download | soundcloud | mixcloud
1. Sammy Davis Jr. – Not For Me
2. Dick Baker – Heartless Lover
3. Dee Edwards – You Say You Love Me
4. James Darren – Punch & Judy
5. Jimmy Gilford – Nobody Loves Me Like My Baby
6. Rosco Gordon – Sit Right Here
7. The Martinis – Hung Over
8. Ray Medina – Dr. Felix
9. Bettye LaVette – You’ll Never Change
10. Roy Hamilton – The Panic Is On
How LA feels to me.
Be a nice girl, kiss the warders..
Bobby Bland was bigger than everything. I would certainly not be as I am without him, which is but a teardrop in the great wake he left in the world. His “Two Steps To The Blues” was the record I listened to when my mother was diagnosed with Cancer. It’s not a joke and it’s not cute, it’s the depths of human experience in a Bobby Bland record.
You hear everything in his songs with Joe Scott. He represented an otherworldly elegance and delivery that existed outside of the white mainstream, untamable and untappable and perhaps a bit confounding to the white counterculture. He wasn’t (really) a screamer, nor a kneedropper, or a black pop artist or a countryfied bluesman. He wasn’t a voodoo man or jive showman. Bobby was a king.
An old friend of mine said, “if you were ever in a black household between the 60s and the 90s, you were 99% sure you were gonna hear Bobby Bland.” He never crossed over and he didn’t need to.
The black Sinatra, my Sinatra, Bobby “Blue” Bland.
Jan 27 1930 – June 23, 2013
The Sonics, 1965
London has been unkind in the past; illness, weak promotion, weird clubs, poor publicity.. please help me change this – 3rd time would be such a charm.. I’ve got such a warm spot in my heart for it no matter how cold it can be. I don’t mind if I’m out of fashion… I just want somebody to come out and actually feel something, come without framework, without expectations.
To get me booked, they tell someone one thing – ‘oh, he’s a Soul singer’, and then someone writes something, and someone else writes something. And then someone goes out of their way NOT to write about you, to make a point. And then you get a bunch of folks standing around judging you on the rubric of a hundred historic peaks. And the senders of many PR packets and the keepers of many gates put together a narrative that may just have very little to do with the spirit of it all. And they don’t care, nor do they mind, because it’s all a lovely game in which they are playing poker with toothpicks on a cell block. And if the games go well, cash those in for money or cigarettes or maybe sexual favors. If not, it’s just toothpicks, isn’t it? Tomorrow’s game will be more interesting. There is nothing but days ahead on the cellblock.
What would happen if you just came, London, or Utrecht, or Chicago, or Hamburg, or Paris, and you knew something was going to happen, but you never came watching for the Redding-Brown-Cooke-James-Gaye-Withers-Winehouse moment to come.. and what if you just got knocked out by one minute of something you never heard before? I mean, what if you never listened for an echo of in anything? Doesn’t everyone understand that’s the moment? Don’t you understand, like light bending through glass that suddenly, when it moves, it gives you a whole other spectrum, even if it peeled off of the same light thrown on everything?