly haunted house. But their goofy Halloween jokes turn serious when the house’s real ghosts show up and start causing mayhem. When it was first broadcast on Halloween night in 1992, the BBC switchboard was jammed with more than 1 million calls from viewers concerned that their favorite newscasters were being slaughtered by ghosts on live television. “This is a staff favorite,” says Bale.
The second Halloween special is Häxan, which has its 100th anniversary this year. Indie Memphis commissioned a new score for the silent film from Alex Greene, who is also the music editor for the Memphis Flyer. For this performance, Greene’s jazz ensemble The Rolling Head Orchestra — Jim Spake, Tom Lonardo, Mark Franklin, Carl Caspersen, and Jim Duckworth — will be joined by theremin virtuoso Kate Taylor. “We’ve been wanting to work with Alex for a long time, and this was a great opportunity,” says Bale.
Indie Memphis honors the 100th anniversary of the pioneering 1922 horror film Häxan with a new live score from Alex Greene and the Rolling Head Orchestra.
Director Benjamin Christensen based Häxan on his study of the Malleus Maleficarum (“The Hammer of Witches”), a guide for clergymen conducting witch hunts, published in 1486. Upon its premiere in 1922, Häxan was the most expensive silent film made in Europe. Christensen’s meticulous recreations of witches’ Sabbath celebrations, complete with flying broomsticks and an appearance by a mischievous Satan (played by the director himself), still look incredible. Its frank depictions of the Inquisition provide the horror. “I was shocked by how much of it is framed by the torture of the witches,” says Greene. “It implies that a lot of this crazy behavior they described was just victims trying to make up anything to stop the thumbscrews.”
Released a decade before Dracula ushered in the modern horror era, Häxan is a unique cinema experience. “I think of it as kind of like Shakespeare’s time, when the English language was not as settled in spellings and meanings of words. It was a fluid language,” says Greene. “This film came at a time when the language of cinema was very fluid and kind of up for grabs, which is why you could have this weird hybrid of documentary/reenactment/essay.”
“It’s within the Halloween realm, but not necessarily a horror movie,” says Bale. “That’s part of what’s so interesting about it. There are some silent films that just feel so fresh, they could have been made yesterday. Häxan is one of those.”
The 25th Indie Memphis Film Festival runs from October 19th to the 22nd at the Orpheum Theatre’s Halloran Centre, Crosstown Theater, Black Lodge, Malco Studio on the Square, The Circuit Playhouse, Playhouse on the Square, and virtually on Eventive. Festival passes and individual film tickets can be purchased at indiememphis.org. The Memphis Flyer will feature continuing coverage of Indie Memphis 2022 on the web at memphisflyer.com.
Greg Cartwright appears Thursday at Halloran Centre (Photo courtesy Orpheum Theatre Group)
Fair warning: there’s an undeniable bias in my reportage here, being a frequent band mate and collaborator with the subject of the interview below, native Memphian Greg Cartwright. And yet a certain historical imperative compels me to document the details of this songwriter’s process when his work is deemed so notable by critics and fans alike. That became eminently clear this spring, when a song Cartwright co-wrote with the Black Keys, “Wild Child,” topped Billboard’s adult alternative airplay chart. It was a level of success that’s long eluded an artist who’s typically had more critical acclaim than financial windfall. Yet tomorrow, when the Black Keys appear at the Radians Amphitheater at Memphis Botanic Gardens for Mempho Fest, Cartwright will be able to hear the song echoing through the air from his back yard. Will he raise a toast to the Memphis night?
Moreover, this evening, Thursday, September 29th, Cartwright will join Don Bryant and Alicja Trout in the season opener of Mark Edgar Stuart’s Memphis Songwriters Series at the Halloran Centre, with all three artists performing examples of their craft without a band, in the round. At such a moment, how could I resist calling up my old pal Greg to ask him his thoughts on the songwriter’s craft, in all its intricacies and rewards?
Greg Cartwright (Credit: Graham Winchester)
Memphis Flyer:You’ll be appearing with a national treasure, soul singer Don Bryant, on Thursday. How do you relate to his work?
Greg Cartwright: Don’s got an amazing voice and range, and boy that guy can sell a song. It’s amazing! And I love that he and Scott Bomar have this cool relationship, where Scott is Don’s producer and bandleader, and I think that’s such a cool older guy/younger guy relationship. And it’s win/win both ways. Scott’s got great skills, too. And he’s going to be at the event, I think, playing guitar while Don sings his stuff.
Also, I’m a huge Lowman Pauling and “5” Royales fan, so for me, it’s cool to work with somebody who wrote a song for them. It’s as close as I’m ever gonna get to doing anything with somebody who was there when all that magical era of gospel and R&B was happening. And Don’s an amazing songwriter. I love all his songs, from the 50’s on, including the more recent stuff that Scott’s produced. And the Willie Mitchell stuff — all great. I know he’s going to really bring it. I’m a little bit intimidated, to be honest. I don’t know if I can sell a song quite as well as he can.
Don Bryant (Credit: Jacob Blickinstaff)
There’s a certain spirit in that older school of songwriting that you have really zeroed in on and emulated.
Yeah, I really have. A lot of Don’s generation is what inspired me, in a lot of ways, to write in the way that I write. So I take a lot more inspiration from that era of country and rhythm and blues as a songwriter. I’ve always tried, when I have an opportunity to perform with or alongside artists from that generation, because I know there’s something I can learn in person that I can’t glean from a record.
You can kind of see how they embody what they do.
Yeah. Listening to records is great. You can get a lot from that, like you can get a lot from reading a book. But to be able to have a conversation with Hemingway would be a lot different. I can talk to him and understand more where the person is coming from. I always find it interesting to meet performers from that era, because it’s a little more insight into what makes the magic happen.
That era of songwriting has influenced you going back at least as far as the Compulsive Gamblers, and even through your Oblivians work.
You know, Jack [Yarber/Oblivian] and I had already done rock and roll, folk, country, all kinds of R&B and all kinds of other stuff with the Gamblers. So when Eric [Friedl] joined us and we did the Oblivians, it was a pretty late-blooming punk band. We were already adults. It was kind of a fake punk band, is what it was. The idea was, “What is punk music? It’s discontent.” So there were a lot of songs about what you don’t want to do [laughs]. And we took a lot of inspiration from the Ramones. That was Joey’s thing: I don’t wanna do this, I don’t wanna go there, “I’m Against It.” Him telling you what he’s not going to do. And that was an inspiration for the Oblivians. A template, if you will.
You’ve mentioned before that you Oblivians thought of your band as both fun and funny. There was a sense of humor to it.
Yeah, there totally was. It was an opportunity to laugh at life. There are some things in life where you can either laugh or cry. And there’s some very dark material in the Oblivians’ catalog. We took a lot of inspiration from the Fugs, which is a very tongue in cheek critique of society, as well as the Last Poets, also with a heavy critique of society, particularly the racist society in the United States. And you might laugh, and then find yourself going, “God, I shouldn’t laugh at that. That’s horrible!” But it is part of looking at what’s going on around you and trying to find some way to think about it that’s not just sad. But yeah, there’s a lot of dark stuff in the Oblivians. And I’m glad I had a platform to do that stuff when I was younger, because I don’t think I have it in me to laugh at a lot of that stuff at this point in my life.
You’ve talked about how with the last Reigning Sound studio album, you were trying to write in a more positive way.
Yeah, that was a big goal for me; because the pandemic, for a lot of people and a lot of songwriters, was a reset button, where it’s one thing to gripe in songs, or complain, but when you’re faced with some kind of new reality where you don’t even get to be around people, well, you stop complaining and you want to find something to be appreciative about. And that’s a better way of putting it. I was looking to appreciate. There are many things out there that are obstacles, always, but if you’re curious about what is happening around you, and you’re appreciative of the good things that come your way…
For a lot of my life, I thought that the gift I had was that I was very good at emoting whatever pain I was experiencing, in a way that other people seemed to relate to. There are a lot of songwriters like that. They really know how to put that into words, and emote it in a way that elicits a response from other people, where they totally empathize. So a lot of times, I would just be in this kind of trance onstage, sort of crying in public, in a way, and people responded to that. And I can’t say I grew out of it. It wasn’t a natural thing. I would have stayed that way if I hadn’t done a lot of work. But on the back side of that work, I wondered if I could also be just as good at emoting appreciation.
A sense of curiosity is important to that kind of openness, isn’t it?
It really is.
I’ve talked to Don Bryant about this, and also William Bell. Certain writers have this curiosity and this empathy, listening to and absorbing others’ stories. William Bell described sitting in cafes, just people-watching and getting song ideas.
That’s very true a lot of times; it’s so important to be curious, listening to people’s stories, because that’s how you find new subject matter. If you were confined to your personal autobiography, that’s pretty limited. I remember that someone once asked Jack [Oblivian], “Where do you get ideas for your songs?” He was like, “Small talk in bars.” Local gossip! If you keep your ears open, there’s plenty out there to write about. There’s plenty of new ways to frame an age old story, if you’re curious enough to see all the options, all the twists and turns.
You’ve known and worked with Alicja Trout for decades now, haven’t you?
A long time! Yeah, so when Lorette Velvette left the Alluring Strange, Randy Reinke took her place. And then I took Randy’s place, and played with them for a couple years. Then I started the Oblivians and started to get busy with that, and Alicja Trout was learning guitar, and it was my job to teach her the Alluring Strange songs, so she could take my place. And that’s how we got to know each other: teaching her songs for Misty White’s band. So there you go, Misty White is the Kevin Bacon of Memphis! [laughs]
Alicja was just learning guitar, and it’s amazing that she’s come so far. It wasn’t that much later, maybe five years or so, that she was doing her own stuff and playing with Jay [Reatard]. But even before she played with Jay, she had a band called Girls on Fire, and that was her and Claudine, who played guitar with Tav [Falco]. They had a band together. And boy, when I saw them for the first time, I called Larry Hardy at In The Red the next day and said, “I found a band I want to record, send me some money!” But before I could make it happen, they broke up. [laughs].
And even at that time, I thought, “Wow, she has really come a long way.” And it really amazed me. She had surpassed me as a guitar player, as far as what she could do as a lead guitarist. Because I’m very limited. For me, I’m always accompanying myself so I can perform a song. I’m not a great lead player. I enjoy the challenge, but I would never say I’m very good at it. But there are just some people that really take to something. They’re really passionate about it, and just want to do it, so I guess she must have wanted it. It didn’t take her very long to become a very good guitar player.
You and Alicja both have one foot in the punk world, the heavier rock world…
Aggression.
Yeah! But you both also step back and write these very delicate songs. Like Alicja’s beautiful “Howlin'” on the album of the same name; it’s mostly just her vocals and quiet electric guitar.
I like a bigger palette, and I think she does, too. As for me, I’m so in love with songwriting. It’s been such a helpful tool for me in my life, in so many ways, to process things, that the bigger palette I have, the better I can express myself. And I’m not very concerned with commercial success. So that gives me even less limitations. I think a lot of artists become very limited stylistically because they’re trying to define themselves as a certain kind of performer, or a certain kind of artist. And there’s no shame in that, but you have to have one eye on the marketplace to do that.
The Black Keys appear at Mempho Fest on Friday, September 30. (Credit: Jim Herrington)
How did your collaboration with the Black Keys come about?
I met them a long time ago, probably about 15 years ago. They were traveling with The Hentchmen from Detroit. So when the Hentchmen played Asheville, they told me Dan Auerbach was a huge fan and wanted to meet me. So Esther and I went to the show and afterwards we had an impromptu jam session, with myself, the Black Keys, and the Hentchmen, and we had a great time and got to be pretty friendly. And I hesitate to say this, but he basically said to me how inspiring he found my work. And that’s a massive compliment. Whether it’s the Hives or the Black Keys or whoever — people who’ve actually had success — for them to say to me, “Wow, you’re a huge inspiration to me, a lot of my art comes from emulating some of the things I hear in your music.”
But it’s an even bigger compliment when someone gets to a successful point in their career, and they say “Hey, would you like to come help me work on these productions and songs?” Dan thought enough of my songwriting that he not only wanted it in the Black Keys, but wanted me to help him with other artists he was working with. I really appreciated that. It helped me in so many ways. It gave me a new income stream, just to have a song credit on a Black Keys record is no small thing, especially if it’s a hit. And “Wild Child” was a hit. The synch license requests are still coming in daily.
But also, I think it opened me up to the idea of collaboration in a way that I had not allowed myself before. So around the beginning of the pandemic, I said I tried to focus more on appreciation, and that was a huge moment of growth. But then doing all these co-writing sessions with Dan also represented a lot of growth for me.
Prior to that, being in so many rock bands … When you’re in a band together, you spend too much time together, and eventually some things end acrimoniously. It was definitely that way for me. Prior to the Reigning Sound, the Oblivians spent too much time together and started to get on each other’s nerves. Then Jack and I went back to the Gamblers for a while, and we thought we could do that, but we quickly found out that we still, underneath it all, needed to get away from each other.
The now-defunct Reigning Sound in 2003 (cover photo by Dan Ball)
So when I started the Reigning Sound, my idea was that I would start a band where I would be the benevolent dictator, and everybody would have to do what I said. And I would be good to everybody, I would pay everybody fairly and be equal, but it would just be my songs and the covers I picked. I had never been the boss before, but at that point in my life, I needed that level of total control. Because I didn’t trust people. I had been burnt, I had had relationships that crumbled. And this kind of happens in romantic relationships, too, where you get to the point where you think, “I just need to be in control. I can’t relinquish any control because I might get hurt”. If you can’t be vulnerable, being in control is kind of the obvious option. And luckily I met you and Greg [Roberson] and Jeremy [Scott], and you guys were cool with that. You’re all great songwriters, so to find a bunch of talented people who understand music and get where you’re coming from, who aren’t going to be angry that you don’t want to consider their songs, that’s tricky. And for that same reason, it can’t last forever.
And I came to a point where, when I wrote this last record [A Little More Time with Reigning Sound], I thought, this is a much more positive side of my songwriting, but it’s also the last great burst, for a while, of me needing to have a band where it’s just me and my vision all the time. Now what I really want is to learn how to be vulnerable with other people, and to open up to other people’s ideas. Right now, I really want to do that. You have to tread lightly, and pick people that you trust. You have to pick people that feel safe, and then you can be vulnerable, and then you can be playful.
Did your collaboration with Dan Auerbach begin during the pandemic?
It did. His engineer Alan called and said, “Dan would really like you to come and write. Are you available these days?” So I went, and I had no idea what we would be doing, or who I’d be writing with or for. I assumed it was Dan; I thought maybe it was a solo record or something.
So I got there, and Dan said, this guy Marcus King is going to be here in a half hour and we’re going to write. And it kind of scared me! But as soon as Marcus got there, he was so friendly and open and funny that we had a great time. We got right to it and had four songs in a day. And a little while later, Dan called me back to work with another guy he’d signed, Early James. And we ended up doing two writing sessions together.
And after that, Dan said, ‘I’ve got another one.’ I asked him who it would be with, and he said, ‘It’s the Black Keys.’ [laughs]. So I went and we talked about some song ideas. He played me some jams that he and Pat [Carney] had recorded, with some hooks and stuff. So I went home, sat with them for a couple ideas, thought about lyric ideas, song ideas, chord changes that might be beneficial to the riffs that they had. And I went back and we sat around that day and wrote the rest of the songs. And I wasn’t sure what was going to happen at that point, but they just walked into the other room immediately and started recording. It was instantaneous. They recorded them just as we had worked it out together, then Dan put down a vocal, and that was it, we were done.
I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life! Usually you write a song and there’s weeks or months in between that moment of inspiration and when it gets laid down on tape. But Dan loves the idea of catching something when it’s fresh. There’s some kind of magic there that you might lose if you continue to play and record it. And I think that’s what makes the Black Keys work, especially when you listen back to their earliest stuff, that’s kind of raw and live, like the early Oblivians stuff. There’s not a lot of production going on, and not a lot of adjusting it after the fact. It is what it is.
It also speaks to how carefully you crafted it right out of the gate.
Right, you did all your thinking already. And I think Dan’s very much like the early Billy Sherrill and Rick Hall and all those people. They’re his heroes. And back in their heyday, pre-production was everything, because you couldn’t do much once it was on the tape. It was so limited, track-wise. So pre-production was everything. Where are the mics gonna go? Are you gonna play loud or soft? How are you going to sing it? Everything had to be figured out before the tape rolled. And then you got what you got. And I think Dan appreciates that way of thinking. He tracks live to one inch 8-track, the same as the last few records I’ve made. I’m enamored with it as well. I love the idea of planning everything out on the front and then just recording it.
With something like “Wild Child,” some people may not associate itwith ‘great songwriting,’ because it’s more primitive. It’s not, say, Leonard Cohen-style lyrics or whatever, but a lot of craftsmanship really goes into riff-oriented songs as well, doesn’t it?
Yeah. The song is two chords. It’s about as simple as a song can be. To me, that requires even more work. How do you build all these dynamics and cliffhangers and hooks and everything if it’s just the same two chords over and over? So it’s almost more challenging to make a really fun ride out of those two and half minutes. And I think that’s how people used to work back in the day. Now artists and musicians have the option of, “Well, you can lay down the basic track and continue to tweak it and add things and take things away, ad nauseam.” That is definitely a way to build a song. But it doesn’t really speak to me. And also, it’s exhausting. Because you’re never really sure when you’re done. If you’re doing all this stuff after you record it, editing and stuff, where do you stop? The way people used to do it, when you stopped was when it was recorded, and then you just mixed it.
It must have been very gratifying to go through that process in a day ortwo, and have one of those songs become a hit.
Yeah, it’s been a real experience, to say the least. I knew the date it was coming out, and I was really anticipating it, almost voyeuristically, like, “Boy, nobody knows I’m part of this, and I get to just watch it all happen.” But then it came out and all this press came out, and there was my name in every interview, talking about the process and my songwriting. So I felt a little bit vulnerable in a way I wasn’t anticipating, which was a little scary. I thought I was just gonna be a name in a credit on a record label. I didn’t think they’d actually talk about me. But I was also really appreciative of that, once I became comfortable with it. They were trying to tell the world I’m a good songwriter. What a nice thing to do.
I always enjoyed the feeling of sitting in the audience at a Big Ass Truck show, say, watching my songs be performed by others.
I know what you mean. There is that feeling of like, “This will stand!” This will stand on its own. I don’t have to be there animating it. It’s not me, it’s the song. And that is a great, great feeling. You’ve built something that will last, and that other people can inhabit. People will empathize so much with the lyric that they want to deliver it themselves.
(L-R) Leroy Hodges, Charles Hodges, Hubbie Turner (Photo: Ronnie Booze)
It was only a few months ago that this writer was privy to a stunning set of interviews with the remaining members of the Hi Rhythm Section. Hearing the Rev. Charles Hodges (organ), Archie “Hubbie” Turner (keyboardist), and Leroy “Flick” Hodges (bass) share stories from recording Al Green tracks in the very studio where it happened was a brilliant moment, but I kept wanting to hear them play some music. At Royal Studios, that’s what it’s all about.
Now, the general public can be privy to both the stories and the songs, played by the very musicians who were there. This Friday, August 26th, the Halloran Centre will present The Musical History of Royal Studios, narrated by producer, engineer, and studio co-owner Boo Mitchell. A musically driven journey through more than 60 years of history, the stories will center on the journey of Boo’s father, the late Willie Mitchell, and his iconic Royal Studios.
“I’ve wanted to do this type of show for a minute,” notes Mitchell in his typically laid-back way. “I thought it would be cool to showcase the music and the history, and let people learn some stuff they probably didn’t know.” Many may not realize, for example, that Royal, a cinema that was converted into a recording space in 1956, is one of the oldest continuously running studios in the world. As such, there will be a lot of history to cover in Friday’s show, going back to Willie Mitchell’s early days at Hi Records, based at Royal.
As Mitchell notes, “It’ll be an action-packed show, full of stories that people don’t know about. It’s about Royal, but it will focus on Willie Mitchell and the stuff he had to go through to get where he was, and to get Royal where it is. That’s the glue. You can’t tell the story without covering Willie Mitchell, so there’ll be some Willie Mitchell songs. Like ‘Soul Serenade’ and ‘20-75.’ Those were two pivotal tracks. ‘20-75’ was the first song that Willie engineered.”
Instrumentals were what put Hi Records on the map, going back to Bill Black’s Combo. But when trumpeter Willie Mitchell joined the label, he took the instrumental approach to a new, jazzier level. And once he got behind the mixing board, he made them snap, crackle, and pop. What’s remarkable about the Halloran show is that members of the same band that recorded those early hits, namely the Hodges brothers, are still playing in Memphis. Indeed, they’re still recording new hits at Royal today.
While Charles and Leroy’s brother Mabon “Teenie” Hodges passed away in 2014, Michael Toles, who first played with the Bar-Kays, and then Isaac Hayes’ band, will play guitar; Steve Potts will fill in for the late Howard Grimes’ and Al Jackson Jr.’s places on the drum throne. But the Hi Rhythm Section might more appropriately be called the Royal Rhythm Section, as their unique chemistry has continued to be caught on tape at the studio, long after the label folded.
Of course, Mitchell, who grew up in the studio under Willie’s wing, is on a first-name basis with the label’s greatest hitmakers. “We’ll play some Al [Green], Otis [Clay], Ann [Peebles], Syl [Johnson], and O. V. [Wright] songs,” he notes, before adding, “but we’ll also do a few of the more modern things by John Mayer and [Silk Sonic’s] ‘Smokin’ Out the Window’ and a couple of the new joints. And of course, ‘Uptown Funk.’”
A rotating cast of stellar singers will be fronting the band, including Marcus Scott (former lead singer of Tower of Power), Lil Rounds (American Idol finalist), Gerald Richardson (Cameo), and Ashton Riker (Stax Music Academy Alumnus). Mitchell himself, though a fine pianist, will not play. He does hint that he may join the band on a unique ’70s instrument featured on one of Royal’s most iconic hits. “I may play the electronic bongo device for ‘I Can’t Stand the Rain,’” he says. “But mostly I’ll be sitting on stage, narrating the whole thing. Telling stories, showing pictures. Then the band will play the music I talk about.”
Ted Torres Martin as Elvis (Photo: Club Elvis España)
Elvis hasn’t left the building, or rather Elvis hasn’t left the hearts of fans who keep his legacy alive, some even on stage where his star once shone so brightly. Ted Torres Martin is one such figure — a full-time Elvis tribute artist — and he’ll be here this week performing as Elvis in Aloha from Memphis.
Ever since an 11-year-old Martin caught a glimpse of the King in Jailhouse Rock, he has been enthralled with Elvis’ musicality and charisma. “I was just hooked,” he says, and his attraction to Elvis the musician was natural, seeing that his parents were professional musicians and he’s studied music all his life. “I became a musician first, and I learned to appreciate all kinds of music, but Elvis was always in the back of my mind. … His catalog is so extensive, more than people listen to, beyond the hits.”
Eventually, Martin began attending Elvis conventions. “I started meeting more people who knew him — family members, band members,” he says. “They heard me sing at open mics and told me I could [become an Elvis performer]. I was like, ‘No, I have long hair’ — I still kinda do. Like, ‘I’m a musician; I’m a songwriter. I’m not going to become an Elvis impersonator. There’s only one Elvis, blah blah blah.’”
But as he grew closer to the people who once knew Elvis — especially D.J. Fontana, Elvis’ longtime drummer, and Gordon Stoker from The Jordanaires who sang backup for him — Martin began to know Elvis the person. “I thought it was kinda weird how many similarities and parallels I found between his life and mine, character-wise as well, from what his friends told me,” Martin says. “Our personalities are pretty similar. By learning more about him from his friends, musicians, and family, I learned that he was such a good-hearted person. That attracted me to him even more.”
So, despite his initial resistance, Martin began his Elvis performances full-time nearly 20 years ago. “I’m like, ‘Okay, let me try to do this respectfully and as authentic as I can, at the same time keeping myself separated where I don’t get so lost where I think I’m Elvis or anything like that.’ I’m Elvis on stage, but when I step off the stage, I’m Ted.”
For Elvis Week, Martin will take over the Halloran Centre’s stage. “We’re doing a complete recreation of the Aloha from Hawaii, including what they called the insert songs that he did in montages,” Martin says. “We’re celebrating the upcoming 50th anniversary which will be in January in 2023. We’re getting ahead and going to do it during Elvis Week, which I feel is a very special thing.”
Aloha From Memphis Starring Ted Torres Martin, Halloran Centre, Friday, August 12, 3 p.m., $60-$85.
“Want to see a free mind-reading trick?” magician Hayden Childress asks on his website. “Whatever you do, DON’T read this sentence. Amazing isn’t it? You couldn’t help read but the sentence! Also, you probably didn’t notice ‘but’ and ‘read’ were switched in the sentence above, did you? Magic!”
“Is this some kind of mind game?” you might ask. “Surely, this isn’t ‘magical.’” Well, according to Childress, “Magic is just inherently tricks on your mind, something that’s messing with your perception of the world.”
But Childress’ on-stage tricks go beyond switching words around in a sentence. He prefers to use everyday, practical props. “Like, I might borrow a phone from the crowd,” he says. “Everything I do is very interactive. A lot of it involves me bringing a person up. It’s sleight of hand, comedy, and psychology with a lot of these tricks — messing with how people think or the decisions they’re going to make.”
And if you think that there’s no way someone can trick such a smarty as yourself, think again because Childress has been practicing his sleight of hand since he was 10. “I got into [magic] the same way most people got into it,” he says. “I saw some magic on television. Right away I went to the public library and picked up a bunch of books on magic and studied them front to back. And when I was about 11, there was a magic shop at a shopping mall about an hour from where I lived. I used to go there, and the magic shop owner saw that I was really into it and just let me work for tips doing tricks outside the shop. I would walk up to people at a table in the food court and say, ‘Hi, can I show you a magic trick?’ I did that pretty much every weekend.”
Childress also picked up gigs in high school, working parties. “I knew I could make some money doing it,” he says. “I wasn’t sure how doable it was to do it full-time because I didn’t know many people who did it at the time.” So, by his late teens, he was stuck between choosing college or pursuing magic, but as fate would have it , two established and successful full-time magicians (one of whom was David Copperfield), upon meeting him, advised him to do both. “Because if you fail with the magic, you have a fallback of a normal career so that way you can take more risks.”
So, instead of going to college parties, Childress took any gig that he could while pursuing his degree in business. Oddly enough, some of his business lessons have applied well to his magic — particularly in learning about consumer behavior, he says. “So like how does Amazon make you buy this brand of pen? A lot of it is the same psychology. Like how did Hayden make me think of ace of hearts? It’s kind of like using those same techniques in the show, but I use them for magic. It’s less marketable but it’s more fun.”
Now a full-time magician, Childress says of his work, “I hope that after someone sees it that it might make them think of the world differently. But if they don’t, they can just enjoy any magic trick.”
Hayden Childress, Halloran Centre, Friday, May 20th, 8 p.m., $28-$35.
Ray Parker Jr. and Garry Goin (Photo courtesy Orpheum Theatre Group)
You might think the Halloran Centre’s show Saturday, featuring local hero Garry Goin talking and playing with Ray Parker Jr., was a carefully orchestrated tie-in with today’s theatrical release of Ghostbusters: Afterlife. But you’d be wrong. Parker, of course, is the composer and performer of the theme song for the original Ghostbusters movie, but, as with so much that clicks in Memphis, the confluence of his live appearance here and the film’s release was sheer serendipity.
“I was telling my good friend and mentor, David Porter, who I’ve worked with for 20-some years, ‘I want to do these new shows, with storytelling and music,'” Goin recalls. “So we were kicking around a few names, and Ray’s name came up. This was in March of this year. But I wanted to wait and aim for November. When I called Ray, he didn’t hesitate. He said ‘Sure! I would love to do it.’ And Ray’s a big fan of David Porter and Memphis. And we just happened to pick November 20th. So the stars just seemed to line up, because it just so happens that the new Ghostbusters movie is being released on the 19th! I said, ‘Man, I couldn’t have planned this any better!’ Once he leaves here, he’s going out to L.A. I’m sure he’s doing promotional tours for the new movie. So this is perfect.”
Garry Goin (Credit: Craig Thompson)
Goin is a performer and A-list sideman and session guitarist in Memphis, often heard collaborating with Kirk Whalum, but he also specializes in producing music-themed shows for casinos and performing arts centers. In fact, that may rival his musicianship, in terms of raw talent.
“I’ve been doing this since the 1980s,” he says. “You do certain things and it’s like, ‘Man, I get that!’ I can see somebody else’s show and I can see what they’re doing, how they layered it — the staging, the lighting, the set design, the costumes. All that, I get. And I’m always thinking, ‘Where can I place that? Can I use some of that?'”
Yet with all this experience, Saturday’s show with his old Ghostbusting friend will be breaking new ground for Goin. For once, he won’t be the musical director. “I’ll be playing a little,” Goin says, “but I’m going to be doing more of the conversation with Ray, because this is something I haven’t done before. I want to get my feet wet in that area. So the musical director for the show is Chris Pat. We’ve got so many touring musicians who are based in Memphis. Chris Pat works with Christina Aguilera and the Jacksons. We have people from Stephanie Mills’ band. We have people from Stevie Wonder’s band. And they all live here in Memphis. And a lot of people don’t know! It’s a great band: great players, great personalities. And I have a few surprises for the audience, too. Some people that Ray Parker, Jr. has worked with, and some who are just fans of his music.”
The list of stellar artists with whom Parker has worked suggests that the surprise guests will be very impressive indeed. He’s been at the music game for a very long time, and quickly began working at a very high level. Perhaps you’re a fan of the Stevie Wonder track, “Maybe Your Baby”? That’s a teenaged Parker playing lead guitar. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
“Miles Davis said something like, ‘Genius is born, it’s not based on age,'” Goin reflects, “and Ray’s one of those chosen folks. He blew my mind, because when I was going through his work, I knew some of the stuff he’s been involved in, but I didn’t know everything. The first song that he wrote, he wrote with Marvin Gaye. It’s called ‘Funky Nation,’ and we’re going to play that song Saturday. As well as some other songs people may not have heard. And we’ll talk about the history of those songs.
“He goes all the way back to Motown. And he was a kid! He had his first number-one hit at 18 with ‘You Got the Love,’ that he co-wrote with Chaka Khan. And he just kept getting stronger and stronger from there. And he gives a lot of credit to Stevie Wonder, who encouraged and inspired him to write songs and to be better at what he was doing. He went from one thing to the next, from songwriting to producing to engineering. You know how some people just have this hunger and this appetite for knowledge and understanding? He’s one of those guys.”
Ray Parker Jr. (Photo courtesy Ray Parker Jr.)
Of course, there will be some exploration of “Ghostbusters,” the iconic song, the meme, the phenomenon. “I believe Ray Parker will go into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame,” Goin predicts. “Still today, ‘Ghostbusters’ sounds great. And it’s unique. I don’t want to put down anyone’s music, but the industry forces people today to sound like what is already out there. Because then you know you’ll get X amount of sales. But when I grew up, everyone was wondering, Who’s the next Beatles? The next Earth, Wind & Fire? The next Michael Jackson? Artists at that level are not competing with anyone but themselves. They push themselves to a much higher level. Ray Parker Jr. is one such artist. I wish our industry would go back to that.”
Carlene Carter was sitting on her porch when the call came in. Even if she hadn’t said so, I might have guessed because I could hear the sound of geese and turkeys coming through the phone. She said there were parakeets inside the house too, as more avian sounds intruded, like Martin Denny was producing our interview, or Jerry Byrd.
I knew I was going to enjoy talking to Carter when, first thing, she told me she was touring with Chris Casello on guitar. Casello’s a telecaster wizard and compulsive entertainer. His band The Sabres has been on heavy rotation in my car for the past year, at least. So, like others in her famously musical family, she has a knack for surrounding herself with great players. I’m starting with these images, because it’s all present tense. And when you’re talking to Country music royalty, it’s too easy to get hung up on the past.
We talked about her band, life, and what it means to be part of the First Family of Country Music, as well as the ongoing challenges of being an independent female artist.
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Memphis Flyer: Tell me about the show you’re bringing to The Halloran Centre.
Carlene Carter: I’m coming as a trio. I’m bringing my keyboard player who also plays harmonica and guitar, Al Hill. And Chris Casello.
I’m going to stop you already to geek out. Casello’s just a tremendous player, I met him at the Ameripolitan Awards a few years back. I know some great surf and rockabilly players and still — if it’s the same guy — he just makes you step back and rethink everything you know.
He was probably at Ameripolitan. He’s kind of a big deal. I met him when I came back from California in 2005. I did a musical based on my mom and the Carter family called Wildwood Flower. And Chris was in the house band and played Faron Young. We’ve been playing together on and off since then and he’s my go-to guy. I met Al Hill through Chris. We have a full band too. But I’d been out doing a lot of these shows by myself, and just wanted to add a little energy. Otherwise, it’s all kinda the same. I tell a lot of stories about life and growing up the way I did and what influenced me. I even tell about my mom saying the first record I listened to was when she danced with me to “Mystery Train.” I try to let people know a little more about what it was like on the inside, being a young Carter girl.
That sounds great. And a good group for playing all the traditional stuff and your own songs.
Obviously, I’ve had a long career and a lot of different kinds of music has come out of me. But I’ve always returned to the music I grew up with and that was Carter Family Music. People can say it’s country music, and yeah it is. But it’s timeless to me. And I have a certain amount of energy that I still have at the age of 63, so I can still rock a little bit. It drives the guys all crazy because I never have a set list until right before a show. Sometimes I go, “You know, I’m just going to wing it.” I think it keeps us on our toes. It keeps me really fresh instead of being where I have just one show that I do.
I’m going to play this recording for my band the next time they’re pressing me for a set list.
It keeps you really fresh. Keeps everybody on their toes. It’s good to have a set list when you’re playing with a full band. But in the situation we have, we can just jam like we want to. I’m really fortunate that I have a good duet partner in Al Hill. You never know what’s going to happen. It’s fun.
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I remember seeing an interview with you when you were just starting out, maybe. People would assume you knew everything about country music, but you didn’t because you were just inside this musical world. It was just your family and your life. It was a kind of disconnect.
Yeah. I didn’t listen to country radio except for the Grand Ole Opry. And that’s because I want to go see my mom and my aunts and my grandma on there. People I grew up with like Minnie Pearl, who would babysit me on the side of the stage sometime at the Ryman. It was just a conglomeration of all these folks I just knew. So, because of that, I don’t think I really understood the extent of the stardom they had. Even my father Carl Smith. And Johnny Cash. You know, he just did Johnny Cash. That’s one of the things I inherited. I was encouraged to not pay so much attention to a lot of stuff, and to do what makes you feel right and do what’s real.
That seems in the family spirit. Cash always introduced new sounds and artists. A.P. wandered the countryside asking people about the songs their families sang. Looking back and forward at the same time.
Gathering. Gathering information. Gathering stories. So much of what I do is about my life. A lot of my songs are autobiographical. They’re not necessarily story songs, but I can fill in the blanks.
Exactly.
I’m really looking forward to coming to Memphis because it is a place I’ve always felt connected to. It’s down the road from Nashville and now that I live in Nashville, I’m so happy to be coming there. I can just get my car in the morning and drive on down then play. To me that’s what it’s all about. That’s how I grew up — “Let’s go pick a show!” And you drive and get there and play and get in the car and drive back. That’s just how I roll. Although I’ll probably spend the night, I’m thinking.
Obviously, there are a lot of advantages to growing up in this world where music is woven into everything, but was there also obligation? Sometimes it’s hard to grow in the shade. June Carter, Carl Smith, Johnny Cash — these are some pretty long shadows.
I know what you’re saying. I get this question quite a lot, really. And I never considered it either until people start asking me about it since, pretty much back at the beginning of my career. When your parents are iconic performers, you don’t really know. They were all four of them — Goldie, Carl, Johnny, and Mom — very down-to-earth people. We had a normal kind of life in a lot of ways. We swam and we fished and we’d work in the garden and we did things that other people did. And then we picked a show. I learned a lot from that. And I’ve got so much respect for my grandma. What I learned from her was a great work ethic, and a great balance between being a person and not a superstar. I never really got to the point where I had to handle that though.
But you’ve had hits, and a career.
And I feel responsibility for a lot of it now particularly since my mom passed away. I was told very early on, “when we’re all gone you’ll have to carry on the music, keep it alive to the best of your ability, and add to it.” I took that very seriously. I always try to tip my hat to my heritage. Also whenever I didn’t know what to do musically, I went back to Carter Family music. I’d sing it, and play it, and get back in touch with what is in my DNA. Because I really do believe there’s DNA involved here. So when I got around to doing Carter Girl in 2014, it’s a record I always knew I was going to make someday.
I don’t know how you pick a record’s worth of songs out of a catalog of so many songs.
The songs would change drastically from week to week. It would change all the time. And I’m trying to write. I kept thinking I could do that for the rest of my life. And that’s kind of what I am doing. And I want to pass it down to my daughter and my granddaughters. I don’t know if the boys want to be Carter boys, but the girls are leaning that way. If I can only get them singing. There’s an age where they don’t really want to sing. They want to play, which is great.
I don’t want to focus too much on the past.
One of the things I accepted a long time ago was anytime anybody wrote about me there was going to be a full paragraph about who I was related to — “And now, Carlene!”
I’m sure. And you get it from all sides having been married to Nick Lowe.
And the huge influence he had on me. Howie Epstein too. I just had good teachers. I did. And I soaked up everything I could from people who really knew how to make records. Nick would always tell me, just remember to always practice your craft. He’s coming to Nashville in May and I’m going to see him because he still inspires me.
For Carlene Carter Where She Comes Is Where She’s Bound
You talked about how picking shows is just in your DNA. But — and I might be wrong about this. But when Carl Smith finally retired, didn’t he basically give up being Mr. Country Music and decide to just be a regular guy?
He had a long career. It was like 30 years. He burned up the road, and burned up the charts, and everything he touched turned gold. And by that point, he’d done it all. At that point in his life he said, “I want to concentrate on being home and working with horses.” He wanted to focus on horses and he did. A lot of people who had the success my daddy had would never dream of walking away from it, but he did. A lot of people say they’re retiring from the road, but then they come back because they can’t stay away from the action, or the feeling they get when they’re performing, or the music. Daddy was happy on his horse whistling and singing his heart out in a field counting cows. In the last couple years of his life, I spent more one-on-one time with my dad than I ever had. I always saw him, of course, and my stepmother was very much a part of that. She made sure she was the one who would call and say, “Does Carlene want to come out this weekend?” Daddy wasn’t one of those kinds of dads, but he was always glad to see me. And I had my sister and brothers out there and that was really a much more normal life than I had, particularly after Mom married John.
Oh, I’m sure.
After mom married John, things changed for us in terms of being in a fishbowl and being seen, and being on the cover of The National Enquirer, as a kid.
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National Enquirer — yeah, that’s got to be completely surreal.
Daddy gave it up the year I started making records, 1978. So he never took us on the road like the Carters did or Cash did. That was a traveling family. But Daddy, he went to work. Even so much so that my brother, when he was little, they asked him in school what his dad did for a living, and my brother Carl said, “Oh, he works at the airport.” Because he was always going off to the airport! I never got to see him perform very much. I saw him one time in Las Vegas when I was about 16. So he retired in 1978, and that was the same year my grandmother passed away. So it was the start of something for me, but the end of Daddy’s musical career, and the end of Grandma’s musical career. And her not being there for advice I counted on. I counted on her for a lot of that stuff. She always had time for all of her grandkids. She’d teach about anything, and she loved playing with us no matter what, whether we were good or not. Though, she’d give you the evil eye if you were on stage and messed up. I’ve tried to carry the best of everything with me. Sometimes I show my ass on stage and made big sweeping statements I wish I never said. But I love playing to a live audience and the engagement I have with them. It’s very personal for me. By the end of the show, I think people know me.
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You’ve said some things about how women who wanted to do their own thing and didn’t fit a package got labeled difficult.
I remember going to my label in the nineties, and they said, “You need to realize that you can’t have the kind of record sales men have.” Like 80 percent of the market is women and women don’t buy women’s records.I just thought that was insane. It made no sense to me. I bought women’s records most of my life. I love Etta James. I love Janis Joplin. Linda Ronstadt was a huge influence. It made no sense to me. And that you might get 20% of sales because you’re a woman made no sense to me. So I decided early on, I’m not going to let them get me down. I’m going to be the highest energy female act, and I’m going to make people happy.
I know this is an impossible question, but is there any one image or anecdote that really illustrates what it was like growing up in the Carter Family?
Probably the biggest thing in my mind that I always go back to, is being a young girl who wants to be a songwriter, and sitting in our music room on the lake in Hendersonville, and looking around the room and seeing Roy Orbison and Paul McCartney sit down at the piano and play “Lady Madonna.” And Kris Kristofferson was there. And Mickey Newbury. And George and Tammy are there. And we have this real thing of having people just eating together. And then sharing together in such an intimate way. It’s such a reminder of why we make music.
Carlene Carter celebrates her family tradition Saturday, April 13th at The Halloran Centre.
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