King Alfred Press

Home » Posts tagged 'rock music'

Tag Archives: rock music

FATS DOMINO

07-fats_circa1970-mezz

This week for our cultural article, we will be celebrating the life of Fats Domino: the legendary New Orleans rock ‘n’ roller who died last Tuesday at the age of eighty-nine.

Fats Domino was born Antoine Dominique Domino, Jr. on February 26th, 1928, in New Orleans, Louisiana. He was the youngest of Antoine Caliste Domino’s (1879 – 1964) and Marie-Donatille Gros’ (1886 – 1971) eight children. and introduced him to New Orleans’ music scene, which would be a major influence on his later music. Fats’ came from a musical family. At seven-years-old, he was taught to play the piano by his brother-in-law, Harrison Verret (1907 – 1965). Additionally, Verret also introduced Fats to the New Orleans’ music scene, which would become a major influence on his later music.

By the age of ten, Fats was performing as a singer and a pianist. Four years later, he dropped out of school completely to pursue a career in music. To support himself during this time, Fats took on odd jobs – factory work, hauling ice, and so forth. By 1946, Fats had begun playing leading piano with the well-known New Orleans bass player and bandleader, Billy Diamond (1916 – 2011). It was Diamond who gave Domino the nickname, “Fats”. Years later, Diamond would reminisce:

“I knew Fats from hanging out at a grocery store. He reminded me of Fats Waller and Fats Pichon. Those guys were big names and Antoine—that’s what everybody called him then—had just got married and gained weight. I started calling him ‘Fats’ and it stuck.”

Diamond’s audiences were impressed by Fat’s rare talents and by the end of the 1940s the New Orleans’ pianist had attracted a very substantial following. As a musician, Fats was versed in numerous musical styles – blues, boogie-woogie, ragtime – and had drawn inspiration from pianists like Meade Lux Lewis (1895 – 1964) and singers like Louis Jordan (1908 – 1975).

In 1949, Fats met his long-term collaborator, Dave Bartholomew (1920 – ). Around the same time, Fats signed a record contract with Imperial Records. Fats’ first song with the label, The Fat Man (a play on his own nickname), would sell a million copies and reach number two on the Rhythm and Blues Charts.

Fats stood out as a performer due to the combination of his baritone voice, unique piano-playing style, the saxophone rifts of Herbert Hardesty (1925 – 2016), and the drum after-beats of Earl Palmer (1924 – 2008). The release of Ain’t That A Shame in 1955 exposed Fats to the mainstream public and helped make him the most popular African American rock ‘n’ roll artist. His upward trajectory continued with two film performances in 1956: Shake, Rattle and Rock, and the Girl Can’t Help It, and the recording of five top-forty hits, including, My Blue Heaven, and Blueberry Hill (which reached number two).

By the early 1960s, however, Fats music had lost much of its original popularity. In 1963, he moved to ABC-Paramount Records and parted ways with his long-time collaborator, Dave Bartholomew. The arrangement would be short lived with Fats parting ways with ABC-Paramount, returning to New Orleans, and rekindling his professional relationship with Dave Bartholomew in 1965.

Fats and Bartholomew would collaborate until 1970, culminating in the 1968 cover of The Beatles’ Lady Madonna (ironically, a tribute to Fats Domino in and of itself). During this time, Fats failed to experience significant chart success. In 1986, Fats was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as part of their inaugural lists.

Fats retired from touring following a health scare in Europe in 1995. Outside of the occasional performance at the New Orleans’ Jazz and Heritage Festival, he lived a mostly private life with his wife, Rosemary Hall (1930 – 2008), and his eight children. In 1998, Fats accepted a National Medal of the Arts from President Bill Clinton (1946 – ).

Fats refused to leave New Orleans – and abandon his sick wife – during Hurricane Katrina. His home was badly flooded and he lost most of his possessions. He was rescued by the Coast Guard on September First. Following the disaster, Fats released Alive and Kicking and donated a proportion of the sales to the Tipitana Foundation which helped New Orleans’ struggling musicians.

Following the album’s release, Fats retreated back into private life and largely shunned publicity. In 2008, Rosemary Hall, his wife of fifty years, died of chronic illness. Fats joined her on October 26th, 2017, at the age of eighty-nine.

Fats Domino must be credited as a key pioneer of rock ‘n’ roll. Together with Jerry Lee Lewis (1935 – ) and Little Richard (1932 – ), Fats style of piano playing helped define the new genre of music and inspired dozens of future musicians. No wonder The Rolling Stone Record Guide likened him to Benjamin Franklin (1706 – 1790).

THE NIGHT THEY DROVE OLD DIXIE DOWN

article-2203885-14fdc3ce000005dc-701_634x515

This week for our cultural article we will be examining The Band‘s 1969 folk-rock song, The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.

BACKGROUND

Rolling Stone magazine has described The Band as a group that “linked American folklore to primal myths.” They were founded in 1958 when Ronnie Hawkins (1935 – ) formed a backing band that would become known as Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks. The first future Band member to join would be drummer Levon Helm (1940 – 2012).

Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks toured the American south. This was followed by a tour of Ontario, Canada.  While in Canada, Willard Jones departed and Ronnie Hawkins was forced to hire a new pianist. He found one in Scott Cushnie. However, Cushnie would only agree to join if Hawkin’s hired Robbie Robertson (1943 – ) as well. Reluctantly, Hawkins agreed, and Robertson replaced Jimmy Evans on bass. After a short while, Robertson would be moved to rhythm guitar, playing behind Fred Carter’s (1933 – 2010), and, briefly, Roy Buchanan’s ((1939 – 1988)) lead.

In 1961, Rick Danko (1943 – 1999) joined Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks on bass. This was followed by the arrival of Garth Hudson (1937), a classically trained organ player who could read music.

1959 to 1963 were Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks glory years. Hawkins himself even sported a quasi-Elvis like quality. However, he was also quickly becoming the odd man out in the group. By the summer of 1963, Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks had parted ways.

Following Hawkin’s departure, The Hawks selected Levon Helm to be their frontman and renamed themselves, alternatively, Levon and the Hawks, and Canadian Squires.

It was their work as Bob Dylan’s (1941 – ) backing band that first brought The Band to attention. The group had first been introduced to Dylan by blues singer, John Hammond, Jr. (1942 – ). Initially, Dylan only hired Helm and Robertson but was quickly encouraged to hire the rest of the group, as well.

With Dylan, The Band was forced to reconcile themselves with a new kind of music and a new type of audience. With Ronnie Hawkins, they had played as a tightly formed musical unit playing rhythm and blues-based rock. Their chief influences were the music put out by Chess Records in Chicago and Sun Records in Memphis. Most of their audiences were interested in having a good time. With Dylan, on the other hand, they were forced to adapt to electric adaptations of folk songs to audiences who seemed determined to reject them, if only on principle.

In October of 1967, the group had been writing their own songs. They were signed to Capitol Records and adopted the name, The Band. Their first album was 1968’s, Music From Big Pink. Their first album, 1968’s Music From Big Pink, managed to gain a mystique similar to albums like Beggar’s Banquet (1968) and Abbey Road (1969).

Between 1969 and 1975, The Band enjoyed great influence and popularity. They followed their first album with 1969’s The Band. This was followed by Stage Fright in 1970. Later that year, The Band would tour with Janis Joplin (1943 – 1970) and The Grateful Dead on the Festival Express Canadian concert tour.

Unfortunately, cracks were already beginning to appear with The Band‘s framework. Robbie Robertson was exerting greater control of the group. Helm argued that Robertson was being authoritarian and greedy, but Robertson justified himself by arguing that Helm, Danko, and Richard Manuel’s (1943 – 1986) heroin usage were making them increasingly more unreliable. Despite their troubles, The Band released Cahoots in 1971. This was followed by the live album Rock of Ages. In 1973, The Band released Moondog Matinee.

On November 25th, 1976, The Band gave their final farewell performance. The concert, which would later be dubbed The Last Waltz, would feature guests Joni Mitchell (1943 – ), Ronnie Hawkins, Bob Dylan, Muddy Waters (1913 – 1983), Dr. John (1940 – ), Van Morrison (1945 – ), Ringo Starr (1940 – ), Eric Clapton (1945 – ), Ronnie Wood (1947 – ), Bobby Charles (1938 – 2010), Neil Diamond (1941 – ),  and Paul Butterfield (1942 – 1987).

The Band released their final album, Islands, in 1977 and disbanded later that year.

LYRICS

mi0000720925

Virgil Caine is the name and I served on the Danville train
‘Til Stoneman’s cavalry came and tore up the tracks again.
In the winter of ’65, we were hungry, just barely alive.
By May the tenth, Richmond had fell,
It’s a time I remember, oh so well

The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the bells were ringing.
The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the people were singing,
They went, “La, la, la”

Back with my wife in Tennessee,
When one day she called to me:
“Virgil, quick, come see, there goes Robert E.Lee.”
Now I don’t mind choppin’ wood
And I don’t care if the money’s no good.
You take what ya need and you leave the rest,
But they should never have taken the very best.

The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the bells were ringing.
The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the people were singing,
They went, “La, la, la”

Like my father before me, I will work the land.
And like my brother above me, who took a rebel stand.
He was just eighteen, proud and brave
But a Yankee laid him in his grave.
I swear by the mud below my feet
You can’t raise a Caine back up when he’s in defeat

The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the bells were ringing.
The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the people were singing,
They went, “La, la, la”

The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the bells were ringing.
The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the people were singing
They went, “La, la, la”

INTERPRETATION

richmond_virginia_damage

The story of The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down begins in August of 1968 when Robbie Robertson was inspired to write a song about the “beautiful sadness” of the South. The finished song would appear on The Band‘s self-titled second album: a concept album that used people, places, and traditions within Americana as musical themes.

The song is set to the backdrop of the American Civil War (1861 – 1865). In his book, American Oracle, historian David Blight (1949 – ), explained how the Civil War helped define the United States’ self-conception:

“For reasons explored in this work and elsewhere, the American Civil War has been forever an event that for reasons explored in this work and elsewhere, the American Civil War has been forever an event that fiercely resists popular consensus about its causes and consequences; despite voluminous research and overwhelming scrutiny, it remains the mythic national epic. As a broad culture, Americans seem incapable of completely shucking this event from its protective shells of sentimentalism, romance,  and pathos in order to see to its heart of tragedy. It might be argued that this is rightly so with national epics—they should or can never be utterly deromanticized. Or it might be argued that such epics are also dangerous to national self-understanding, to a healthy, informed confrontation with the meaning of the most important elements of our past, and therefore the imperatives of the present.  Modern nations are and always have been built upon their narratives of origin and development, and in this case, of destruction and rebirth. This study of the Civil War’s literary and intellectual history,  as well as its popular memory, engages the compelling question of how the United States, to an important degree, is the stories it tells itself about its Civil War and its enduring aftermath.”

This setting, of course, is a large part of the song’s appeal. Music journalist, Greil Marcus (1945 – ) wrote in his book, Mystery Train, that The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down had less to do with the Civil War itself and more to do with “the way each American carries a version of that event within himself.” Marcus went on to write:

“It is hard for me to comprehend how any Northerner, raised on a very different war than Virgil Kane’s,  could listen to this song without finding himself changed. You can’t get out from under the singer’s  truth—not the whole truth, but his truth—and the little autobiography closes the gap between us.  The performance leaves behind a feeling that for all our oppositions, every American still shares this old event; because to this day none of us has escaped its impact, what we share is an ability to respond to a story like this one.

Similarly, Rolling Stone‘s Ralph J. Gleason  (1917 – 1975) wrote that the song echoed Robert Penn Warren’s (1905 – 1989) sentiment of the Civil War as “history lived in our national imagination”:

“Nothing I have read … has brought home the overwhelming human sense of history that this song does.  The only thing I can relate it to at all is The Red Badge of Courage. It’s a remarkable song, the  rhythmic structure, the voice of Levon and the bass line with the drum accents and then the heavy  close harmony of Levon, Richard and Rick in the theme, make it seem impossible that this isn’t some  traditional material handed down from father to son straight from that winter of 1865 to today. It has  that ring of truth and the whole aura of authenticity.”

The Band‘s The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down demonstrates how music and words can be used to give meaning and depth to a nation’s historical experiences.

ROCK IS MASCULINE

classic_rock_1975_-_led_zeppelin_1

This July, Elvis Presley’s first single, That’s All Right, turned sixty-three years old. For the youth of the time, Elvis Presley’s arrival marks the cultural shift away from the Bing Crosby and Doris Day mentality of their parents’ generation to one that is centred around youth and adolescence. The repercussions of this seismic shift can still be felt.

Like all cultural phenomena, rock was denounced as a passing fancy at best, and satanic at worst. And like all cultural phenomena, many have failed to grasp its masculine cultural symbology: while there have been some great female rockers (Grace Slick, Suzi Quatro, Joan Jett, Deborah Harry, to name a few), rock has primarily been the manifestation of raw masculine energy and lust.

Rock music owes a lot to the myths and folklore of the past. In his book, the Secret History of Rock ‘n’ Roll, Christopher Knowles postulates that rock music is deeply rooted in the mythological figures of Orpheus, Cybele and Attis, Isis, Mithra, the Druids, and so forth. Knowles writes:

“What did the Mysteries offer that other cults of time did not? Almost exactly what rock ‘n’ roll would, thousands of years later. Drink. Drugs. Sex. Loud music. Wild pyrotechnics. A feeling of transcendence – leaving your mind and your body and entering a different world, filled with mystery and danger. A personal connection to something deep, straight, and impossibly timeless. An opportunity to escape the grinding monotony of daily life and break all the rules of polite society. A place to dress up in wild costumes and dance and drink and trip all night.”

Nowhere is this sentiment better expressed than in heavy metal. A genre whose thematically operatic power is drawn from themes of violence, madness, mythology, and the iconography of horror. Central to heavy metal music are fantasies of masculine virtuosity and control. According to Robert Wasler, author of the book Running with the Devil, “metal songs usually include impressive technical and rhetorical feats on the electric guitar, counter-posed with an experience of power and control that is built up through vocal extremes, guitar power chords, distortion, and sheer volume of bass and drums.”

robertjohnson

Originally, the term ‘rock ‘n’ roll’ was an African American euphemism for sexual intercourse. Blues music, one of the roots of rock, contains a plethora of examples of the raw masculine aggression and lust that later rock music would allude to. Muddy Water’s Hoochie Coochie Man, for example, utilises the theme of masculine self-mythologization:

“The gipsy woman told my mother

Before I was born

I got a boy child comin’

He’s gonna be a son of a gun

He’s gonna make pretty women’s

Jump and shout

Then the world wanna know

What this all about

But you know I’m him

Everybody knows I’m him

Well you know I’m the hoochie coochie man

Everybody knows I’m him.”

In a similar way, Muddy Water’s Mannish Boy, itself a response to Bo Diddley’s I’m a Man, continues the theme of masculine self-mythologization:

“Now when I was a young boy

At the age of five

My mother said I was gonna be

The greatest man alive

But now I’m a man

I made twenty-one

I want you to believe me, baby

I had lots of fun

I’m a man,

Spelt ‘m’, ‘a-child’, n’

The represents ‘man’

No ‘b, o-child, y’

That spells ‘mannish boy’.”

Sex forms another important theme in blues music. Waters’ song Got My Mojo Working features themes of hoodoo – an African American form of folk spiritualism – and seduction. Other songs, such as Screaming Jay Hawkins I Put a Spell on You, focuses on the raw, animalistic qualities of lust:

“I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine

Stop the things you do

Watch out!

I ain’t lying, yeah

No running around

I can’t stand

I can’t stand, no put me down

I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine

Watch out, watch out

I ain’t lying

I love you

I love you

I love you, yeah

I don’t care if you don’t want me

I’m yours right now

I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine.”

alg-pamela-des-barres-jpg

Masculinity and sex have always been themes in rock music. These themes manifest themselves most peculiarly in the quasi-religious experience of rock concerts. No one who has seen footage of Woodstock or its darker equivalent, Altamont, can fail to notice the undercurrents of tribalism present at these events. As one observer noted: “one of the most interesting developments in the United States in 1956 was the behaviour of hundreds of thousands of mostly white, middle-class girls, who screamed, danced, and sobbed to the point of ‘enthralment’, ‘near hysteria’, ‘mass hysteria’, or ‘pandemonium’.”

Rock songs of the 1960s, 70s, and 80s contained a plethora of references equating masculinity with sex. Dion’s the Wanderer is about a cad who roams ‘from town to town.’ Bob Seger’s Night Moves refers to a woman’s breasts – a natural object of male desire – as ‘points all her own sitting way up high, way up firm and high.’ More darkly, the Rolling Stones’ Brown Sugar contains themes of slavery, rape, interracial sex, underage sex, physical abuse, and drug taking. Then there are the music videos, many of which were banned from play on mainstream media. Duran Duran’s Girls On Film features nudity and mud wrestling. Queen’s Fat Bottom Girls features nude women riding bicycles around a sport’s track.

And, of course, it is not unusual for rockstars to enjoy favouritism from the opposite sex. Indeed, sexual prowess and adulation from women form an important theme in rock lore. Groupies of heavy metal artists, for instance, are not just female fans but are seen as extensions of the musician’s artistic identity. Women and access to sex are almost gifted to the rock star, much like the harems of the Ottoman Sultan, the mistresses of European monarchs, or the concubines of Chinese Emperors.

Rock music is the modern reincarnation of ancient myths and folklore. It relies on the same motifs and themes and therefore has a similar effect on the human psyche. As a result, rock music and mythology and folklore share many of the same tropes. Rock music glorifies masculine energy and lust through symbols and metaphors. It raises the rockstar to an exalted position and then confers benefits upon him by giving him greater access to women and sex. This, in turn, gives the rockstar an almost deific quality. Feelings of unity and tribalism are expressed through the quasi-religious nature of the rock concert. The long-lasting popularity of rock music arises from its ability to give expression to ancient symbols of masculinity, and in its capacity to provide an outlet for the more repressed aspects of our nature.