t-bone

Dr. T-Bone's take on the conference

The 1998 conference continued the previous years' focus on an individual
who embodied and simultaneously transcended a traditional musical form, in
this case the country blues. Titled Hellhound On My Trail: Robert Johnson
and the Blues, the conference capped a week of blues-related activities at
the Rock Hall, including an evening with Johnson's stepson, "Robert Junior"
Lockwood and his traveling companion David "Honeyboy" Edwards. There was
also an exhibition of the art of folk painter George Hunt titled "Blues on
Canvas." Robert Guralnick was the keynote speaker for the Saturday
sessions. He spoke eloquently about the surprise of genuine art when it
appears no matter what the context. He did this, however, with hardly a
mention of Johnson, his music, or his socio-economic context. But since
most of the audience's written introduction to Johnson was Guralnick's
Searching for Robert Johnson, he didn't need to prove his knowledge base.
His genuine admiration for Johnson came through, despite his habit of
constantly referring to literary figures--Melville, Camus, E. M. Forster.
etc.
The session panels were not up to the standards of previous years.
Folklorist Barry Lee Pearson, whose scholarship has been based primarily on
extensive interviews with blues practitioners, had the most insightful and
nuanced things to say in the panel on Johnson's myth, much of which bogged
down over the faustian motif in the musician's biography. Edward Komara,
the director of the music library at the University of Mississippi,
provided the best musicological insights of the day simply by playing tapes
of piano blues and leading the audience through a convincing demonstration
that the secret of Johnson's guitar genius was that he moved blues piano
techniques onto the guitar. David Sanjek, the director of BMI's archives,
displayed the most encyclopedic knowledge of American music and music history.
But some of the panelists took their tasks lightly in 1998. Atwood Gaines
of Case Western gave what was obviously a warmed-over college lecture on
Native American influences on American culture, when his panel assignment
was to discuss Native American influences on the blues. He didn't bother.
Likewise, Regennia Williams gave a rhetorically flashy talk that turned out
to involve no content. The worst panelist by far was Tony Scherman of the
New York Times, who was so out of his element he had to ask for an
explanation of the term 'juke joint.' One panel that would have been very
interesting never materialized. Steve Lavere, who owns the rights to
Johnson's songs, declined to join a panel on estate and copyright issues
surrounding Johnson. That he attended the conference as a silent presence
at the back of the session halls speaks volumes about this minefield of a
topic.
There was a showing of some film footage that was rumored to depict
Johnson playing the guitar on a Mississippi street in the late thirties.
Evidence from a movie poster in the background placed it three years after
Johnson's death, but it was fascinating, if only for its views of daily
black life in the Delta. And it was satisfying to see a valuable exercise
in actual blues scholarship happen live as the conference was taking place.
The Saturday night jam at the Odeon matched the previous years' shows in
every respect. The artists made it crystal clear how important Johnson's
influence is on guitarists of a great variety of styles. Highlights were
Philadelphia native G. Love, guitar wizard Peter Green, and Chris Whitley,
whose album Dirt Floor is a love letter to Johnson and Son House without
slavishly copying either. Love did an impromptu piece located somewhere
between a rap and a talking blues that commented on the conference itself
and the irony of all the scholars and middle-class fans assembled to
celebrate an itinerant drifter. On Sunday afternoon a film titled "Can't
You Hear the Wind Howl" was premiered at the Rock Hall. Narrated by Danny
Glover and starring Keb' Mo', the film was an affecting documentary on
Johnson's life and music. Filmmaker Peter Meyer was in attendance to
answer questions after the screening. [The film, which is suitable for
classroom use, is distributed by Sweet Home Pictures.]
The evening concert at Severance Hall emphasized the guitar side more than
the lyrical side of Johnson's legacy. Taj Mahal and John Hammond, Jr.
represented the urban folk revival era, and Keb' Mo' and Joe Louis Walker
the contemporary blues scene. But the rock musicians carried the evening.
Bob Weir and Rob Wasserman forged a Grateful Dead blues/country
rock/psychedelic set that had all the otherworldliness of Robert Johnson's
most mysterious songs. And the Allman Brothers finished off the concert by
demonstrating both their debt to and mastery of the blues with a flawless
set of their own hits mixed with such genre standards as "One Way Out" and
"Statesboro Blues." Their slow rendition of their familar hit "Melissa" was
especially breathtaking. The evening closed with a full stage jam session
that was more of an Allman Brothers Greatest Hits session than a tribute to
Robert Johnson. Good though!

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

At this writing the conference planners have not made the final decision on
the subject for 1999. Some possibilities are Hank Williams, Louis
Armstrong, Bessie Smith, and the Carter Family. Any of these are fitting
topics and would continue the excellent beginning the American Music
Masters series has made. A few suggestions to the planners include--(1)
invite more trained musicologists and fieldworking folklorists to
participate in the sessions; (2) expand the publisher's and record
company's displays so that attendees who are new to the subject have access
to the basic bibliographic and discographic works of the featured artists;
(3) let the musicians join the academic sessions so their views are less
segregated from the lively conversations they generate. These are small
quibbles. It is hard to find much wrong with this rich and vital series.
The American Music Masters series deserves a long and prosperous life. It
brings attention to an area of American culture that warrants as much
celebration and study as we can give it. Robert Santelli and his
co-planners have earned the gratitude of anyone who cares about American
folk and popular music.

- Tom Barden


		Dr. T-Bone's take on the conference

The 1998 conference continued the previous years' focus on an individual who embodied and simultaneously transcended a traditional musical form, in this case the country blues. Titled Hellhound On My Trail: Robert Johnson and the Blues, the conference capped a week of blues-related activities at the Rock Hall, including an evening with Johnson's stepson, "Robert Junior" Lockwood and his traveling companion David "Honeyboy" Edwards. There was also an exhibition of the art of folk painter George Hunt titled "Blues on Canvas." Robert Guralnick was the keynote speaker for the Saturday sessions. He spoke eloquently about the surprise of genuine art when it appears no matter what the context. He did this, however, with hardly a mention of Johnson, his music, or his socio-economic context. But since most of the audience's written introduction to Johnson was Guralnick's Searching for Robert Johnson, he didn't need to prove his knowledge base. His genuine admiration for Johnson came through, despite his habit of constantly referring to literary figures--Melville, Camus, E. M. Forster. etc. The session panels were not up to the standards of previous years. Folklorist Barry Lee Pearson, whose scholarship has been based primarily on extensive interviews with blues practitioners, had the most insightful and nuanced things to say in the panel on Johnson's myth, much of which bogged down over the faustian motif in the musician's biography. Edward Komara, the director of the music library at the University of Mississippi, provided the best musicological insights of the day simply by playing tapes of piano blues and leading the audience through a convincing demonstration that the secret of Johnson's guitar genius was that he moved blues piano techniques onto the guitar. David Sanjek, the director of BMI's archives, displayed the most encyclopedic knowledge of American music and music history. But some of the panelists took their tasks lightly in 1998. Atwood Gaines of Case Western gave what was obviously a warmed-over college lecture on Native American influences on American culture, when his panel assignment was to discuss Native American influences on the blues. He didn't bother. Likewise, Regennia Williams gave a rhetorically flashy talk that turned out to involve no content. The worst panelist by far was Tony Scherman of the New York Times, who was so out of his element he had to ask for an explanation of the term 'juke joint.' One panel that would have been very interesting never materialized. Steve Lavere, who owns the rights to Johnson's songs, declined to join a panel on estate and copyright issues surrounding Johnson. That he attended the conference as a silent presence at the back of the session halls speaks volumes about this minefield of a topic. There was a showing of some film footage that was rumored to depict Johnson playing the guitar on a Mississippi street in the late thirties. Evidence from a movie poster in the background placed it three years after Johnson's death, but it was fascinating, if only for its views of daily black life in the Delta. And it was satisfying to see a valuable exercise in actual blues scholarship happen live as the conference was taking place. The Saturday night jam at the Odeon matched the previous years' shows in every respect. The artists made it crystal clear how important Johnson's influence is on guitarists of a great variety of styles. Highlights were Philadelphia native G. Love, guitar wizard Peter Green, and Chris Whitley, whose album Dirt Floor is a love letter to Johnson and Son House without slavishly copying either. Love did an impromptu piece located somewhere between a rap and a talking blues that commented on the conference itself and the irony of all the scholars and middle-class fans assembled to celebrate an itinerant drifter. On Sunday afternoon a film titled "Can't You Hear the Wind Howl" was premiered at the Rock Hall. Narrated by Danny Glover and starring Keb' Mo', the film was an affecting documentary on Johnson's life and music. Filmmaker Peter Meyer was in attendance to answer questions after the screening. [The film, which is suitable for classroom use, is distributed by Sweet Home Pictures.] The evening concert at Severance Hall emphasized the guitar side more than the lyrical side of Johnson's legacy. Taj Mahal and John Hammond, Jr. represented the urban folk revival era, and Keb' Mo' and Joe Louis Walker the contemporary blues scene. But the rock musicians carried the evening. Bob Weir and Rob Wasserman forged a Grateful Dead blues/country rock/psychedelic set that had all the otherworldliness of Robert Johnson's most mysterious songs. And the Allman Brothers finished off the concert by demonstrating both their debt to and mastery of the blues with a flawless set of their own hits mixed with such genre standards as "One Way Out" and "Statesboro Blues." Their slow rendition of their familar hit "Melissa" was especially breathtaking. The evening closed with a full stage jam session that was more of an Allman Brothers Greatest Hits session than a tribute to Robert Johnson. Good though! * * * * * * * * * * * * * At this writing the conference planners have not made the final decision on the subject for 1999. Some possibilities are Hank Williams, Louis Armstrong, Bessie Smith, and the Carter Family. Any of these are fitting topics and would continue the excellent beginning the American Music Masters series has made. A few suggestions to the planners include--(1) invite more trained musicologists and fieldworking folklorists to participate in the sessions; (2) expand the publisher's and record company's displays so that attendees who are new to the subject have access to the basic bibliographic and discographic works of the featured artists; (3) let the musicians join the academic sessions so their views are less segregated from the lively conversations they generate. These are small quibbles. It is hard to find much wrong with this rich and vital series. The American Music Masters series deserves a long and prosperous life. It brings attention to an area of American culture that warrants as much celebration and study as we can give it. Robert Santelli and his co-planners have earned the gratitude of anyone who cares about American folk and popular music.

	- Tom Barden