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Concert
Review by Nick Morgan |
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MISSISSIPPI DELTA BLUES & HERITAGE FESTIVAL
Greenville, Mississippi, September 16th 2006 |
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| Welcome
to Greenville,
Mississippi. In case you’ve forgotten it’s
famous as the place where the levee burst in 1927,
leading to the devastating flood of the Delta region,
commemorated in song by Charley
Patton (amongst others) in his ‘High water
everywhere’. Charley, arguably the most influential
of the Delta bluesmen, still lives close by in the
corner of a largely forgotten cemetery, if you’re
prepared to take the time to look. But otherwise
Greenville is a largely forgotten place, apart from,
that is, its three ‘riverboat’ casinos
(only two of which have reopened following last
year’s storms), questionable vehicles of economic
regeneration. The broad boulevards of the semi-derelict
downtown area are dusty and desolate – lined
with long-time-closed shops and failed businesses
– beyond are impoverished neighbourhoods leading
up to Highway 61, at the North end bordered by the
famous Nelson Street (celebrated by the late Little
Milton in ‘Annie Mae’s café’).
The guidebooks say “take care – this
is a rough part of town”. We dine at Nelson
Street’s Doe’s Eat House. There’s
an armed guard outside. Welcome to Greenville. |
| We’re
here for the Mississippi
Delta Blues and Heritage Festival,
a sort of week long jumbler of events that ends
up with a ten hour ‘blues’ festival
in a former cotton field just outside the town (apparently
it’s an “historic” field, but
I’m not sure why). It’s another Mississippi
Delta day, and, excuse my French, it’s fucking
hot. And unlike the smart locals we haven’t
got awnings or gazebos to erect (behind the yellow
tape of course), or fishing chairs to sit in (yes
– they have them here too), and our New Orleans
hats and quickly acquired ten dollar brollies (the
ten dollar brolly man cashed up and left for a short
break in Europe half way through the afternoon)
offered little by way of real shade as the temperature
soared. |
|
The
Reverend Joe Washington and the Gabriel Tones |
| We
arrived early, anxious to catch veteran Delta bluesmen
Eddie
Cusic and T-Model
Ford, who are preceded on stage by
“the gospel band”, who turn out to be
the Reverend Joe Washington and the Gabriel Tones.
“Are there any church folk out there, are
there any church folk out there?”. Well, judging
by the bewildering number of churches we’ve
passed on the road there must have been, but no
one seems to want to ‘fess up, as the Reverend
works up quite lather on the small stage. Actually
it’s a relatively simple affair, nothing as
sophisticated as even a small free festival in London
– the stage is open and offers just a little
shade from the sun, the sound system’s old
fashioned, the mixing desk just sits on an old table
next to us in the middle of the field. |
 |
The
crowd is fairly sparse at first, but the field fills
up as the afternoon wears on and the sun starts
to go down. There are smoked sausages, barbecued
ribs, hot hog’s maw tamales (they’re
red hot!) and other similar delicacies on sale –
oh yes, and the life saving lemonade and bags of
ice – did I mention the big dogs? The audience
is largely black and largely grey haired. There
are several big family parties for whom this event,
now in its 29th year, acts as an annual homecoming
– some are even wearing the t-shirts. And
there’s a lot of pride in the fact that people
have come from all over the continent to be here
– “Any folks in the house from Oklahoma?”
It’s during one of these frequent roll calls
that the photographer is moved to break cover, waving
her arms hysterically when boogie pianist Jerry
Kattawar drawled "Is there anyone
in the house from England?”. “Ya’ll
come here all the way from England?” asks
one of our neighbours, incredulous, and ready to
hand out first-aid chilled beers from his capacious
ice-box. |
| Soon
they’re running a book on how long we’ll
stand the heat – “yo’ ever git
this hot in London?” asks one anxious punter
as he calculates his wager. |
|
Eddie
Cusic, T-Model Ford and Jerry Kattawar on the
Juke Joint stage (right) |
| Both
Cusic and Ford disappoint. They play out the stereotype
of the old bluesman, but Cusic is barely in tune
(I mean you don’t have to try and sound like
a wax field recording made seventy years ago) and
T-Model Ford, who impressed in front of an indifferent
audience in London’s Barbican eighteen months
ago, is, well, let’s say ‘emotional’.
“It’s Jack Daniels time, yo’ just
‘scuse me while I take my medicine”.
It seemed to be “Jack Daniels time”
between each song (actually it was Canadian Club
that I saw him clutching onto later in the afternoon,
as he was helped off the Juke Stage, barely fit
to play), which at least gave his bass player and
drummer (his grandson who could hardly see above
the cymbals) a few minutes to try and guess what
song was coming next. Not great – but have
a listen to his album, Pee Wee get my Gun, and you’ll
have an idea what it could have been. The audience
were polite but subdued – too hot to heckle,
regarding this is almost as a penance they had to
suffer before the fun started. That was with Mike
and Jerry Kattawar’s crowd-pleasing boogie,
with Jerry at the piano improvising salacious lyrics
inspired by women in the crowd. |
| It
seemed to go down very well, as did the Delta Blues
Review. This is a massive assembly of largely local
artistes featuring feisty pianist and singer Eden
Brent, guitarist John Horton with his
Albert King Flying V guitar (put to good use on
‘Born under a bad sign’), brassy blues
diva Barbara Looney, the soulful vocalist Ricky
Johnson, former Bobby Rush guitarist Mickey Rogers,
and inimitable blues shouter, Mississippi
Slim. With his multi-coloured hair,
odd shoes and purple suit (with cape) he hollered
and howled hysterically and did more to enliven
the audience than anyone before him. And I think
he must be older than my mum (and that’s old
– sorry mum). |
 |
Big
Bill Morganfield and his band must
have come onto the stage around 4.30, and although
the sun was getting lower the heat was still unremitting.
As blues fans might have guessed, Big Bill is the
son of Mackinley Morganfield, aka Muddy Waters.
He’s released several CDs, tours most of the
year, won a W C Handy award a few years ago as ‘Best
New Blues Artist’ (fantastic – he’s
about the same age as me), and is an all round ambassador
for the blues and the work and memory of his father.
But though he is a big man with a very good band
he somehow fails to make much of an impact –
maybe he was suffering from the heat too –
and the strength of some of his material (“here’s
a little song I wrote, it’s called ‘Hoochie
Coochie girl’”) was suspect. But Serge,
by that time it was too late. The shivering and
dizziness that signify the onset of heat exhaustion
were setting in, and despite the pleas of some of
our gambling companions (“Oh no man, please,
just ten more minutes”) we made a run for
it – it was about 5.30, and 98 degrees. So
I’m sad to report we missed crooning soulman
Mel Waiters,
the lascivious veteran Denise Lasalle, local boy
turned Nashville hero Steve
Azar (he had the biggest tour bus back stage),
1970’s chart-toppers the
Manhattans, and saddest of all, the baddest
man in blues, Whiskyfun’s favourite bawdy
bluesman, Bobby
Rush, whom I know would have been on fire in
front of this crowd (and someone we ran into later
told us he was). So as you can see not even really
a big blues line-up – more I think a soulful
homecoming than blues heritage. |
|
Later, after a suitably air-conditioned cool couple
of hours in a motel room we emerged for a late supper
at the Shotgun Shack, where we enjoyed ice cold
Buds and more Creole cuisine, to the gentle sound
of a drum machine and a guitarist-singer with a
late night radio voice (“Hi there folks, here’s
one you may remember from back in the sixties, it’s
that Cajun classic from Creedence Clearwater Revival…”).
“You know”, he told us, “I should
have started doing this years ago. I used to play
when I was in the air force. Playing the guitar
and singing helped the stress, it stopped me from
killing people …”. Welcome to Greenville.
- Nick Morgan (photographs by Kate) |
Check
the index of all reviews:
Nick's Concert Reviews
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