The musical acts at the annual Cooper-Young Festival always hit a little differently from your typical music festival. Maybe it’s because they’re performing in a swirl of other features, like the artisans, fine artists, and food vendors that congregate up and down Cooper Street and adjacent areas, or maybe it’s the neighborhood vibe that reigns supreme at the event, but there’s a certain intimacy to the experience. And that’s in spite of the huge numbers of people that congregate there, often upwards of 120,000 in a given year.
This year, it’s officially the Guaranty Bank Cooper Young Festival, to be celebrated on Saturday, September 14th, and the musical schedule offers arguably the festival’s best lineup yet. The most fervent music lovers will want to arrive even before that lineup begins, when the Bellevue Middle School band, with its 32-piece drum line, kicks off the day by marching down Cooper Street at 9 a.m.
After that, consult this schedule to determine which stage to head for first. The Guaranty Bank Stage in front of the Young Avenue Deli will come to life at 11 a.m., and the Memphis Grizzles Stage, at the intersection of Young Avenue and Meda Street, snaps into action at 12:30 p.m.
Stage
Time
Artist
Genre
Guaranty
11:15
Rachel Maxann & Her Emotional Support Band
Folk/Soul
Guaranty
12:15
Oakwalker
Folk
Guaranty
1:15
Tennessee Screamers
Folk, Country
Guaranty
2:15
Jombi
Psychedelic Rock
Guaranty
3:15
Salo Pallini
Progressive Latin Jazz Rock
Guaranty
4:15
Cameron Bethany
R&B
Guaranty
5:15
Carla Thomas
Soul
Grizzlies
12:30
Turnstyles
Garage/Surf Rock
Grizzlies
1:30
General Labor
Electronic
Grizzlies
2:30
Late Night Cardigan
Power Pop/Rock
Grizzlies
3:30
Black Cream
Rock/Soul
Grizzlies
4:30
Steve Selvidge Band
Rock
The sheer eclecticism of the lineup is astonishing, and a testament to all that Memphis has to offer. Of course, the standout performer is the legendary Carla Thomas, whose frank and trenchant commentary in this year’s stunning HBO documentary, Stax: Soulsville USA, has won her many new fans. Naturally, she’ll be backed by the 926 Stax Music Academy Alumni Band, comprised of the best and brightest musicians trained at the academy on McLemore Avenue, as she presents “B-A-B-Y,” “Gee Whiz (Look at His Eyes),” “Tramp,” and other hits that made her the Queen of Memphis Soul. Not to be missed!
There’s an epic tale unfolding in the Memphis music world these days. You might call it “The History of the Decline and Fall of the Rock Empire,” though it’s still not clear how much of a fall has been suffered. The local rock scene is a creative hotbed, as we’ll see, but that’s in the wider context of “rock music,” whatever that is, suffering an overall drop in popularity.
Six years ago, Salon noted that a Rubicon had been crossed in the music industry. “For the first time in Nielsen Music history, R&B/hip-hop has become the most consumed music genre in the United States,” wrote Taylor Link. “It’s a watershed moment for the Black-dominated genre. Former longtime volume leader rock … dropped to second with 23 percent of the total volume.” And only last year, Louder magazine decried, “There’s not one new rock/metal album among this year’s 200 best-selling albums in America.”
Such a sea change would have been unimaginable in the last century. Rock, aka “rawk,” the stepchild of rock-and-roll, arguably born with the opening power chords of The Kinks’ “You Really Got Me” in 1964, marked a whole new approach to the electric guitar, trading on its capacity for noise. If British musos were inspired by American innovators like Bo Diddley and local hero Paul Burlison, a whole new sound was forged once Kink Dave Davies leaned into the metallic sound of his distorted guitar chords — loudly. Suddenly that lurching cousin of the blues, the rock riff, was selling records. Now, nearly 60 years on? Not so much.
Museum Relics
That’s put in perspective with a visit to the Memphis Museum of Science & History (MoSH), where two current exhibits shed perspective on rock by looking at its chief tool and icon: the guitar. Both “America at the Crossroads: The Guitar and a Changing Nation,” curated by the National Guitar Museum, and MoSH’s own “Grind City Picks: The Music That Made Memphis” trace the instrument’s evolving design and cultural importance with more than 40 examples of the luthier’s craft on display. As Harvey Newquist of the National Guitar Museum notes, rock, hard rock, and metal were more than just a sound. They expressed the whole ethos of the counterculture.
“It was the first generation that had guitar sounds of its own,” he says. “And they were distorted guitar sounds. Post-British Invasion, the first insanely heavy guitar sounds in America came from people like Jimi Hendrix, who inspired later bands like Aerosmith and Van Halen. The rise of that sound was very much a reflection of American youth culture, more so than country-western and the blues and everything else because it was so very integrated with teen angst, as it were.”
Angst and good times, that is. “I want to rock and roll all night — and party every day!” as KISS sang. The rock riff captured the zeitgeist in all its contradictions. “Hard rock and metal, and the sound of a distorted overdriven guitar, was a sound that had never been heard before,” says Newquist. “Here was a generation that didn’t want saxophones and pianos and horns. They wanted something raw and powerful to represent them, and hard rock and metal fit the bill perfectly.”
In the exhibit, changes in the guitar’s sound are tracked visually, as the instruments come to embody either futuristic utopianism or pre-modern warfare. “The iconic, heavy rock guitarist was playing Les Paul,” Newquist explains. “But B.C. Rich created extraordinarily angular guitars that were embraced by bands like Slayer and Lita Ford because they were so aggressive looking. They’re all points and angles, which gives them kind of a lethal look.”
It was all happening in Memphis, as well. At the end of the nationally touring exhibit comes MoSH’s Memphis addition, “Grind City Picks,” where you can see, mixed in with blues, soul, funk, jazz, and rockabilly axes, signs of heavy rock taking up permanent residence on the Bluff.
Hear Rock City
One of those signs in “Grind City Picks” is Steve Selvidge’s Fender Stratocaster. That single artifact captures an entire genealogy of heavy guitar rock in Memphis, in part because Selvidge is “following in his father Sid Selvidge’s footsteps,” as the signage says. But it goes deeper than that. The Selvidges were especially close with fellow Mudboy & the Neutrons member Lee Baker, a local pioneer of heavy guitar. “Baker would be over at the house a lot, or we’d be over at Baker’s house,” Selvidge noted of his childhood in a 2021 interview. “He had a guitar … and I was just fascinated with the guitar, any guitar.”
Indeed, Baker was an innovator in the realm of loud, distorted riffs. The influence of the 1969 debut by his pre-Mudboy band, Moloch, was obvious three years later when Jeff Beck, cutting an album in Memphis, covered their version of “Going Down.” The song’s slow, sinking rock riff was the perfect transformation of the blues into a wholly new genre, and Beck kept it in his set for decades to come.
Today, Selvidge the younger, arguably the city’s biggest Moloch fan, has repeatedly distinguished himself in the rock riff department, sporadically in the ’90s funk/alt-rock band Big Ass Truck and today with The Hold Steady, a Brooklyn-based group combining a pile-driving rock sound with Craig Finn’s trenchant, literate lyrics, with whom Selvidge has played with since 2010.
But that’s just the tip of the hard rock iceberg in this town, where, despite national trends, the rawk sound marches on. Memphis has had its hand in that game for decades. Having played with classic rock-leaning Target in the ’70s, singer Jimi Jamison then led the band Cobra, which in turn led to his joining the mega-group Survivor combo in 1984 (after they’d already hit it big with “Eye of the Tiger”). Jamison helped keep them in the charts with hits like “I Can’t Hold Back” and “High on You.” Like the bigger hard rock bands in the charts, Survivor was a prime example of “Album Oriented Rock” (AOR), which mixed heavy guitar riffs with catchy choruses and sparkling production values. Meanwhile, a Memphian who’d previously dabbled in country rock, Jimmy Davis, adapted to the times and dove into AOR himself, fronting Jimmy Davis & Junction. Their debut, Kick the Wall, was produced by Jack Holder, who’d helped pen songs for Southern rock outfit 38 Special, and the title song became a minor hit.
Those artists in turn inspired many younger groups in their wake. Take Tora Tora, sometimes considered a “hair metal” band. Singer Anthony Corder recalls those times in the late ’80s when he and three other high schoolers were just learning their craft. “We were into older bands like Target, one of Jimi Jamison’s bands, who were on A&M [Records],” he says. “We won some local competition and the prize was a day at Ardent. And when we went in, the engineer happened to be Paul Ebersol.” As it happened, Ebersol was to become a key figure in the heavy rock coming out of Memphis, ultimately producing local angst-metal hitmakers Saliva in the early 2000s. “Paul just saw something in us that we didn’t even see,” says Corder.
Championed by Ebersol, Ardent took the band under its wing, and it was a particularly charmed era to be playing hair metal. “As we were coming up, the scene was exploding,” Corder notes. Before long, with Corder still in high school, Tora Tora was signed to A&M as well, and their debut album reached #47 on the charts. By the dawn of the ’90s, other Memphis groups, like Roxy Blue, Every Mother’s Nightmare, and Mother Station (featuring guitarist Gwin Spencer and singer/songwriter Susan Marshall), were also thriving, albeit not with the same success as Tora Tora. But even as Memphis metal was going big time, the seeds of its demise had already been sown.
Metal Meets Punk
Even before Tora Tora’s ascent, an alternative approach to hard rocking sounds had been gestating in the legendary Antenna Club, originally known as The Well. While some punk was morphing into what’s now called hardcore, played at a frenetic pace and with little melodic content, others, like the Modifiers, played metal-inspired music that retained a punk attitude. “The Modifiers poured their sweat and souls into every performance, breaking ground and opening doors for every original punk/alternative band in this town,” wrote J.D. Reager in the Memphis Flyer after the band’s guitarist, Bob Holmes, died in 2019.
Reager quotes Memphis native David Catching, who, after playing with the Modifiers for 10 years, went on to be a producer and guitarist for the Eagles of Death Metal and Queens of the Stone Age: “I’ll never forget meeting Bob at the Well,” says Catching. “He and Alex Chilton were my first guitar heroes I could actually talk to.”
While the Modifiers never dented the charts, to some extent they prefigured Nirvana’s breakthrough smash Nevermind in 1991, which spelled the end of hair metal’s dominance. The so-called grunge movement proffered “seventies-influenced, slowed-down punk music,” as producer Jack Endino told Rolling Stone in 1992. Like the heavier bands at the Antenna, grunge bands rejected the more pop elements of glam metal but kept the riffs, and their audiences followed suit. Ironically, by 1995 the Antenna Club had closed its doors. But a new hybrid hard rock was just getting started.
One unique Memphis group from that era was Son of Slam, whose album Trailer Parks, Politics & God was released in 1994. According to LastFm.com, they “spit in the face of pretty boy glam bands” and “found legions of loyal fans in cities throughout the South and the Midwest.” Fronted by the flamboyantly unhinged Chris Scott, the group also featured guitar virtuoso Eric Lewis and the rhythm section of Terrence “T-Money” Bishop (bass) and John “Bubba” Bonds (drums). All four, especially the latter two holding down the rhythm, continue to impact the scene today.
Only slightly later, other artists fond of killer riffs were getting their start. Local bluesy punks the Oblivians inspired young James Lee Lindsey Jr. to begin a career of his own that, like the Modifiers before him, would sometimes straddle the line between punk and metal.
Taking the name Jay Reatard, Lindsey began firmly in the punk camp, yet as the century turned, he partnered with Memphis songwriter/guitarist Alicja Trout to form the Lost Sounds, slowing the tempo slightly and adding synths to their guitar crunch. Beginning in the early 2000s, long after hair metal’s star had fallen, the Lost Sounds and other Goner-affiliated bands kept the torch of hard rock riffs burning. Hard rock was already giving way to hip-hop and electronic music on the charts, but it still percolated in Memphis with a fierce, rebellious energy.
“We were trying to challenge ourselves,” Trout says today of the Lost Sounds’ debut, Black-Wave. “It was not quite prog rock because there weren’t any jam-out moments there. We called it Black-Wave because we were trying to mix black metal and new wave.”
The Lost Sounds challenged listeners’ preconceptions as well, not least because a woman playing heavy guitar riffs was not a common sight. “When I started playing, it was novel to have a woman playing guitar and playing heavy,” Trout says. “Now, it’s no longer a novelty to be a female playing guitar in a band, although I feel like rock is still mainly dude territory.”
Trout ultimately parted ways with Lindsey, who carried on as Jay Reatard, eventually releasing the popular punk/metal hybrid albums Blood Visions and Watch Me Fall in 2009. Tragically, the next year a likely overdose took his life, a loss that the city still mourns. But Trout had already struck out on her own years before, recruiting Bishop and Bonds to found the River City Tanlines in 2004.
“I think the River City Tanlines is the most rock-and-roll band of any band I’ve ever been in,” Trout says today. “The Lost Sounds were just getting further and further from conventional songwriting, getting into time changes and epic outros and noise intros and all these layered keyboards. It really came down to me thinking, ‘Man, I just want to do something simple and fun.’ Going back to basic songwriting with a good verse or chorus riff. And then Terrence and Bubba put their rock experience twist on it.”
The Son of Slam rhythm section was perfect for Trout, for whom the “punk” label never was quite appropriate. “Whenever I’m put in with punk,” she notes, “the only thing I can think of is the Ramones, Blondie, and maybe The Velvet Underground — the New York definition of that word. Other than that, I only like smatterings of punk. It’s not me at all.”
We Will, We Will Rock Us
Despite all labels and market trends, artists like Selvidge and Trout epitomize hard rock’s staying power. The River City Tanlines still play today, as does Trout’s other group, Sweet Knives. That band’s 2022 album Spritzerita is a masterful punk/hard rock hybrid not unlike the Lost Sounds and, as Trout explains, that’s no accident. “I formed Sweet Knives to play all the Lost Sounds songs that had been put to sleep,” she says. “But it wasn’t long until [original Lost Sounds drummer] Rich Crook and I started writing songs together.” Now they continue with an evolving lineup.
Other bands that began in the ’90s have enjoyed similar longevity. The 30-year-old band Pezz, who, according to the Flyer’s Chris McCoy, has always had “a melodic streak that endeared them to pop-punk fans,” continues to play today and is featured in the MoSH exhibit. And the Subteens, who also feature Bonds on drums, have soldiered on for nearly as long, releasing what is perhaps their greatest work, Vol. 4: Dashed Hopes & Good Intentions, only last year. It’s full of “propulsive anthems, driving riffs, and soaring solos that offer portraits of an underground community teetering between hope, exultation, rage, and despair,” as noted in the Flyer.
Still more groups straddling punk and hard rock have sprouted up in the past decade and a half, including the Dirty Streets, whose rocking guitar sound harks back to the Faces or The Rolling Stones; HEELS, who combined Clash-like politics with up-tempo riffs in last year’s masterpiece, Pop Songs for a Dying Planet; Opossums, who skew towards pop punk melodicism in their latest, Bite; and the duo Turnstyles, who’ve perfected the rock sound in its most minimalist expression: a guitarist and a drummer, both of whom sing.
Simultaneously, some masterful guitarists are keeping the classic rock spirit alive here. The originals on Robert Allen Parker’s recent double album, The River’s Invitation, mine a classic mash-up of Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and the Allman Brothers. Mama Honey, a trio led by guitarist Tamar Love, relies on her Hendrix-inspired, unabashedly rock-and-funk-fueled riffs.
And no group tours more regularly than Joecephus and the George Jonestown Massacre, the brainchild of guitarist Joey Killingsworth, who’s specialized in masterminding charity albums that draw on cameos from the metal, rock, and punk worlds (such as J.D. Pinkus from the Butthole Surfers), often in tributes to classic ’70s rockers like Black Oak Arkansas and Nazareth (with an MC5 tribute to be released later this year). Killingsworth is also the axe man behind A Thousand Lights, who started as a Stooges cover band but soon morphed into an original goth rock band in their own right.
Perhaps the clearest sign that hard rock is rooted here for good is the revival Tora Tora has enjoyed in recent years, having released an album of all new material, Bastards of Beale, in 2019 — still with the original four members that met in high school. “There’s still an audience here that I’m playing to, and they’re like super fans,” says Corder. “They’re super passionate. We jumped on the Monsters of Rock Cruise for the first time back in 2017, and man it was the most awesome experience. We’ve rediscovered our heavy metal tribe.”
As anyone reading this week’s music feature about MEM_MODS might have gathered, Peabody Records, the boutique imprint label founded in 1976 by the late singer/songwriter Sid Selvidge, is once again releasing albums after a decades-long hibernation. Naturally, this revival is being guided by Sid’s son, Steve Selvidge, the guitarist extraordinaire best known for his work with The Hold Steady and, more locally, Sons of Mudboy and Big Ass Truck.
Recently, the Memphis Flyer and the younger Selvidge took a deep dive into the ongoing vinyl revival during a 2022 interview centered on the vagaries of the small label game. Peabody has always been the epitome of the Memphis specialty record company, offering but a few releases that nonetheless had a global impact in their day. In that sense, the humble label that Sid Selvidge launched 47 years ago, with it’s oddball duck logo reinforcing the “Peabody” connection (and echoing the classic Bluebird Records label of the 1930s), is the grandfather of today’s many independent imprints like Goner, Black & Wyatt, Blast Habit, Back to the Light, and others.
“Peabody was always a bespoke, curated label,” says Steve Selvidge. “A ‘we’re not going to worry about what you look like or how many units you’re going to shift’ kind of thing. It was just what piqued my dad’s interest.”
That philosophy led Peabody to release some very unconventional material indeed, most famously Alex Chilton’s trash-rock masterpiece Like Flies on Sherbert. During the label’s ten year heyday on vinyl, other releases included Sid Selvidge’s The Cold Of The Morning, Waiting On A Train, and Live LPs, Crawpatch’s Trailer Park Weekend, Cybill Shepherd’s Vanilla, and Paul Craft Warnings! by — you guessed it — Paul Craft.
And there’s one album that the younger Selvidge is particularly proud of: “Peabody had the first vinyl release of Christopher Idylls by Gimmer Nicholson. Well before Light in the Attic or anyone else put anything out. My understanding was that Terry [Manning] and Gimmer cut that stuff in the ’60s, and it never found a home. So when my dad was up and rolling with Peabody, he was like, ‘Well, I’ve got the machine in place. I’ll put it out.'”
Later, Steve Selvidge-related projects like Big Ass Truck and Secret Service were released on CD, as were reissues of Like Flies on Sherbert. But MEM_MODS Vol. 1 marks the label’s first vinyl product since 1986. And, according to Selvidge, the two projects — the label and the ad hoc band — went hand in hand.
After he’d mixed tracks that he’d recorded during quarantine with Luther Dickinson (North Mississippi Allstars) and Paul Taylor (New Memphis Colorways), Selvidge says “we realized, ‘We’ve got a record!’ And we were very enthusiastic about it. But trying to see who could put it out became an endless conversation that was going nowhere, until I finally said, ‘You know what? I’ll just end this conversation and put it out. I’ll take it from here.'”
Getting back to the nuts and bolts of vinyl production and distribution came naturally. “It turns out, I do know some things,” says Selvidge, “and I’ve got the stuff together. We didn’t spend any money on the recording; we just did it ourselves. And once I had a project to do, that got the ball rolling with Peabody. Before that, I was always like, ‘Man, I should do that.’ Getting started was the hardest part; the inertia was so great. But the enthusiasm for MEM_MODS became a catalyst to get the whole label moving, finally. I was intrigued by the idea of, rather than saying, ‘Hey, I started up the label, here’s my dad’s records!’ saying instead, ‘Hey, we’re coming back with something new.'”
Now that the ball is rolling, or the duck is flying, as the case may be, look for reissues from deep within the Peabody catalog, and what Selvidge calls “other projects that I’ve been putting off.” Given his famously far-flung collaborations, those projects could be very interesting indeed.
Creative thinking is often spurred on by a sudden change: There’s nothing like having the rug pulled out from under you to get you thinking on your feet. And, to hear Steve Selvidge tell it, that’s exactly what happened nearly three years ago when he, Luther Dickinson, and Paul Taylor began work on what’s now the freshly released album, MEM_MODS Vol. 1 (Peabody Records). Of course, that was a time when the whole world was caught off guard, not the least these three musicians who’ve thrived on live performance for decades.
“We were all reeling,” Selvidge recalls. But then a ray of hope appeared. “I got an email from Luther saying, ‘Paul and I have been messing around with some stuff, do you want to put some guitar on it?’ I was like, ‘Yeah, I don’t have anything else to do!’” It was within the first month of the pandemic’s lockdown, so Dickinson and Taylor had not been playing together in person; they’d been swapping tracks over the internet. And that in itself was not unusual for any of them.
“We all had some sort of digital audio workstation of some sort in our homes,” says Selvidge. “And I’d been doing a bunch of remote recording pre-pandemic, anyway. It’s not uncommon for me to do guitar overdubs here in my home studio.” That might even include the odd overdub on a Hold Steady track, he notes. “Mostly last little pickup bits right at the end,” he explains. “But for that last Bash & Pop record [by Tommy Stinson], we cut half of it live at Tommy’s place, and the other half was stuff written after the fact. So I did a lot of my guitars and all of my vocals here at my place on that album.”
Dickinson and Taylor had similar home studios, though Selvidge’s home in Memphis tended to be where it all came together. “After a while, it was easier for me to be the guy running everything in Pro Tools, with everybody sending me files,” Selvidge adds. “And so it kept growing.”
As it turned out, the three began to thrive on the collaboration in unexpected ways. After the first track, says Selvidge, “I was like, ‘We made this! I love it! And it’s something to keep myself occupied.’ So that turned into another track, and then we realized we had kind of a workflow. And we exploded with this creativity. Paul might start with drums, and either Luther or I would add a bass line, creating a song out of raw drums. And I started messing with old drum machines and wrote a tune to that. There were ideas flying everywhere! So much so that we had a brief storage crisis, the music piled up so quickly.”
The result is that rare bird in the indie music world, an instrumental album. While that might be somewhat familiar in the jam band world, MEM_MODS doesn’t really fit that tag. The tracks hit more like a lost ’70s soundtrack, evoking everything from Augustus Pablo-like dub to funk bangers to smoldering Isaac Hayes-like ballads. Tasty, ear-catching synth sounds abound. Indeed, the trio leaned into their multi-instrumental talents, with Dickinson not even contributing his first instrument, guitar. Instead, he played bass and various keyboards; Selvidge played guitar, bass, Rhodes piano, and drum machine; and Taylor contributed drums, percussion, omnichord, bass, fretless bass, washtub bass, synth pedals, and “soundscapes.”
Over these elements sit some of the finest horn parts to come out of Memphis in recent years, courtesy arranger and trumpeter Marc Franklin and saxophonist Art Edmaiston. Ranging from pitch-perfect pads to nimble, jazz influenced fills, the horns (and a flute cameo) pair with warm drums, bass, and guitar to ground the album in an earthy, Memphis vibe.
It makes sense, given how far back the three musicians go, all from famed musical families. “We’ve been making music together for 30 odd years,” says Selvidge. “So everything we’ve done together and apart came to the table when we did this. We know each other’s instincts, even as our lives have changed, getting married, having children. Losing our fathers. There’s a depth there with us. And that depth has gone into our playing.”
Memphis supergroup MEM_MODS are back with their latest funky good time. But this one from the dynamic trio Steve Selvidge, Luther Dickenson, and Paul Taylor is in a little more laid-back vein than the frenzied psychedelia of their earlier singles. “Knotty Pine Kitchen” sounds like a lazy afternoon at Stax, when the band was just messin’ around for fun. Marc Franklin and Art Edmaiston’s pillowy horns round out the sound. The video is a tour of Memphis’ beat-up glory. Happy Monday.
If you’d like to see your music video featured on Music Video Monday, email cmccoy@memphisflyer.com.
Peabody Records was an independent label created by Sid Selvidge, an influential Memphis folk singer and member of the legendary supergroup Mud Boy and the Neutrons. It played a big part in keeping Memphis music alive when things were looking bleak in the 1970s.
Now, Sid’s son Steve Selvidge has resurrected the imprint and is releasing new music. You might know Steve as lead guitarist for The Hold Steady, or as one of the founding members of Memphis funksters Big Ass Truck, or from his extensive solo work. He and some of his oldest friends got together during the pandemic to record some funky new music under the name MEM_MODS. The two compatriots are Luther Dickinson, Selvidge’s fellow Son of Mudboy and the fantastically versatile guitarist of North Mississippi Allstars fame, and prolific multi-instrumentalist Paul Taylor, most recently of New Memphis Colorways.
Since Dickinson has decamped to East Nashville, and Taylor is in rural Wisconsin, the collaboration which became MEM_MODS was done remotely in their home studios. The resulting music is a true Memphis melting pot of styles—funky, spacy, and gritty all at once. The full album won’t drop until February, but the first single “Capricorn Catastrophe” is out with an animated music video by Jake Vest, with contributions from Winston Eggleston. It’s a perfect little psychedelic snack for a Monday.
If you would like to see your music video featured on Music Video Monday, email cmccoy@memphisflyer.com.
Memphis folk-rock stalwart and MVMfrequentflyerMark Edgar Stuart‘s got a new album coming out called Until We Meet Again. “It’s a quasi-concept album about life, love, and afterlife,” he says.
The lead single, “What’s Louder Than Love?” exemplifies the mood of the record, which Stuart calls “Nothing too heavy, and nothing too personal … My past videos have been melancholy, so this time I wanted to come out swinging with something upbeat and light-hearted. I figured after the past two years we’ve had, who wants to hear more sad shit?”
Bassist Landon Moore directed the video. “It was 100 percent his vision,” says Stuart. “All I did was just walk around Midtown and hang out with some of my favorite Memphis people — mostly those who worked on the record like my two producers Reba Russell and Dawn Hopkins, plus musician pals Will Sexton and Shawn Zorn. There’s tons of great cameos too including Keith Sykes, Jerry Phillips, and Matt Ross-Spang … Making this video was an absolute hoot. My favorite scene is Steve Selvidge and Rod Norwood airing out their Facebook rivalry on camera.”
If you’d like to see your music video featured on Music Video Monday, email cmccoy@memphisflyer.com.
“The other night I ate at a real nice family restaurant. Every table had an argument going.” — George Carlin
The term “family values” is bandied about in political discourse a great deal, but what it really means is hard to pin down. While some bemoan the loss of the family life portrayed in Cold War textbooks, a look at the institution at street-level reveals a more complex picture. For many, leaving the family can have a liberating effect, as with countless alienated youths, be they counterculture or LGBTQ, who establish their own “family” of friends. And that’s not just a contemporary phenomenon. Memphis Minnie regularly ran away from the hard scrabble farming life of Walls, Mississippi, to play on Beale Street in the years before World War I, eventually staying gone for good while still in her teens. It all started when they gave her a guitar.
And yet families need not be so oppressive, as so many of us know. Indeed, families are a distinctive feature of this region’s musical heartbeat. The late Herman Green’s father played in W.C. Handy’s band, and his stepfather was a pastor whose church piano further sparked Green’s love of music. Phineas Newborn Sr. led a local orchestra that fostered the storied careers of his sons Calvin and “Junior,” the latter becoming one of the 20th century’s greatest pianists. Al Jackson Sr. fostered the talent of Al Jackson Jr., celebrated worldwide as the pulse behind Stax Records. From that same milieu arose Rufus Thomas, his daughters Carla and Vaneese destined to become celebrated singers, his son Marvell a distinguished soul pianist, composer, and arranger.
Though a full listing of contemporary performers with musical family roots would take a book, we highlight three such artists here whose kin inspired them. Once upon a time, people talked about the “generation gap,” with rock-and-roll marking the hard divide between young and old in the ’50s and ’60s. Now, in the 21st century, it’s all about the Generation Jams.
Meet the Burnsides
True, Cedric Burnside’s latest release, I Be Trying, might be seen as the culmination of his family’s story, grounded in the talent and guidance of his legendary blues-playing grandfather, R.L. Burnside. But Cedric’s latest, perhaps the greatest of his career so far, also represents the confluence of several families. Around here, when families befriend families, you wind up with a lot of kin.
The haunting collection of sparse blues, their unique aesthetic echoing African bluesman Ali Farka Touré at times, was produced by Boo Mitchell, himself the keeper of a family legacy. Willie Mitchell went from success to success as a band leader, then as a producer of megahits for Hi Records; he treated and taught the three musical Hodges brothers like family, and they became the Hi Rhythm Section. Along the way, Willie raised his grandson Boo as his son. “Every night he’d come home, I’d be messing around on the piano, and he’d come lean over my shoulder, those whiskers hitting me, and show me some stuff,” Boo recalls.
Now Boo co-manages Willie Mitchell’s Royal Studios, and working on Burnside’s album took on a uniquely cathartic aspect after Boo’s son fell victim to a vicious gun attack that left the Mitchells wondering if he’d ever walk again. “I didn’t know I Be Trying was going to become the soundtrack to my life,” Boo reflects. “When that thing went down with my son, all I kept hearing were Cedric’s songs. ‘The world can be so cold. …’ It was stuck in my head for a long while. Because he means that stuff. It is not an act.”
Cedric has inherited the gravitas and heartfelt approach to the blues of his grandfather. “I was born into this music,” Cedric says. “It was in my blood when I was birthed into this world. I have a very musical family. My Big Daddy [grandfather] and Big Mama [grandmother] had 13 children. Just about everybody turned to music, to have as their passion.
“My first instruments was the cans and buckets. We’d get done cooking, clean all the grease outta the jug, and I’d use that jug for a drum, you know? And my Big Daddy and my dad would play house parties around, and somehow I just found the courage to step up on the drums when they took a break. Instruments were all around me as a kid.”
Having been raised in his grandparents’ home, long before he mastered guitar, drumming for R.L. Burnside gigs at juke joints was an easy jump for Cedric. “It was fascinating, being that young, knowing I wasn’t supposed to be in the juke joints, me or my Uncle Garry. I was 10, he was 12, and we were in the juke joint! But there was something so special about that. Being kids that young, we’d know that we weren’t supposed to be there, but every grown-up in there welcomed us. They would hide us behind the beer coolers when the police came in because if we left, they didn’t have no band to play music! It was really, really cool, just knowing that you were one of the cool kids, at the juke joint with all grown-ups. It was scary, it was weird, and it would get your adrenaline pumping. You think of any scenario, and we probably went through all of those at that juke joint.”
Nowadays, Cedric is able to pay the tradition forward. “My youngest daughter, Portrika — she just turned 16 — sings on ‘I Be Trying.’ She always loved to sing, which makes me proud. And I’m just trying to feed her all I can give her, you know? While I’m here to do it.”
Direct descendants aside, for Cedric, “family” was never merely the classic nuclear arrangement, but an extended flock, some not even related by blood. Among the latter were Jim and Mary Lindsay Dickinson and sons. “With some musicians I play with, I have been around them for so long that they are like family to me. Like the North Mississippi Allstars. Luther and Cody Dickinson, we’ve been around each other since we were kids. Luther was the big brother of the group, the first one who could drive. That’s 30-plus years we’ve been knowing each other. So they are really like family to me. Even though we wasn’t blood. Just the closeness that we had made us family.” To this day, when Luther makes a cameo on Cedric’s album, you can hear the telepathy between them.
Meet the Selvidges
It turned out the Dickinsons weren’t the only family bonding with local geniuses of the blues and forging whole new family legacies. While Jim Dickinson was an early champion of under-recognized blues musicians of the area, he wasn’t alone. Standing right by his side at those first blues festivals of the ’60s was Sid Selvidge, whose family in Greenville, Mississippi, had not been particularly musical, but who nonetheless made his own way in the musical world of Memphis with the raw talent of his voice and fingers and his deep understanding of the blues and other song forms.
Today, Sid’s son Steve carries the tradition forward, best known as a guitarist in The Hold Steady. He says his early love of the guitar was sparked by his father’s encouragement — albeit with a light touch. “He was absolutely perfect,” recalls Steve. “Because he was not a stage dad. He was just so smart about it. He made everything available but didn’t push it on me or my brother. There was music around a lot, but all he offered was his enthusiasm.”
Showing young Steve a handful of chords was enough to get him started; from there, the son taught himself licks by rock gods like Led Zeppelin while the father looked on, adding only the occasional detail. “The biggest thing he showed me was open-G tuning and how to play ‘Cassie Jones’ and stuff. And while I played, he’d be shouting at me from downstairs, ‘It doesn’t go to the V chord!’ That’s literally something that happened,” laughs Steve.
Perhaps more than the technical niceties, Steve picked up a unique feeling for the blues via his father’s friends, namely the composer of “Cassie Jones” himself, the great Furry Lewis. “I only got fully hip to North Mississippi when Luther started digging deep down in there. My dad knew who R.L. Burnside was, but we hung out with Furry because they were friends. I have lots of memories of going over there and sitting on Furry’s bed and him being really sweet and really cool. And as he got older, the visits fell off a little bit. And I got into other things. I was still in single digits when he died.”
But there were other friends to learn from. As it turned out, Sid Selvidge, Jim Dickinson, Lee Baker, and Jimmy Crosthwait had a little band known as Mud Boy and the Neutrons. They were mostly local heroes but, by forging their own brand of heavy roots rock, have become highly regarded in hindsight. And the band itself was a kind of family. “They were still holdling on to the ethos of the counterculture,” muses Steve. “Even though they were middle-aged men by that point, there was still that ‘don’t trust anyone over 30’ vibe. I remember the smell of marijuana, and it was all very attractive. It was all connected with fun.”
Indeed, for young Steve, the visceral elements of musicianship were as alluring as the actual playing. “I can remember on Sundays, or after the weekend, I would open my dad’s guitar case, and this almost visible plume of aroma would come out, a cigarette smell, basically. Which is not that great, but it was really intoxicating as a kid. I would open it up and you could almost see the vapors, the smell of the bar. I was like, ‘Wow, man!’ I wasn’t even able to put it into words, but it was like, ‘This is a working musician’s instrument. He did something. And now he’s done for the weekend.’ It was like battle scars and it took on its own energy. It was almost like a living thing.”
Today, with Crosthwait the only Mud Boy member still living, Steve, Luther and Cody, and Ben Baker carry on that living thing as Sons of Mudboy, playing their fathers’ classic repertoire at free-ranging gigs that often include an extended family of other players. As he continues playing his father’s songs, Steve’s appreciation for what he achieved only grows. “Later, I got hip to how intricate and deep my dad’s self-accompaniment on guitar was. Originally I was looking for flash and guitar solos and crazy stuff,” Steve recalls, “but later I realized his whole playing and singing by himself was so hard to do. I can remember being in the first grade and being asked what your parents do. I said my dad was a magician. And maybe that was true, after all.”
Meet the Thomases
Steve and Sid Selvidge came to play together, including the time Steve accompanied his father at Carnegie Hall at age 19. Luther and Cody also joined their father Jim starting in their teens, Jim often dubbing the Dickinson family outfit the Hardly Can Playboys. But one local virtuoso didn’t have a chance to do that until very recently. Dywane Thomas Jr. bears the name of his father but mainly admired him from afar as a kid. “My dad, the bassist Dywane Thomas, is my first music hero,” writes the son in an email. To clear up any confusion, the son goes by a different name: You likely know him as MonoNeon, also a bassist, so renowned for his jazz, funk, and soul chops that he even played with Prince in the Purple One’s final days.
“Even though my dad moved to Europe when I was young,” MonoNeon writes, “his influence was just in me (the blues, funk, Southern-soul). Till this day I’m always searching for records my dad played on. I actually found an old vinyl record my dad played bass on with J. Blackfoot, entitled Physical Attraction (1984).”
Searching for records involving his family has been a long-time obsession for the bass wunderkind, for the family ear for music goes beyond his father. “My grandfather, Charles Thomas, a jazz pianist, was a later influence on me. I became aware of who my granddad was musically in my early teens. My granddad played with Ron Carter and Billy Higgins on the album called The Finishing Touch! by the Charles Thomas All Star Trio. I used to listen to those recordings a lot during high school wishing I had a chance to play with my granddad Charles.”
More recently, MonoNeon has taken to celebrating his grandmother Liz as well. It’s most obvious in the song “Grandma’s House,” on his 2021 album Supermane, a Funkadelic-tinged celebration of piling into the car to visit his grandmother and eat her fine cooking. “I’ve always just wanted to play some music with Grandma Liz,” he reflects. “I used to go to choir rehearsal with her with my bass and play. The whole thang with me and my grandma jammin’ together started when my mom brought her over to come hang and I told my grandma, ‘Let’s do a quick jam thang’ on a song she use to sing in church, ‘Oh, When I Come to the End of My Journey.’ Since I’ve started singing more, I’ve noticed I kinda sound like my grandma. My early gospel influence comes from going to the Baptist church with my grandma and aunties. Now I’ve just taken all those influences and made it neon I guess.”
As MonoNeon has become more celebrated, he seems to value family more than ever in his work, and recently he too was able to accomplish what the Selvidges and the Dickinsons did: create music with his father, keeping the cycle of family influences ebbing and flowing — “a living thing,” in the words of Steve Selvidge. As MonoNeon relates, “Me and my dad had a chance to record and jam recently at Niko Lyras’ Cotton Row Studio, with Steve Potts on drums. That was a dream I had to bring to realization in some way.”
Cedric Burnside plays an album release party, featuring Luther Dickinson, at B.B. King’s Blues Club, Wednesday, August 25th, 7 p.m. $20. He plays the 2021 Memphis Country Blues Festival at the Levitt Shell Thursday, October 7th, 7 p.m. $35.
Steve Selvidge plays with Big Ass Truck at the Levitt Shell, Saturday, September 11th, 7 p.m. Free.
MonoNeon plays Railgarten, Wednesday, September 1st, 8 p.m. $10.
Ah, to settle into these idyllic fall days, with Led Zeppelin ringing in the air. October 5th marked the 50th anniversary of the release of Led Zeppelin III, mixed and mastered at Ardent Recordings, prompting many to reminisce about the impact of the album and the band on the Bluff City. Many a muso has dusted off an old copy with the spinning-wheel cartoon cover sleeve, so at odds with the album’s very autumnal mood, all bracing shrieks and riffs and crackling acoustics ’round the fire.
Terry Manning was the engineer for some of the album’s overdubs, and all its mixing and mastering, and when we spoke, he shared too many memories to fit in one article. Most of the tale can be read in Memphis magazine’s November cover story, taking you all the way from the Yardbirds in Kentucky to Jimmy Page having Manning inscribe messages onto the vinyl’s inner groove. But space did not allow for one bit of our conversation, concerning the interest in Led Zeppelin expressed by one Chris Bell. The founder of Big Star was himself a great fan, even known to spontaneously break out into the entire guitar solo of their song “Heartbreaker” (as described in Rich Tupica’s Bell bio, There was a Light).
When I spoke to Manning about mixing the album and the band playing in Memphis, he brought up Chris Bell:
Memphis Flyer:Did it create quite a stir around town, the fact that Jimmy Page was in town?
Terry Manning: You’d think it would create a stir like that, but it didn’t really. Jimmy wanted it kept quiet and we had work to do. There wasn’t any partying and meeting people and things. John Fry was not even there. He didn’t come for the session in any way. He stayed out. Once we were there, I locked the door and other people didn’t come in. It was very under the table. Kept quiet. courtesy Terry Manning
Terry Manning at the Ardent mixing board, 1971
Now, Chris Bell did know about it, and I think he came in for a second once. But I know later, when they were on tour, and Zeppelin played in Memphis, Chris came over to my house. Because Jimmy and his then-girlfriend Charlotte came to my house for dinner after the Led Zeppelin concert. And I’d had an Indian meal catered by an Indian restaurant, which you couldn’t get in the U.S. on tour very much then. So I’d told Chris to stay away, but he couldn’t help it. He came by sheepishly, with a bottle of wine. So we let him in, and Jimmy and Chris and I hung out. We listened to Gimmer Nicholson all night. And Ali Akbar Khan.
Josh Reynolds
Terry Manning
I told him, do not come. And this was after the concert, not during the recordings. But he just couldn’t help it. And I can’t blame him. Of course not! Now, years later, I’m so glad he did. It’s a wonderful memory, to be thinking of, two o’clock in the morning, Jimmy Page, Chris Bell, and me sitting on the floor, listening to Ali Akbar Khan and Gimmer Nicholson. Acoustic and Indian music, mostly.
Another renowned Memphis guitarist, a generation or so removed from Chris Bell, also noted his connection to Led Zeppelin III last month. On October 5th, guitarist Steve Selvidge (The Hold Steady, Big Ass Truck) celebrated his wedding anniversary with an online post and noted they had married on “the 32nd anniversary of the release of Led Zeppelin III.” An auspicious day, indeed, and it prompted Selvidge to recall the profound effect the band (and guitarist Jimmy Page) had on his musicianship.
And the very different effect they had on his father, the late Sid Selvidge. Rich Tarbell
Steve Selvidge
Memphis Flyer: Do you still have your old copy of the album?
Steve Selvidge: If you’re talking about Led Zeppelin III, that’s a piece of vinyl that I purchased when I was young. I think it was in fifth grade when it first seeped deep into me. I had just started playing guitar. Certainly by sixth grade, I was definitely way into it. I remember a friend’s older brother had The Song Remains the Same [the live soundtrack album of the film of the same name], and I remember playing that. Someone once said, “Zeppelin is nothing if not older brother rock.” I had lost my copy of Led Zeppelin III for years, but my brother was moving and found it. I bought it at Pop Tunes. Talk about the opposite of 180 gram vinyl pressing, this was just the floppiest disc. It did have the sleeve with the spinning wheel! And it had the Crowley quote, too [inscribed on the vinyl].
Do you think it holds up?
I’ve read all the press. I can almost see the words on the page, I’ve read it so many times. And I think they were unjustly criticized at the time, Oh yeah, Crosby Stills & Nash and Joni Mitchell had hits, so they jumped on that bandwagon. And Jimmy Page was like, ‘This acoustic music’s on all of our records. It’s not like we picked up acoustic guitars out of nowhere.’ I mean, ‘Ramble On,’ man! But the first two were released at the beginning and end of 1969. They’re companion pieces. One was born out of Jimmy Page’s initial plan, and one was born out of the road. But I do agree that III was where Plant was able to emerge more fully formed. And honestly I think that’s also when he had more of a sense of job security.
Because, from what I’ve read, even through the second record and touring, it was like, this is Jimmy’s band. Peter Grant’s laying down the law, like, ‘Dude, don’t think you can get comfortable.’ But with III, Robert started to assume this thing of the front man. The center piece, the Golden God. It was a crazy time. That was back when a guitar player could be famous just for being a guitar player. Not just famous, but people who weren’t musicians knew who he was, because they’d tracked his progress in the Yardbirds. It was this burgeoning underground scene. So there were people who knew Led Zeppelin because of Jimmy Page. But then Robert transitioned into that pop consciousness. And it was years, for me, before I realized that the average person takes a band on its front man. I was like, ‘Wait, there are people who know Led Zeppelin and don’t know who Jimmy Page is? Every guitarist in every band is just as important as the singer, right??’ It turns out I was mistaken about that..
And this is speaking to my middle-aged-ness, but I think that’s probably their best nighttime record. With technology these days, streaming music is daytime whatever, just put on something that’s rockin,’ get the dishes done. But for me, vinyl is the nighttime thing. It’s the kids have gone to bed, decompressing and talking about the events of the day, and what are we gonna put on? Zeppelin III is good cranked up, and it’s also good at low volumes.
‘Friends’ was the first time they used a tuning not based on British whatever folk traditions. It was more of a nod to Indian music. And Page was really into Indian music well before the Beatles were. He tells the story of going to hear Indian music and it was him and a bunch of old people. He was the only young person there. So, ‘Friends’ is a big one in terms of that.
The vocal on ‘That’s the Way’ is so gorgeous. As a lifelong Page disciple, as I get older, I get more and more fascinated by Robert Plant. Some say that his wail on ‘Since I’ve Been Loving You’ is when he started to lose his voice. His voice changed radically, because they toured so much. He didn’t have a vocal coach. He was just smoking and drinking and shouting. So by ’72 his voice had changed. And some say that shriek on ‘Since I’ve Been Loving You’ is the swan song, if you will.
It took me a long time to come to terms with that recorded version of ‘Since I’ve Been Loving You.’ ’Cause I was such a disciple of the movie, the Song Remains the Same, and that version of the song from ’73 at Madison Square Garden, I just loved it so much. It’s super stoney. For whatever reason, John Paul Jones didn’t have a [Hammond] B3 [organ] with him. On the ’73 tour, it was all Fender Rhodes [electric piano] with foot pedals. You know, the B3 is like, I’m gonna put you in a specific place right now. And for the longest time, I didn’t want to hear it. Because I was so in love with the Rhodes and the stoney vibe of Madison Square Garden. But now I’ve come to respect it for what it is.
And the guitar solo on that [album version]. That song is one of Zeppelin’s greatest moments. Plant will tell you that. That guitar solo is one of Page’s greatest moments for sure. And that’s what brought me back to that version. It’s the perfect mixture of his technique, which also changed, and his emotion. Of all the big three guitarists in his class, he wrought the most emotion. And that is right there.
Did Lee Baker ever talk about Led Zeppelin?
I probably brought it up some. I knew that Lee Baker played a Sunburst Les Paul from the ’50s. A 1958-60 Les Paul Sun Standard … the significance of it. That’s what Jimmy Page was playing, and Lee Baker had the same kind of guitar. And it was rare. I know he knew Page was bad, but he was into other things.
Justin Fox Burks
The late Sid Selvidge, with son, Steve
Your dad, Sid Selvidge, was a pioneering performer of the blues, among other things. Did you listen to Zeppelin with him?
I played a lot of Led Zeppelin at my house when I was a kid. And my dad happened to be a pretty proficient singer in his own right, with pretty strong opinions about other singers. And he did not like Robert Plant at all! His thing was, ‘I know he can sing! I’ve heard him, he can sing! He just does all that puke music, man!’ That’s what he called it, ‘Puke Music.’ Like he’s straining so hard he’s gonna puke, you know?
But the final nail in the coffin was when it got to the last song, ‘Hat’s Off to (Roy) Harper,’ which is just Fred McDowell, ‘Shake ’Em On Down.’ And man, would that make him mad! He was just like, ‘This British motherf*cker!’ He was just mad about it, man! I remember him specifically zeroing in on it. I remember exactly where I was sitting, in front of the turntable, looking at this old decorative lamp. And he was just so pissed off at the way they were interpreting Fred McDowell. ‘Lee Baker could just smoke this kid!’ They were just defiling Mississippi Fred McDowell. I think it was the histrionics of Robert Plant that really did that. That’s just how he sings.
I will say, Robert Plant’s voice did change. And I kinda liked it, because, as a connoisseur of bootleg recordings, he had the power, and he wasn’t always judicial with it. So there’s a lot of him going over the top, screaming, getting super high, and wailing and stuff. That’s why, for me, ’73 is the peak year. His voice has changed, and he can’t just go high all the time. So it forced him to get creative with the melodies, and kind of lay his shit back a little bit. Which I like. ’Cause I do like it when he croons. And Jimmy Page’s tone was at its apex, and his playing had changed. He laid off some of his go-to things, and was stretching out a little bit more. Then by ’75 it just all goes to shit, in my opinion. But Plant’s another polarizing one. I don’t know, I’ll sit through a lot of bad singers to hear the guitar that I want.
Robby Grant and Steve Selvidge rock Railgartenwith Big Ass Truck
You were out of pocket on Labor Day, so we’re doing Music Video Monday on Tuesday.
In the 1990s, Big Ass Truck was the hottest ticket in Memphis. Formed by Steve Selvidge, Robby Grant, and Alex Greene (who is the current music editor for the Memphis Flyer) with the goal of being the post-modern MGs, they were one of the first bands anywhere to incorporate turntablism in a rock band setting, courtesy of DJ Colin Butler.
After touring relentlessly for the better part of the decade, the band went on hiatus in 2001. Nowadays, Grant is instrumental in the Mellotron Variations and Selvidge is the lead guitarist in, among other bands, The Hold Steady. Big Ass Truck has been periodically reforming for one-offs and short tours, like they did last winter at Railgarten. Director and producer Cole Early was on hand with his camera crew to capture the stone cold groove.
This Saturday, September 7th, Big Ass Truck will open for The Hold Steady at The Basement in Nashville, and once again, it’s the hottest ticket in town. Courtesy of Early, here’s a little taste of what the folks paying top dollar for that show will see.