A Study of Blues And

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“YOUNG FASHIONED WAYS”: A STUDY OF BLUES AND

AUTHENTICITY IN THREE TRANSATLANTIC STUDIO

COLLABORATIONS

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A Thesis

Presented to the

Faculty of

San Diego State University

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In Partial Fulfillment

of the Requirements for the Degree

Master of Arts

Music

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Conor M. Jamison

Fall 2013

iii

ABSTRACT OF THE THESIS

“Young Fashioned Ways”: A Study of Blues and Authenticity in Three Transatlantic Studio Collaborations by Conor M. Jamison Master of Arts in Music San Diego State University, 2013

During the late 1960s and early 1970s, it was popular for blues artists—both British and American—to travel across the Atlantic to record with their fellow musicians. Three albums resulted from these collaborative exchanges which have been popular among fans, but also matters of controversy among blues purists: The London Muddy Waters Sessions, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions, and Fleetwood Mac: Blues Jam in Chicago. Some feel that the American masters did not play to their own potential, and the white, British sidemen sound weak in comparison with their black, American counterparts. These reflections call into question the ability of the British musicians to achieve authentic blues, as well as the ability of the American players to remain authentic in a collaborative environment. In 2002, musicologist, Allan Moore published his article “Authenticity as Authentication,” wherein, he outlined a tripartite typology that can be uses as a basis for evaluating musical performances in terms of the perception of authenticity by those experiencing it. Moore's typology classifies the factors of authenticity into “first-, second-, and third-person.” Or “authenticity of: 'expression,' 'experience,' and 'execution'”. In so doing, he explains how the music itself has less to do with authenticity, than does the personal experience of the performer and the perception of the listener. The intent of this project is to apply Moore's typology to the aforementioned albums in hopes of illuminating such blues collaborations by examining the factors that contribute to musician's experience, and a listener's perception of authenticity.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PAGE

ABSTRACT ...... iv CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION ...... 1 Review of Literature ...... 6 Purpose ...... 15 Limitations ...... 15 Methodology ...... 16 Definition of Terms...... 18 Organization of the Document ...... 19 2 FLEETWOOD MAC BLUES JAM IN CHICAGO ...... 21 3 THE LONDON HOWLIN' WOLF SESSIONS ...... 38 4 THE LONDON MUDDY WATERS SESSIONS ...... 56 5 CONCLUSION ...... 70 REFERENCES ...... 85

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

In the late 1960s, blues was waning in America. Blues still congregated in pockets of the country like Chicago, Memphis, New Orleans, and Houston, where there was still a thriving population of blues players and listeners, but blues no longer constituted the foundation of the American music aesthetic. Now that the United States had superstar psychedelic rock groups of its own, blues players were no longer the world ambassadors of American music as they once had been. The music of Motown and Stax Records resonated with the youth of a nation trying desperately to repair the wounds of racial subjugation, but the connections between blues and its defiant voice—speaking out in clever double entendre and euphemism against the ruling white majority—probably seemed passé and ineffective.1 Luckily for the American record industry and American blues artists, fans in the U.K. continued to demonstrate a sincere interest in blues music. In fact, the incoming generation of blues players to make the genre their own was comprised of those coming from outside the complex socio-political context of the music industry in the United States. British players like Alexis Korner, Graham Bond, and John Mayall had taken up the mantle of the traditional blues in the early 1960s when it previously had been economically unfeasible to do so.2 Their advantage may have been simply that they had not yet been introduced to the idea that blues was “black music,” and that they were not supposed to connect with it, which was the clear message of segregated radio in America. To the British listeners, there was no sonically perceptible difference between the piano playing of Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis—it was all just “American music.”3 Most importantly, the first British blues players did not have any illusions of making money from their music. Unlike the white cover groups in America,

1 Paul Oliver, The Story of the Blues (New York, NY: Chilton Book Company, 1969), 158. 2 Roberta Freund Schwartz, How Britain Got the Blues: The Transmission and Reception of American Blues Style in the United Kingdom (Kansas City, MI: Kansas University Press, 2007), 123. 3 Ibid., 236.

2 which were fashioned primarily to re-package and “tame down” a black song for a white audience, the British groups came together in coffee shops and pubs with an occasional “blues night,” or in the corners of obscure jazz record stores in London, scouring the isles for the newest Big Bill Broonzy single.4 By the time the “British Blues Boom” was in full swing in the mid-1960s, Korner, Bond, and Mayall had already grandfathered in a new generation of high-profile players like Eric Clapton, Peter Green, and The Rolling Stones. The eventual popularity of these artists in the U.S. only served to validate their authenticity, even though they shared that popularity with “Bubblegum Pop” artists and audiences. The early audiences for The Rolling Stones were not aware that the band was covering the songs of American blues players like Willie Dixon and Jimmy Reed, which also would not have mattered much.5 From the perspective of the musicians, people were listening to their music, attending their performances, and purchasing their recordings, so their music seemed authentic to them. After all, the British musicians loved American blues music and, like so many other young blues artists, were not interested in playing anything else.6 It had been essential for the new generation of British musicians to take the blues and make it their own, which was their only course, having not been black, conventionally religious, Southern, or American. The new life that the London scene breathed into the blues did not go unnoticed by the purveyors of blues records in America. A new fan base had developed, which meant there was new demand. Skin color had opened doors to white rock radio for players like Clapton and The Rolling Stones, but now that their popularity was worldwide, there were enough new and curious fans who wanted to know the origins of this music. There were enough fans to warrant a new round of album pressings, and reissues of recordings by the black originators. The recordings of the classic masters were dredged up and re-packaged, this time for a new demographic of white youth across the Atlantic.7

4 Eric Clapton: Sessions for Robert J., directed by Stephen Schibble (Warner Reprise Films, 2004), DVD (Warner Reprise Video, 2004). 5 Roberta Freund Schwartz, 233. 6 Ibid., 236. 7 John Michael Spencer, Blues and Evil (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 1993), xiii.

Throughout the 1960s, as the popularity of American blues artists decreased at home, it grew stronger abroad. Eric Clapton, for example, who had previously expressed great excitement at the prospect of backing up an American blues player like Sonny Boy Williamson with The Yardbirds in 1963, had been propelled into super-stardom with Cream;8 The Rolling Stones' string of pop hits brought them international fame; and the popularity of the new “Super Session” idea had blues record aficionados eagerly anticipating big-name collaborations. A few entrepreneurial record executives had the same idea. Since the end of the Second World War, American blues and jazz players had been coming to Great Britain to play for an ever-growing fan base. Initially, American record companies coordinated with British promoters, who would hire British backing musicians to accompany the high-profile American performers. In this way, American record companies saved on the cost of sending a full band on tour, and simultaneously, British promoters avoided paying steep union fees for depriving local musicians of work.9 In late 1963 the famous American blues harpist and singer Sonny Boy Williamson came to the U.K. to be accompanied by the British blues/pop group, The Yardbirds. The popularity of the ensuing performance recording, Sonny Boy Williamson Live at the Crawdaddy with the Yardbirds!, set a precedent for promoters who had quickly discovered that the novel format—American blues masters accompanied by popular British groups— represented a new and potentially lucrative possibility for British fans. British players relished the opportunity to play behind their American heroes, and British promoters enjoyed the profits from records that billed collaborations between superstars. Many different transatlantic collaborations followed, including sessions in England with American blues superstars like B.B. King and Chuck Berry. Meanwhile, The Rolling Stones visited Chicago to record a song at Chess Records. These collaborations appeared sporadically throughout the middle 1960s until several albums were released in 1969, 1970, and 1971. They are: Fleetwood Mac Blues Jam in Chicago, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions, and The London Muddy Waters Sessions.

8 Roberta Freund Schwartz, 150. 9 Roberta Freund Schwartz, xx-xi.

In January of 1969, while on tour in the United States, British blues band Fleetwood Mac was invited to record for a day at Chess Records Ter-Mar Studios in Chicago with members of the accomplished house band. Some members of the band were significant recording artists in their own right—including Otis Spann, Walter “Shakey” Horton, J.T. Brown, David “Honeyboy” Edwards, Buddy Guy, S.P. Leary, and the multi-talented Willie Dixon, who served as a songwriter, arranger, producer, and bassist for Chess Records. Fleetwood Mac producer Mike Vernon oversaw the recording of the jam session and subsequently edited the recorded material into a two-volume album entitled Fleetwood Mac In Chicago (U.K.) or Fleetwood Mac: Blues Jam in Chicago (U.S.). Members of both the Chess house band and Fleetwood Mac selected their own tunes to cover, and several different musicians contributed vocals. Although the album was commercially unsuccessful, it has been the subject of praise in the blues community. In May 1970, Chess producer Norman Dayron brought Howlin' Wolf, along with Chicago guitarist Hubert Sumlin, to London to record an album. Clapton, Steve Winwood, Bill Wyman, and Charlie Watts, among a few others, collaborated on The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions. Over the course of six days the group rifled through some of Wolf's old Chess Records hits like “Rockin' Daddy,” “Sitting on Top of the World,” and “Wang Dang Doodle.” The album seemed to many to be a dream project, as some of the most respected names in British blues were represented alongside the legend himself.10 But the quality of the blues on the record is questionable. In contrast to the Chicago album, which sounds energized and spontaneous, the London Sessions album sounds contrived and forced. In addition to the poor critical reviews the record received at the time of its release in 1971, and to the large-scale disappointment of blues aficionados on both sides of the Atlantic, the record today sounds unlike previous performances by Wolf and Clapton. Wolf sounds tired, the band is reserved, and the whole session suffers from a lack of passion and cohesion among the players. This record has been lambasted by critics as “downright depressing.”11

10 Bill Dahl, Blues Records, 1943-1970: A Selective Discography, vol. 1, edited by Mike Leadbitter and Neil Slaven (London, UK: Record Information Services, 1987), 15. On the British television program Shindig! in 1965, the Rolling Stones only appeared on the condition that Howlin' Wolf would receive top billing on the episode. As he performed to a live studio audience and later to television audience of thousands of Brits, the Rolling Stones sat at his feet respectfully and paid close attention like children at story time. 11 Cub Koda, “The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions,” Allmusic, accessed February, 2012,

Howlin' Wolf and Clapton have at different times either distanced themselves from the record or disavowed it as a weak moment in their catalog.12 Despite the lack of critical acclaim for the record, and despite the fact that the musicians themselves are not especially proud of the album, it remains a top seller in Howlin' Wolf's output. It is, in fact, his only album ever to break the Billboard Top 100, which is probably due mostly to the big names on the bill.13 The next year, 1971, Muddy Waters made his own journey to the United Kingdom to tour and record an album. In the studio he was accompanied by Winwood, Irish guitarist Rory Gallagher, former Blind Faith bassist Rick Grech, and former Jimi Hendrix Experience drummer Mitch Mitchell. Together they recorded The London Muddy Waters Sessions over the course of five days. Reputable critics of the record call it “tepid,” and consensus from listeners is that the record does not meet expectations of a Muddy Waters performance.14 After the recording and release of these collaborations in the 1970s, most of the featured artists would go on to collaborate with others. Despite critical words about his British colleagues, Waters did spend a large portion of the 1970s appearing onstage with white American musicians such as Paul Butterfield and Mike Bloomfield. Howlin' Wolf died only five years after the release of The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions, and the recordings that do exist in that time feature mostly performances from his regular backup band of Chess musicians. Members of the Fleetwood Mac in Chicago jam, such as Otis Spann, have continued to record and perform with all races and nationalities. Currently it seems as though most blues audiences have accepted Eric Clapton, Peter Green, and Rory Gallagher into the company of the old masters, who have in turn extolled the skills and understanding of the genre by the young, white British players.15 But the fact that Eric Clapton frequently appears on stage with musicians like B.B. King and Otis Rush does not

http://www.allmusic.com/album/the-london-howlin-wolf-sessions-r227413/ 12 Ibid. 13 Dahl, 15. 14 Koda, “The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions.” 15 Roberta Freund Schwartz, 14.

6 account for how the initial meeting between an old country blues musician like Howlin' Wolf and a twenty-five-year-old British rock star occurred in May of 1970. It is common to arrange for one artist to appear onstage and jam with another, and maybe even take a moment for a public photograph opportunity. It is also tempting to conclude that Eric Clapton does play authentic blues—after all, he is performing on stage with B.B. King. But the research proposed in this study is focused on examining the artists' musical connection during recording sessions that were arranged specifically to bridge musical generations, cultures, and races. Muddy Waters hired white musicians for his touring bands and showed support for young, white Chicago musicians like Paul Butterfield and Mike Bloomfield, even appearing with them on recordings throughout the 1960s and 1970s, yet had critical words for their British colleagues regarding their similar efforts in 1971.16 For some listeners, a house band full of high-profile blues musicians—some of whom had appeared with legends before, and would again—failed to provide sufficient musical backing for Wolf and Waters in London. For others, the scenario of Fleetwood Mac and the Chess Band automatically indicates the presence of authenticity. The purpose of this research is to examine the factors that contribute to a complex relationship between American blues artists and young British rock musicians.

REVIEW OF LITERATURE Serious academic scholarship in blues music began not long after the turn of the twentieth century. With the aid of wax recording techniques, early American ethnomusicologists like John Lomax traveled to the South in an attempt to preserve the folk music of the black community. Soon thereafter, fascinated white scholars from all over the United States and Europe began to collect recordings and travel to the American South to study a culture that many saw as mystical and mysterious. As such, the early literature on blues form and performers tends to be permeated with misunderstandings about blues and its relationship to morality and spirituality. Currently, with advancement the American Civil Rights Movement and the publishing of seminal works by black scholars like Amiri Baraka

16 McKinley Morganfield, Fathers and Son, recorded April 21–24, 1969, Universal Distribution/Universal Music Group, 1969, CD.

7 and Charles Keil, blues scholarship tends to be more representative of blues people and culture as opposed to the popular romantic vision of the outsider. Paul Oliver's Blues Fell This Morning: Meaning in the Blues is one of the earliest musicological studies on the blues.17 Oliver's book proceeds from the earliest oral accounts of blues stories that he found from the end of the nineteenth century to the date of publication. He provides explanations of the strife of the people who invented and developed blues music, and he offers complex interpretations of blues lyrics, which had until that point been largely misunderstood by white listeners. His comprehensive research provides a good deal of background to any study of blues music history. Blues Fell This Morning, as well as Oliver's 1969 follow-up work, The Story of the Blues, has helped to develop a narrative for the present study.18 In one or both of Oliver's books, each of the Chess recording artists on all of the three proposed research albums is addressed, if not directly, then in connection with another important figure in blues history. Oliver's book is crucial to understanding the meaning of blues lyrics, as well as the understanding of the view of the American black as perceived by the early white scholar. In 1959, Samuel B. Charters wrote his popular The Country Blues.19 In the introduction to the revised version of the text, he explains that the new 1975 re-publication is largely the same as the original. His reason for this is that he felt the work, while not as factually comprehensive as contemporary works like Oliver's, met his initial, modest aspirations of informing a general population of the intricacies of the blues culture. Charters admits in his new introduction that the book is neither academic nor scholarly; instead he has attempted to represent the original, authentic blues artists as the noble yet troubled human beings that they were. In his preface, Charters writes: ...The Country Blues....was a romanticization of certain aspects of black life in an effort to force the white society to reconsider some of its racial attitudes....I was trying to make the journey to find the artists as glamorous as possible, by describing the roadsides, and the farms, and the shacks, and the musicians

17 Paul Oliver, Blues Fell This Morning: Meaning in the Blues, 2nd ed. (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1990). 18 Oliver, The Story of the Blues. 19 Samuel B. Charters, The Country Blues (New York, NY: Da Capo Press, 1975).

themselves. What I was doing wasn't academic, and it wasn't scholarly, but it was effective.20 This quote reveals Charters's status as an outsider, but one who is well intentioned. His view is also a modified post-colonial view of the situation for blacks in the South. He sees them as a less mystical community than does Oliver, however they are still of a different ilk from the author, and this is acknowledged by Charters himself throughout the book. Charters's interpretation of the blues story ends as does Oliver's, with the advent of “urban blues” and the growing popularity of Northern artists. In the post-war economic boom, many black Americans moved north to cities such as Chicago or Detroit, which had an immense effect on the musical genre. Charters's last chapters deal mostly with the Chicago blues of Muddy Waters and Lightnin' Hopkins. He makes little mention of his predictions for where the blues might head in the future, except to imply that the popularity of the blues is decreasing. In the final chapter, he makes the pointed statement that contemporary blues artist “Sam 'Lightnin' Hopkins is probably the last of the great blues singers.”21 William Barlow published Looking Up at Down: The Emergence of Blues Culture in 1989.22 His interpretation of blues traditions and culture is a marked change from the scholarship of the 1950s and 1960s. Not only had issues of the civil rights struggle come into public consciousness, the British Blues Boom and subsequent “British Invasion” had occurred since the studies of Paul Oliver and Samuel Charters. Where Charters assumes that the last of the rural, country blues singers from the South—such as Waters and Lightnin' Hopkins—represented the end of the line, Barlow had seen the progression of a new world where the old blues heroes were experiencing a massive resurgence of popularity, and a young devoted audience had emerged. Along with that international audience had come a new wave of international players. Barlow discusses the modern blues of the late 1980s, and how people of all kinds and colors came to appreciate and play the blues. To Barlow, the question of authenticity is practically irrelevant.

20 Ibid., xii. 21 Ibid., 254. 22 William Barlow, Looking Up at Down: The Emergence of Blues Culture (Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press, 1989).

He proceeds through his conclusion as though anyone who takes on the performance of the blues is continuing the tradition, regardless of their race or nationality: “An unusual cross- section of people are currently engaged in blues culture. Their race, class, and generational differences have made it one of those rare, eclectic, and in many ways utopian social experiments that can take place only on the fringes of the dominant culture.”23 Barlow's work is important to this study in that it provides a more contemporary perspective of the cultural context of the blues tradition, which includes many players of different backgrounds than the genre's originators. His inclusive perspective is valuable to a modern study of the blues. In 1993, Bowling Green State University music and divinity professor John Michael Spencer published his manifesto Blues and Evil.24 While this book is not specifically a history of the blues, it is an essential piece of scholarship within the literature. As the title of the book suggests, Spencer devalues the secular aspects of blues scholarship and focuses on the music's complex relationship with Christianity and, consequently, the Devil. Spencer maintains that the blues is a highly religious art form and that the constant references to evil and the devil in blues lyrics have been misunderstood by white audiences and white blues players. He expresses disappointment that so many have been taken into the music, and shown a side of it that promotes racial stereotypes of early black blues singers as simple sinners. He takes issue with Oliver's scholarship on the grounds that Oliver believed that the blues was “bereft of spiritual values.”25 Spencer addresses this oversight: Any scholarship that neglects to demystify the blues for its authentic mythologies reveals ‘white uncertainties.’ The ‘uncertain’ white scholars of this ilk do not explicitly describe the blues as ‘lowdowns,’ Robert Johnson as one of the ‘original singers of American evil,’ or personify the blues as the devil; but those blues scholars essentially engage in the same stereotyping when not qualifying their semantics—‘(d)evil’—or when not contesting the widespread and entrenched belief that blues was irreligious, anti-religion, and atheistic.26

23 Ibid., 346. 24 Spencer. 25 Oliver, Blues Fell This Morning, 133. 26 Spencer, xvi.

Spencer is a self-described ‘bluesman,’ who divides his time between teaching students, and presumably booking gigs for his blues band.27 This makes the inclusion of his book important to this proposed study in that he has the perspective of not only a scholar who spends transcribes records and interviews subjects, but also a player who understands the intricacies of making music with others onstage. His position on the question of the authenticity of non- black players in the genre is clear: ...white musicians who perform the blues may feel as though they have attained a peer status with black blues singers.... It may be the wide availability of blues representations—books, magazines, recordings—gives white musicians the inclination that if they can understand the representations and objectify them in performance...then they too can be authentic blues singers, real ‘blues people.’28 Spencer's tone in this passage makes the sentiment obvious: he feels as though white singers—or more appropriately, non-black singers—will never be able to recreate the music that was originated by those in a particular setting, in a particular time and place. The newest generation of blues scholarship is represented in part by Marybeth Hamilton, who published In Search of the Blues in 2008.29 Not only does she address the issues of Oliver's ethnocentrism, but she also criticizes Charters, who until this point in blues scholarship had been a bastion of humility and truth. She interprets The Country Blues as an effort to weigh the authenticity of blues artists among black audiences against the authenticity of those popular among whites via his interpretations of record sales. She sees this as not only a flawed methodology, but also finds his use of record sales as a litmus test for true authenticity to be distasteful.30 Much of Hamilton's argument centers on what she perceives to be the widespread misuse of the term “Delta Blues.” Her contention is that the problems with Charters's sociological perspective led to the invention and subsequent appropriation, sale, and ultimate misunderstanding of the term. She discusses the possibility that many blues aficionados felt the same about Charters's work as she, and in the 1960s efforts were made to separate

27 Ibid., ix. 28 Spencer, ix. 29 Marybeth Hamilton, In Search of the Blues (New York, NY: Basic Books, 1998). 30 Ibid., 226.

Country Blues into more precise subdivisions. Those in the record industry saw this resurgence of interest as another opportunity to repackage old blues discs and sell them to new audiences under the auspices of the authentic blues: “Soon the idea that the Delta was the original home of the blues, that it generated a uniquely pure form of black music came to seem incontestable; in time, even Samuel Charters agreed.”31 Her interpretation is that not only have the white participants in blues culture often misunderstood the art form, but that they have harmed the blues. Like John Michael Spencer, Hamilton believes that white blues aficionados and players have further obscured the true meaning of the blues by popularizing the worst parts of the blues story, such as its attachment to the Devil in the case of the well-known “crossroads” story of Robert Johnson. Of the white blues revivalists of the 1960s, she writes: “At their most positive, they enriched understanding and broadened white horizons. At their worst, they fed on a faintly colonialist romance with black suffering, an eroticization of African American despair.”32 Hamilton's book is important to this study in that it gives a modern perspective to many of the issues of authenticity in blues music. Not only does her new perspective of the old scholarship inform this study, but she also brings perspective to the blues music that has been recorded since the three albums in question. She identifies issues of authenticity that affect the newest blues audience and the newest generation of blues players who may have grown up hearing blues music as it appears on The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions, for example. In the article “Authenticity as Authentication,” Allan Moore outlines a tripartite typology that, he argues, can be used to serve as a basis for examining the authenticity of “who,” rather than “what” is being authenticated.33 He maintains that the study of this particular perspective—the study of the people experiencing the music as opposed to the music itself—not only eliminates much of the need for illogical inclusion and exclusion of artists, but also re-instigates the issue of authenticity as a valuable element in musicological

31 Hamilton, In Search of the Blues, 233. 32 Ibid., 243. 33 Allan Moore, “Authenticity as Authentication.” Popular Music 21, no. 2 (May, 2002): 209.

12 discourse. Moore's typology includes “first,” “second,” and “third” person authenticity, or authenticity of “expression,” “experience,” and “execution,” as Moore explains: Authenticity of expression, or 'first person authenticity', arises when an originator (composer, performer) succeeds in conveying the impression that his/her utterance is one of integrity, that it represents an attempt to communicate in an unmediated form with an audience. Authenticity of experience, or 'second person' authenticity occurs when a performance succeeds in conveying the impression to a listener that that listener's experience of life is being validated, that the music is 'telling it like it is' for them. Authenticity of execution, or 'third person authenticity' arises when a performer succeeds in conveying the impression of accurately representing the ideas of another, embedded within a tradition of performance. (The acquisition of an authentic mode of expression from those whose possession it is).34 Moore examines a number of examples in the popular music world, spanning genres from folk music to rock. He examines each performance—or more precisely, each instance of performer-audience interaction—from these three angles. In this way, Moore can authenticate aspects of a performance, a performer, an audience reaction, or a performer's relationship to the tradition of a given music without disavowing the performer as completely inauthentic. Moore's argument is that authenticity is a troublesome issue, as so many musicologists have suggested, but that it need not be. While other definitions of authenticity might cast a performance into one camp or the other, Moore's typology allows for a more inclusive and flexible definition, which makes the idea of authenticity in popular music an important aspect of musicological examination. Moore describes his vision of first-person authenticity via several different factors that lend themselves toward an artist's authentic expression. His primary example is Paul Weller in his 1995 performance of the song “The Changingman.” In Moore's estimation, the perception of first-person authenticity and real emotion comes first by way of the performance of the vocalist. Moore writes of an emotional “'unmediated expression,' by which is assumed the possibility of the communication of emotional content (inherent possibly in the music itself, but certainly at least in the performance) untrammeled by the difficulties attendant on the encoding of meaning in verbal discourse.”35 Of Weller's

34 Moore, 209. 35 Ibid.

13 performance of “The Changingman” he writes, “...with gravelly vocals connoting a voice made raw from crying or shouting. His voice eschews the finesse of embellishments and melismas and carries no sense of being treated as an end in itself. These features can convey to his audience that they are perceiving real emotion.”36 The second identifiable factor of Moore's first-person authenticity is the consideration of the lineup of backing musicians as well as the choice of instrumentation for both the band and Weller. Although Moore does not fully explain what he means by the authenticity of Weller's band line-up, it is reasonable to assume that he is referring to the careful choice of accompanying players and instruments. In other words, the choice of backing musicians or instrumentation might positively or negatively influence the authenticity of a performance by making the artist more comfortable with his surroundings. Moore indicates another factor that enhances Weller's first person authenticity. This is what Moore refers to as his clear “line of descent” from previous performers in terms of both voice (i.e. Joe Cocker), and harmonic pattern (i.e. Cream). This is also exemplified by the “descendent use of old, 'live' recording tactics with a minimum of overdubs (i.e. Stax Records).”37 The last of Moore's points about first-person authenticity involves the use of “live” recording techniques. He discusses “...an absolute minimum of the overdubs, multi-tracking and other devices which 'cheat' the listening ear. This latter point also is historicised, since it recalls the practices of established studios like Stax in the mid-1960s, where such recording situations were normative and highly prized.38 His implication is that Paul Weller is able to capture the sense of integrity and come closer to achieving this “unmediated expression” by recording the band live, as opposed to take-by-take in the studio. Moore is discussing an album that was released in 1995, when recording live had become uncommon in pop music. Second-person authenticity is difficult to assess, because it is entirely dependent upon the experiences of the listener. What satisfies the expectations of one listener, and therefore

36 Ibid. 37 Ibid., 212. 38 Ibid., 223.

14 validates their sense of having heard something authentic, may not (and often does not) do the same for another. Moore himself chooses the genre of the blues to describe his perception of third- person authenticity. It is fitting in the context of this paper that Moore’s example of the continuance of a third party’s tradition is Eric Clapton. Moore examines Clapton’s continuance of the blues tradition with Cream in the mid-1960s: The blues rock movement of the 1960s was partly founded on the employment of a style ('the blues') which, in its origins in the racist and economically deprived Mississippi delta, was felt to embody such a harsh reality that the reality became embodied in the style itself. Thus, it became a matter of ideology that to employ the 'blues' within a thoroughly different social context, by venerating its originators thereby enabled the appropriation of their very authenticity....In performing Johnson's Crossroads' with Cream, not only do we interpret Clapton conveying to his audience that 'this is what it's like to be me' but, doubly vicariously, that 'this is what it was like to be Johnson', with all the pain that implies '[The blues] comes from an emotional poverty. . . I didn't feel I had any identity, and the first time I heard blues music it was like a crying of the soul to me. I immediately identified with it' (Clapton quoted in Coleman 1994, p. 31). For Clapton, for Peter Green, and to a lesser extent for guitarists like Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page, the search for the musical soul of blues singers like Robert Johnson was propelled by a desire to appropriate the 'unmediated expression' which was thought to be the preserve of the country blues style, entailing an unquestioned assumption that African Americans in the southern USA were somehow more 'natural' beings than white, college-educated Londoners.39 Moore's assumption is that Clapton's presumed understanding of Johnson's lyrics lends itself to his third-person authenticity. If Clapton were to sing the song blithely, without regard for the meaning or for Johnson's pain, his performance would suffer from a lack of third-person authenticity. But the fact that he is familiar with Johnson's life story improves the authentic quality. This summary of the literature related to blues scholarship represents the current argument regarding non-black and non-American participation in the blues. Many of the artists who perform on Fleetwood Mac Blues Jam in Chicago, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions, and The London Muddy Waters Sessions, are dealt with directly in the blues histories of Oliver, Charters, and Barlow. Others, like Clapton, are addressed by the younger

39 Ibid., 215.

15 scholars Hamilton and Spencer. But these books and articles only provide background information on the players and the albums have been reviewed only in popular journalism; no one has undertaken a critical analysis of any of the three records in this project. These three recordings are interesting and valuable examples of collaborations among many of the musicians who remain at the center of discussion concerning the history, culture, and authenticity of the blues.

PURPOSE The purpose of this project is to examine the performers' experience and the listeners' perception of authenticity in three interracial, intergenerational, and transatlantic blues collaboration albums from the late 1960s and early 1970s by applying Allan Moore's tripartite typology as outlined in his article, “Authenticity as Authentication.”

LIMITATIONS Each of the three albums will be examined as individual case studies. The first case study will be Fleetwood Mac Blues Jam in Chicago, recorded at Chess Records' primary Ter- Mar studio in 1969. Proceeding chronologically, the next case study will be The London Howlin Wolf Sessions, recorded at the BBC's Olympic Studio in 1970. The last case study will be London Muddy Waters Sessions from 1971. These specific albums were chosen because they signal a significant development in the history of blues collaborations: both London Sessions records represent an attempt made by Chess Records to capitalize on the popularity of the British blues players, while Blues Jam in Chicago represents a reversal of that scenario wherein the Chess players become host to the popular British artists. Each case study will be broken into sections the first of which will involve biographical information about the key performers on the recording. The next section will introduce the recording as it came to be realized by production managers and, in some cases, the musicians themselves. Next, each case study will follow an examination of first-, second-, and third-person authenticity via evidence found in: the music, the experiences of participants, and the reflections of listeners. As Allan Moore suggests, it will be crucial to

16 imagine authenticity in terms of “who, not what is being authenticated.”40 It is with this idea in mind that the present project is focused primarily on the musicians themselves. Musical analysis will be limited to comparisons of collaborative recording and performance experiences among the three albums. Individual tracks on the case study recordings will be cited as they compare with their original counterparts. However, instead of examining each of the performances as static moments captured in time, the thoughts, feelings, and memories of those who experienced the recordings will be examined. Moore writes: What unites all these understandings of authenticity is...they all relate to an interpretation of the perceived expression of an individual on the part of an audience. Particular acts and sonic gestures (of various kinds) made by particular artists are interpreted by an engaged audience as investing authenticity in those acts and gestures - the audience becomes engaged not with the acts and gestures themselves, but directly with the originator of those acts and gestures.41 The application of Moore's typology is the primary focus of this project. Strict adherence to Moore's outlines is essential to the continuity of the examinations present herein. In this way the project might contribute to the literature by providing an example of Moore's theory applied to a genre that he has not examined in close detail, and by providing a useful analysis of three historically important performances that have not yet been subject to critical attention.

METHODOLOGY Each case study will be divided into three segments as per Allan Moore's article “Authenticity as Authentication.” First, the aspects of what Moore describes as “first-person authenticity” will be observed, in an attempt to determine whether the musicians felt that the music on their recording had integrity, and whether they believed that integrity was conveyed to the audience. Published interviews with the musicians will figure heavily into this particular segment of the case study. Muddy Waters's own words about the project, for example, will be taken into consideration as well as well as the comments of the European musicians like Rory Gallagher. Each of the following factors will be examined in detail as they can be applied to each of the three case study albums: an expressive performance of the

40 Ibid., 209. 41 Ibid., 214.

17 vocalist, appropriate choices of line-up and instrumentation, adherence to a “line of descent” from previous performers, and a minimum presence of overdubs. Each album will then be examined for its “second-person authenticity.” The study of this branch of Moore's theory will rely on the words of those who experienced the album as listeners, including fans, critics, and the album producers and engineers. In this way, the project will address how listeners have responded to the album, and whether it met their expectations of the performers. One way to collect data concerning the experience of listeners is to examine the record sales of the album, which is the first and obvious indicator of its popularity. However, having learned the lesson from Marybeth Hamilton and her distaste for Samuel Charters's similar litmus test for authenticity, it is clear that this kind of data must be supplemented with further evidence; a record’s sales do not necessarily qualify its authenticity. Another example of data that reflects the record's effect on listeners is be the examination of the critical response to the album. In the current climate of failing record stores, it is only possible for some listeners to acquire these records online. In such an environment, many of the first descriptions of the music come in the form of album reviews written by the professional staff of Allmusic.com or in the comments section of the recording’s Amazon.com website. Publishing an album review on Amazon is as simple as signing up for an account, and anyone with an internet connection can do it, but one can separate the serious comments made by considerate listeners from less credible reviewers. Many of the more informed reviews are lengthy and were posted by listeners who took the time to let others know whether a record is worth the time and money. In this sense, these reviews can be a helpful guide in determining listener response to a particular recording. Next, each album will be subject to the examination of its “third-person authenticity,” wherein the performers' remarks will be consulted again, but this time from the perspective of a given performer's relationship to the traditions of the blues. Moore describes how an artist succeeds in “'authenticity of execution,' by conveying the impression of accurately representing the ideas of another, embedded within a tradition of performance.”42

42 Ibid., 218.

After each album has been examined for all three segments of authenticity, the study will conclude with thoughts regarding the larger issue of issue of transatlantic, interracial blues collaborations.

DEFINITION OF TERMS Authenticity: A term sometimes applied to the performance of music of the past in a historical context; as such it is both contentious and ill-defined. It is open to more than one interpretation, including the objective of performing a work in accordance with the composer's believed intentions, or as other musicians performed it during his or her lifetime, or using the instruments and practices known to the composer. The divergence of practice that may result from the pursuit of these differing aims presents great difficulty in defining the boundaries of authenticity. Furthermore, the available evidence regarding the nature of performance in a given historical period is often patchy and contradictory. In consequence, many aspects of performance inevitably rely on intuition and so can never be verified empirically as ‘authentic’.43 Bluesman: Refers to someone who not only plays the blues, but devotes one's life to the “blues lifestyle” of performing, touring, and living life to the fullest. It is a contested term as the temptation for an amateur to refer to himself as a real “bluesman” is great. But among accepted bluesmen, it is a title that is hard earned. Blues rock: A direct offshoot of R&B and traditional blues, blues rock is a harder- edged or faster style that may still utilize blues chord progressions or scales. The line between blues and blues rock is blurry and many “blues rock” artists consider themselves to be blues artists. Similarly, many listeners would hear blues rock and immediately make an association with blues. Some artists considered as blues rock artists include Cream, Led Zeppelin, and Freddie King. Bottleneck: A common tool for country blues players, the neck of a glass bottle was often used to slide on the strings of a guitar to create an effect similar to that of a lap steel. Examples of notable bottleneck players are Robert Johnson, Elmore James, and Muddy Waters. Country blues: Refers to the earliest form of recorded blues. Much of it consists of a vocalist accompanied by a solo acoustic guitar. Country blues is close in relation to folk music in its lyrics, the subjects of which range from social troubles to intricate metaphors for the supernatural. Examples of country blues artists include Huddie Ledbetter (Leadbelly), Robert Johnson, and Blind Lemon Jefferson. Delta blues: A term often used to describe country blues music of the Mississippi Delta and surrounding areas, the word is now under scrutiny by blues scholars. Some point to evidence suggesting that the term “Delta Blues” is an invented marketing ploy, an attempt to deliberately mystify the blues for a curious white audience.

43 Bryan White, "authenticity," Oxford Music Online, last modified August 27, 2012, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/opr/t114/e494.

Groove: In the realm of jazz, a persistently repeated pattern. More broadly, studying groove from an ethnomusicological perspective, defines it cautiously as “an unspecifiable but ordered sense of something that is sustained in a distinctive, regular and attractive way, working to draw the listener in.” Connections to dance are important, and the statement that a performance has, or achieves, a groove usually means that it somehow compels the body to move. Still more generally, the term has a sexual origin and connotation.44 Harp (mouth harp, mouth organ, comb): Slang for harmonica. Glenn Weiser, author of Blues & Rock Harmonica, noted that in the late 1800s the Carl Essback Company marketed several harmonicas with the name “French Harp,” which were especially popular in the South during the early twentieth century.45 Jump Blues: A style of jazz related to swing. It developed around 1937 and flourished during the 1940s, becoming a major element in the repertory of rhythm- and-blues bands up to the mid-1950s. In a general sense, the word “jump” described the compelling energy of the dance music played by the big bands. From the mid- 1940s the term was applied more specifically to the small-group style exemplified by the work of Louis Jordan, the instrumentation of whose group, the Tympany Five, served as the model for all subsequent jump bands.46 Race Music (race records): A term for music aimed at black audiences in the early days of the recording industry and radio. It describes what today might be called blues, soul, rock & roll, country music, or any others in which black artists participated. The term went out of fashion and split into more definitive terms as the need for more precisely categorized genres grew. Blues with drums and electric guitars, for example, went from the general term “race music” to the smaller definition of “R&B.” Rhythm & Blues (R&B): The classification given to blues music after the over- simplified “race music” label became too broad. Though now it refers to music that might be called soul or smooth jazz, it used to refer to blues music that had been electrified, and therefore required louder drums.

ORGANIZATION OF THE DOCUMENT This thesis will be organized into five chapters. The first chapter will include the introduction, review of literature, purpose, limitations, methodology, and definitions. The second chapter will consist of a case study of Fleetwood Mac: Blues Jam in Chicago, the third chapter will consist of a case study of The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions, and the

44 Barry Kernfeld. “Groove (i),” Oxford Music Online, accessed April 1, 2013, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/J582400. 45 Debra DeSalvo, The Language of the Blues (New York, NY: Billboard Books, 2006), 80. 46 Howard Rye and Barry Kernfeld, “Jump,” Oxford Music Online, last modified April 8, 2013, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/J240000.

20 fourth chapter will consist of a case study of The London Muddy Waters Sessions. The final chapter will reveal conclusions reached by the application of Allan Moore’s typology on interracial, transatlantic, and intergenerational blues collaborations.

CHAPTER 2

FLEETWOOD MAC BLUES JAM IN CHICAGO

Chicago had been an industrial center during the Great Migration after WWI, and the economic boom that followed WWII continued the influx of migrants from the South. Amiri Baraka writes that “between the years 1910 and 1920, 60,000 Negroes migrated from the South to the city of Chicago. The North became a promise land, another Jordan—not only because of the tales of high-paying jobs for everyone there but because the South would always remain in the minds of most Negroes, even without the fresh oppression of Jim Crow laws, the scene of the crime.”47 Migrants seeking jobs in the auto factories were not the only transplants; musicians and artists came also. The performers of Mississippi-style country blues, including Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf, made the journey North and found that their music had to evolve to meet the demands of a new crowd. They were no longer in “The Country” and their music would have to reflect their new surroundings. The small juke joints of the South gave way to larger clubs and dance-halls on the South Side of Chicago. Naturally the larger size of the venues meant increased amplification of the music. As technology for microphones, electric instruments, and amplification improved, the music changed to meet a new standard. But the volume wasn't the only element that transformed country blues into “classic blues,” as Amiri Baraka describes: Classic blues was entertainment and country blues, folk-lore. The blues and blues oriented jazz of the new city dweller was harder, crueler, and perhaps even more stoical and hopeless than the earlier forms. It took its life from the rawness and poverty of the grim adventures of “big city livin'.” It was a slicker, more sophisticated music, but the people too, could fit these descriptions. The tenements, organized slums, gin mills, and back breaking labors in mills, factories, or on the docks had to get into the music somehow.48 The music recording industry was just beginning to take shape when a family of Jewish immigrants from Poland named Czyz (renamed Chess at Ellis Island) took up residence on

47 LeRoi Jones, Blues People: Negro Music in White America (New York: W. Morrow, 1963), 95. 48 Ibid., 105.

Chicago's South Side.49 Leonard Chess began his career in a liquor store, where he developed friendships with the South Side clientele and absorbed the local lingo and style. He eventually borrowed money from his father so that he could open a nightclub called the Macomba Lounge with his younger brother and business partner Phil. Chess tried to find the best musicians possible for the house band in order to secure the best headlining acts, and the Macomba quickly became the hottest nightclub on the South Side.50 Leonard Chess had come to enjoy the music that surrounded him, that of the urban blues that had morphed out of the country blues sounds of the South. He found that though there were many nightclubs and speakeasies like the Macomba to accommodate the population of urban blues listeners, no one was seriously recording the music. Eventually, when record producers began showing up to make deals with some of the talent who frequented the stage at the Macomba, Chess decided to put his stake into the recording business. His connections to the best musicians were already in place, which provided a crucial advantage when he and his brother became co-owners of the small Aristocrat record label in 1949.51 They renamed the label after themselves and found a regular house band from the pool of talent at the Macomba, re-tasked the studio at 2120 S. Michigan Avenue, and began exclusively to record artists who were featured at the neighborhood nightclubs. With acts like Muddy Waters, Little Walter, John Lee Hooker, Etta James, Sonny Boy Williamson II, and Howlin' Wolf recording hit R&B singles, by the early 1950s Chess became one of the most important record companies in America.52 The advent of rock & roll signified a new status quo for popular music. The slow, shuffling tempos of Little Walter's urban blues and even the raucous swing of Louis Jordan's “jump blues” gave way to the popularity of songs with quick tempos by artists like Chuck Berry and Little Richard. As the musical landscape changed, Chess Records attempted to change along with it. The 1960s saw Chess Records introducing an increasing number of

49 Rich Cohen, Machers and Rockers: Chess Records and the Business of Rock & Roll (New York, NY: W.W. Norton & Company, 2004), 23. 50 Ibid., 43. 51 Ibid. 52 Ibid.

23 their artists overseas as they became less popular in the U.S. Meanwhile, audiences in Europe had just begun to discover them. Acts that had been the stalwarts of the Chess catalog now had trouble selling, and had to resort to what author Rich Cohen might refer to as “repackaging.” This is how Cohen describes Chess's later attempts to keep Muddy Waters relevant to the cultural mainstream, with such recordings as his 1968 psychedelic experiment Electric Mud: “It's as if Marshall [Chess] locked Muddy in a studio with a wah-wah pedal and said; don’t come out until you've made a record.”53 The major record labels like CBS were buying the smaller independent companies like Stax, Atlantic, and Chess, who had built their business on recording race music. GRT (soon to be owned by Warner Entertainment Group) purchased Chess Records in 1968 for a paltry 6.5 million dollars under the condition that the artists and staff would remain, and that the Chess family be allowed to run the business. GRT quickly took over more than the Chess brothers had imagined they would, instituting strict policy changes that angered musicians and affected the quality of work the studio produced. In addition, they were running the company into the ground financially.54 Leonard left the company in disgust and died of a heart attack shortly thereafter, leaving his son to handle the company. In 1968, Leonard's son Marshall, who had long looked forward to the day he might take over the Chess Empire, was handed the reins, but it came under somewhat different circumstances than he expected. He had new owners to placate; angry, underpaid musicians—who hadn't been informed of the sale—to deal with; and a market that would rather hear the psychedelic rock coming out of San Francisco than it would another jump blues from any of the standard Chess artists. Even Chuck Berry was failing to sell in the late-1960s climate of protest and social change. It is under these uncertain circumstances for Chess Records that Fleetwood Mac arrived on January 4, 1969. During the height of the British Blues Boom in the mid-1960s, the man who was known for making some the most quality blues music in the U.K. was John Mayall. In 1965, Mayall hired a twenty-year-old guitarist named Peter Green as a substitute for Eric Clapton in his London-based hardcore blues outfit, the Bluesbreakers. Clapton had gained a great

53 Cohen, 176. 54 Ibid.

24 deal of notoriety for his skill as a blues guitarist during his time in the Bluesbreakers, and there was doubt as to whether any guitarist in the U.K. could replace him. At the time, John McVie played bass for the Bluesbreakers, and several different drummers, including Mick Fleetwood, switched in and out as needed. Eventually, Green won over audiences with his virtuosic talent, his unique style, and his singing ability—a skill that Clapton had yet to hone at that point in the 1960s. The sense of ensemble achieved by Green and the Fleetwood/McVie rhythm section was praised by most who heard the group jam, including Mayall. 55 John Mayall’s group was host to many different musicians throughout the 1960s, and it was a starting point for many other projects. Many musicians who had backed up Mayall would go on to play with different groups or, as was the case with Fleetwood Mac, form their own group. Founder of Blue Horizon Records and Bluesbreakers session producer Mike Vernon had suggested that the three players remain together after their stint with Mayall, an idea they all found agreeable, though McVie remained with Mayall until a record deal was secured.56 Many British record companies showed interest in Peter Green's new act, and Fleetwood Mac signed with CBS Records in 1966. Vernon was sure that Mayall's label, Decca, would offer Green a deal, but Green chose CBS in order to avoid competition with his friend. 57 Green was a seasoned performer and songwriter, but he was shy and felt as though Fleetwood Mac's stage show could be augmented with another charismatic singer. Mike Vernon found Elmore James impressionist Jeremy Spencer and introduced the two guitarists. They bonded immediately and Spencer joined the band as a second singer/guitarist. Fleetwood Mac kept that lineup until 1968, when Green decided to hire a third singer/guitarist, Danny Kirwan. From the separation from Mayall in 1967 until Green left Fleetwood Mac in 1970, Fleetwood Mac was one of the most popular groups in the U.K. In 1970 their singles were outselling the records of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones

55 Peter Green: Man of the World, directed by Steve Graham, (Aspect Films, 2009), DVD (British Broadcasting Company [BBC], 2009). 56 Ibid. 57 Ibid.

25 combined.58 Today, the Peter Green era Fleetwood Mac is considered by many blues aficionados, enthusiasts, scholars and notable blues players to be one of the most skilled groups in the British blues revival of the 1960s. Once, B.B. King declared that Peter Green was the only of the young, new guitarists of the U.K. whose playing could “send chills up his spine.”59 Mike Vernon, who had stayed on as Fleetwood Mac's producer, arranged for the group to come to Chicago and record at the world famous Ter-Mar recording studio. He scheduled the recording session for a single day in January of 1969 during a brief tour of the Eastern U.S.60 To the best of Vernon's recollection the recording took place during the day and into the evening. Though Vernon had been working on the arrangements for some time, the final invitation came on short notice, and there was no time to make sure some of the band members’ favorite performers would be there; they would record with whoever was in the house.61 Neither of the Chess brothers had any noteworthy musical talent, so they counted on songwriter and bassist Willie Dixon to make sure that the session was recorded smoothly. The other players present that day included harpist and singer Walter “Shakey” Horton and Muddy Waters' half-brother Otis Spann, who was a skilled singer and pianist in his own right. J.T. Brown and S.P. Leary, who had been members of Elmore James's famous Broomdusters in the 1950s, sat in on saxophone and drums respectively. David “Honeyboy” Edwards and Buddy Guy, both guitarists, were on hand, though Vernon would later discover that problems with licensing would prevent him from billing Guy under his own name, so he would have to be referred to on the album as “Guitar Buddy.” First-person authenticity is described by Moore as a sense of authenticity experienced by the performer himself or herself. As previously discussed, Moore measures the levels of this authenticity via several characteristics, the first of which is the sense of “unmediated

58 Ibid. 59 Ibid. 60 Mike Vernon, Fleetwood Mac, Blues Jam in Chicago, Blue Horizon Inc., liner notes, 2004. 61 Ibid.

26 expression” achieved by the vocalist.62 It can be difficult to identify the specific emotive qualities of the performance of any instrument, especially that as expressive as the human voice. Moore's only recourse after a few descriptive adjectives (such as “gravelly vocals” which denote a “pained” expression) is to compare Paul Weller to other performers such as Joe Cocker.63 It is this difficulty of identification of “real emotion” that highlights the importance of an accurate examination of Moore's concept regarding vocal performance. The performances of the vocalists who take turns at the microphone during the Blues Jam in Chicago recording session will be examined with this aspect of Moore's concept in mind. In his discussion of Paul Weller's gravelly vocals, Moore makes no allowance for the possibility that Weller might be a seasoned and professional recording artist. In the case of Blues Jam in Chicago, the listener is given a rare glimpse into studio recording. Under normal circumstances, a listener is allowed to hear only the final product—the result of hundreds of takes, and hundreds of hours of mixing and editing. In Blues Jam in Chicago, the listener often hears the beginning of a take, a botched introduction, discussion about the song, and eventually the final take. It may be surprising to some listeners—maybe even Moore—that an artist like Green can switch in and out of an emotional performing voice and regular chitchat voice with seeming ease. The reality is that many quality performers may have gravelly, emotional, even pained-sounding voices that are well rehearsed and are accessed with little difficulty. However, it is doubtful that such laboriously rehearsed skills would be found among musicians who didn't experience a sense of sincere expression and a desire to impart that expression to an audience. The performances delivered by Green on Blues Jam in Chicago do give the sincere impression of the blues. Green performs songs such as “Sugar Mama” and “Last Night” with an emotional style that is just as ferocious and genuine as any of his performances recorded in the U.K. When Moore writes of the “communication of emotional content untrammeled by difficulties attendant on the encoding of meaning on verbal discourse,” he means that the singer is able to communicate meaning through his song so emotionally that encoding verbal

62 Moore, 212. 63 Ibid.

27 meaning may not be as important—if it applies at all.64 In this sense, Peter Green has achieved what Moore describes as “first-person authenticity.” In this collaboration with the Chess house band and his own colleagues, he has succeeded in communicating his message emotionally and thus convincingly. Jeremy Spencer's set is of special note in terms of vocal style. Spencer's primary influence in the 1960s was the deceased Chess recording artist Elmore James, whom he expertly impersonated. Spencer's impression of James is refined, even in recordings that date to 1966 and 1967—long before he ever visited James's home at Chess Records studios. His singing is a dead-on impression of James, but it is difficult to determine whether his performances on Blues Jam In Chicago are an example of the kind of “unmediated expression” that Moore describes. The examination of Spencer's real emotion is even more problematic than is the case with Green switching between relaxed speech and impassioned singing in that Spencer has clearly practiced this form of expression until it sounds like a facsimile of James, which he can execute under the most nerve-wracking of circumstances. This indicates the possibility that Spencer possesses the ability to sing convincingly without experiencing the kind of emotion Moore describes. Spencer could conceivably record covers of James's songs as long as required while experiencing any number of everyday emotions that had nothing to do with the blues. However, there is nothing to suggest that a recording session at Ter-Mar Studios with J.T. Brown would have been an average day in the studio for Spencer. On the contrary, Blues Jam in Chicago seems to have been a highlight of Spencer's career up to that point, and evidence suggests that Spencer gave the session his all. In the studio, for example, Spencer's spike mark was positioned directly across from Brown, who knew James well and recorded most of his original singles from the 1950s. Vernon wrote in a 2013 interview, “I think [Spencer] did exactly what came naturally...impersonating Elmore. If you could have seen the expression of J.T.'s face when Jeremy plugged in, turned on the volume and let rip...he almost fell over with surprise!”65

64 Moore, 213. 65 Mike Vernon, e-mail message to author, February 12, 2013.

After one performance on the album, Vernon can be heard asking Spencer what he wants to record next, and he replies nervously that he doesn't know, and must be prompted— at first by Vernon, and then by the other musicians—to commit to a choice. Vernon writes that though Spencer sounds nervous on the record, he was in fact the only member of Fleetwood Mac who felt confident that the collaboration would achieve positive results; he was excited at the prospect of playing with his hero’s old band mates.66 Spencer’s singing style reflects the joyful mood of a musician who feels privileged to take advantage of a unique opportunity. Spencer performs his impersonation of James with courage, devotion, and intensity, which gives the listener the distinct impression that the singer is completely in the moment as he performs with the Chess house band. In this sense, Spencer experiences what Moore would describe as “unmediated expression” with his audience, thereby achieving a measure of first-person authenticity. Moore's next characteristic of first-person authenticity comes by way of his description of lineup and instrumentation. Moore describes the standard, “authentic” lineup for a rock band in his reference to Paul Weller. Although that lineup may be slightly different than it would be for the Chess Records house band, the formula for a Chess Records ideal lineup can be compared to Fleetwood Mac's instrumentation. Most Chess recordings included bass, drums, piano, and guitars (or other lead instruments such as harmonica), and someone singing the song and leading the band. The lineup for Blues Jam in Chicago included rhythm section players (Willie Dixon and S.P. Leary), lead players (J.T. Brown and Buddy Guy), and song-leaders/singers (Walter Horton and Otis Spann), all of whom were featured on many previous Chess recordings. It is a complete house band; had Fleetwood Mac not shown up on January 4, Chess Records still would have had the makings of a fine session. At the time, Fleetwood Mac included two guitarists, one slide guitarist, a bassist, and a drummer. This particular instrumentation is suitable for a standard Chess studio recording. Jeremy Spencer's Elmore James covers utilize slide guitar much as they would have on an original Elmore James and His Broomdusters recording. One who is not familiar with the playing styles of Green or Buddy Guy might mistake one for the other in tunes like “Red Hot

66 Ibid.

Jam.” These elements indicate that Moore's criteria for a suitable lineup has been met. There is no element of an authentic Chess recording that is left out. Moore also describes the use of particular instruments as affecting authenticity as well. “There is his [Weller's] instrumentation—a rock line-up which recalls the early 1970s—and a particular liking for using late 1960s model guitars, recalling the sound-world of Pete Townshend.”67 Moore is discussing modern music when he brings up Weller's “authentic” instrumentation, which might indicate that he equates older instruments with authenticity. Moore's concept of “feeling authentic” in a first-person sense, may also be enhanced simply by an artist's ability to choose one's own instruments, thereby ensuring that the artist achieves the sound he has rehearsed. While Peter Green, Danny Kirwan, and Jeremy Spencer all played top-of-the-line instruments for the recording of Blues Jam in Chicago (Peter Green is pictured with a 1959 Sunburst Gibson Les Paul, Danny Kirwan is pictured with a similar model Gold Top Les Paul), the Chess instrumentalists used older instruments. Willie Dixon played his upright bass during all of his performances with the group that day, whereas John McVie used his electric Fender P-bass for his performances. The point to this mention of Fleetwood Mac and the Chess house band's instrumentation is to follow in line with Moore's assumptions that the right musicians and the right instruments can lead to a more comfortable session, and a more authentic experience for the musician. In this sense, Blues Jam in Chicago has met Moore's criterion for authentic instrumentation. None of the players were wanting for equipment that would have made their experience more authentic. Moore explains that another characteristic of first-person authenticity is achieved when a performer exhibits a “clear line of descent from previous performers.”68 In this sense, Blues Jam in Chicago, along with the other case study albums, has achieved an element of first-person authenticity by its very nature: these albums are collaborations between an older and a younger generation of blues performers, thereby representing a clear line of decent from one generation to the other. What is important to the current study are

67 Moore, 223.

68 Moore, 212.

30 the choices that the members of Fleetwood Mac and the Chess players made in terms of which songs they decided to record, and with whom they played. Many different players switch in and out of the group at various times on Blues Jam in Chicago. Fleetwood Mac begins the session recording “Watch Out,” a Peter Green original, and “Ooh, Baby Hold Me,” a Howlin' Wolf tune, without accompaniment from the Chess musicians. Walter Horton then takes over vocal duties for a short set, adding harmonica to the complete Fleetwood Mac group. Horton leads them through several tunes, including “South Indiana” and “Last Night,” stopping several times along the way to help the group learn the songs. Peter Green and Buddy guy trade guitar licks on “Red Hot Jam,” and Guy can be heard telling Green beforehand, “Let's just see what kind of groove we can get into.”69 On these tunes, Green solos but often sits back to defer to the Chess artists. He turns the volume of his guitar down to let both Horton and Guy solo on “Red Hot Jam,” and weaves his guitar figures between their solo lines, playing with them as opposed to over them.70 This is another example of Green demonstrating his devotion to the musicians that had come before him, and whose music he loved. It is clear that Jeremy Spencer tried to spend as much time as possible recording with James's former band mates from the Broomdusters. His recordings in that sense not only share authentic instrumentation for the original James recordings, but they also share several of the same players. Spencer recorded nothing but James standards, including “I'm Worried,” “I Held My Baby Last Night,” “Madison Blues,” “I Can't Hold Out,” and “Bobby's Rock,” all with the former Broomdusters plus band mates Mick Fleetwood on drums and Danny Kirwan on rhythm guitar.71 It is interesting that Spencer wrote many Elmore-style tunes of his own, yet chose to pay homage to his main influence by playing covers. Instead of contributing his own songs at the Chess studio, he felt it more appropriate to record Chess standards demonstrating a line of descent from the artists who inspired him. Similarly, Green and Kirwan both mostly chose numbers that had been Chess Records hits

69 Peter Green, Mick Fleetwood, Danny Kirwan, John McVie, and Jeremy Spencer, Fleetwood Mac: Blues Jam in Chicago, recorded January 4, 1969, Sire, Blue Horizon, and Epic Records, 1969, CD. 70 Green et al., Fleetwood Mac: Blues Jam in Chicago. 71 Ibid.

31 for other artists, such as “Sugar Mama,” which is a Sonny Boy Williamson tune, or Kirwan’s cover of “World’s in a Tangle,” which was initially recorded by Eddie Boyd. These decisions by the Fleetwood Mac members suggest a desire to demonstrate a clear line of descent from the performers who had not only originated the sound, but who also wrote and recorded the same songs in the same studio. The last of Moore's characteristics of first-person authenticity involves the use of overdubs. Moore indicates that an “absolute minimum of overdubs” contributes to a recording's first person authenticity.72 When Moore discusses overdubs it is important to remember that he is referring to Paul Weller’s “Changingman,” which was released in 1995, a quarter of a century later than Blues Jam In Chicago. The recording industry had introduced overdubbing and multi-track recording into standard practice by the mid-1960s, and it would not have been outside the techniques of the day to multi-track much of the record. But the standard practice at Chess Records was to attempt to capture the sound of the band playing together live. It was in this spirit that Blues Jam in Chicago was recorded; there are no overdubs on the session recording as may be found in many other recordings of the day. What the listener hears is essentially what would have been played in real time. The performers were recorded much as they are pictured on the album cover: standing or seated facing one another as they play. All of the players on the album actually played and interacted with one another in the studio. In this way, Fleetwood Mac's collaboration with the Chess musicians might be described as having a high degree of first-person authenticity. Moore's concept of second-person authenticity involves authentication of the music or musicians by the listeners. This is particularly problematic to this examination in that Fleetwood Mac Blues Jam in Chicago was not promoted vigorously by Blue Horizon's financial partners in the U.K. or the United States, and consequently did not receive a special amount of attention from the music trade publications of the day. The recording is still considered a rarity that only the most diligent of Fleetwood Mac or Chess Records fans might own. However, the album is available for purchase online, where potential consumers have many opportunities to access the opinions of others. There is, for example, the professionally maintained Allmusic.com website, which has information on virtually every

72 Moore, 212.

32 record available for purchase in the U.S., many of which are reviewed by notable music critics. The 2013 All Music review of Blues Jam in Chicago states that “Green and company bring an edge to the proceedings, playing with the kind of muscle and unbridled energy associated with rock music....This is one of the finer snapshots of British blues-rock meeting its source.”73 Despite the fact that the anonymous reviewer makes the clear delineation of “blues-rock,” Blues Jam in Chicago has for him or her met the expectation of a well- performed collaboration. In cases where an album can only be purchased online, as is often the case with Blues Jam in Chicago, the only avenue for many listeners is Amazon.com. Though reviews are easily posted by anyone who takes the time to write one, there is a rich discussion available for those who would like to read the opinions of others before they purchasing a record. Frequent contributor and popular Amazon record reviewer Mark Barry had the following explanation for the puzzling acceptance of Blues Jam in Chicago: Fans greet the album itself with equal amounts of affection and disdain because at times it sounds like one long rehearsal—and a slightly uninspired and dull one at that. It's not that it’s bad—it just isn't red hot like you'd think it should have been. Highlights, however, include the lovely shuffle of "Watch Out", the harmonica driven slow blues of ‘Last Night’ and the slashing Elmore James riffs in "I Can't Hold Out" (lyrics above). ‘Bobby's Rock’ is a rubbishy extra, but Take 1 of ‘Horton's Boogie Woogie’ is fantastic—alive and kicking and worth the price of entry alone. I play it a lot and it picks me up every time. To sum up then—this is a 5 star presentation of a 3 to 4 star album—but there's still enough magic on here to recommend it. And for Mac and Blues fans, it's a necessity.74 Barry believes that though the album lacks the intensity or “fire” that it should have, given the high-profile players on the bill, it is still authentic enough blues for true Fleetwood Mac fans, or Chess Record fans, to include in their collection. Docendo Discimus addresses several of Moore's points of authenticity in his review:

73 Rovi, “Fleetwood Mac Blues Jam in Chicago,” accessed February 2013, http://www.allmusic.com/album/blues-jam-in-chicago-vol-1-mw0000764328. 74 Mark Barry, post to “Fleetwood Mac Blues Jam In Chicago,” February 2, 2009, review forum, Amazon.com, accessed February 2, 2013, http://www.amazon.com/Blues-Jam Chicago- FleetwoodMac/dp/B00030607Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1361544758&sr=8- 1&keywords=fleetwood+mac+blues+jam+in+chicago.

The original, Peter Green-led Fleetwood Mac plays some really competent Chicago blues on this fine album. Some of the young white blues enthusiasts of the period were so afraid to get it "wrong" that their music became a stale and overly cautious attempt at making a carbon copy of the real thing, and others just overdid it, maybe thinking that the blues was sure great, but if they tweaked it a little it would be even better. (It wasn't.) But Peter Green, Mick Fleetwood, John McVie, Jeremy Spencer, and Danny Kirwan got it right. Green's elegant lead guitar playing shows a real understanding of how blues music is created and played. He doesn't just replicate the latest Howlin' Wolf-single.75 Discimus's review points to issues of both first- and third-person authenticity when he discusses the “young, white musicians” and their propensity to “get it wrong.” His review is generally favorable toward Fleetwood Mac, indicating that his expectations of an authentic blues jam have been met. He even bestows Fleetwood Mac with his designation of “competent.” Philip Bradshaw had a similar but more charitable view of the recording than either of the previous two reviewers: These songs are generally better than competent and less than inspired. If you are a blues fan these four sides provide solid entertainment with moments of brilliance. Some complain that this double album sounds more like a rehearsal than it does a finished product. With the blues this isn't necessarily a bad thing. I have always felt that rough and ready are more appropriate for the genre than is polish. The idea of a bunch of musicians just strolling into a club or studio, picking up their instruments and jamming seems perfect.76 Currently, the consensus among online critics and listeners is that Blues Jam in Chicago is an essential inclusion in Fleetwood Mac's catalog. Several of the tracks—including “Sugar Mama,” “Last Night,” and “Madison Blues”—appear on Fleetwood Mac “Greatest Hits” albums and compilations. In producer Mike Vernon's estimation, the album is a valuable record of the band at one of their musical pinnacles.77

75 Docendo Discimus, post to “Fleetwood Mac Blues Jam In Chicago,” February 29, 2009, review forum, Amazon.com, accessed February 2, 2013, http://www.amazon.com/Blues-Jam Chicago- FleetwoodMac/dp/B00030607Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1361544758&sr=8- 1&keywords=fleetwood+mac+blues+jam+in+chicago. 76 Philip Bradshaw, post to “Fleetwood Mac Blues Jam In Chicago,” July 9, 2010, review forum, Amazon.com, accessed February 2, 2013, http://www.amazon.com/Blues-Jam-Chicago-Fleetwood- Mac/dp/B00030607Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1361544758&sr=8- 1&keywords=fleetwood+mac+blues+jam+in+chicago. 77 Vernon.

Generally, Blues Jam in Chicago garners mixed but fairly predictable reactions from listeners, which makes the identification of second-person authenticity difficult to assess. If a long jam session with rehearsal and multiple takes, interspersed with moments of musical brilliance signals an authentic experience, Blues Jam in Chicago has succeeded. If authentic blues comes from a well-rehearsed, polished performance, the record fails. The most complex of Moore's classification system is third-person authenticity. The idea is that performers achieve a measure of authenticity by demonstrating devotion to the musical tradition they aspire to join, possibly by gaining acceptance from recognized members of that tradition. This puts the members of Fleetwood Mac into the role of those who stand to be authenticated, with the Chess musicians placed in the role of the authenticators. Moore identifies several characteristics that can be used to assess a performer's third- person authenticity, the first of which the idea that a base of knowledge about the tradition in question better situates a performer to demonstrate devotion to that tradition. This idea is problematic in that it is difficult to determine how much knowledge and understanding each of the performers on Blues Jam in Chicago had of the traditions of the blues at the time. In some cases, one is able to get a good view of a performer's base of knowledge from a historical perspective. By examining the words of Green, one can, as Moore did when he quoted Clapton’s 1994 interview, determine for oneself whether the performer might have had the traditions and originators in mind when he recorded the song. Green was vocal— both onstage and offstage—about what inspired him as a blues musician. He discussed philosophies of the blues with other musicians he met and with whom he recorded, and he often joked onstage about how he seemed out of place playing blues tunes at all. To introduce a performance of B.B. King's “If You Let Me Love You” in 1970, Green said to the audience: This is a beautiful number. It’s an old B.B. King thing which I really enjoy doing. I really feel this one. Of course, it’s very simple to feel this one because, although it’s a blues, it’s called ‘If You Let Me Love You,’ and I can quite happily sing it to an audience you see. It’s not one of those ones where I have to dig up my old blues roots for. You know? It’s sort of…sort of an everyday thing.78

78 Peter Green, Mick Fleetwood, Danny Kirwan, John McVie, and Jeremy Spencer, Fleetwood Mac: Live

He makes the remark tongue-in-cheek, leading the audience to assume that he might have to find (or manufacture) some “old blues roots” somewhere within himself if the song was about some other subject matter that might be more race or generation specific. By looking at these and other examples of Green's words about old blues singers like Robert Johnson, one can effectively see that his understanding of the blues culture and tradition is fairly broad. Moore classifies Clapton as authentic via his base of knowledge in the aforementioned interview, and the fact that Green conscientiously chooses the songs to sing with a regard for his ability to convey the songwriter’s emotions indicates the same kind of authenticity. Therefore, by Moore's estimation, Green has achieved third-person authenticity with his Blues Jam in Chicago performances. With regard to third-person authenticity, Moore's point about the “matter of ideology to employ the blues within a thoroughly different social context” must be explored further. 79 Moore is aware that the “different social context” in which British musicians in the 1960s employed the blues is not the social context in which the blues originated (i.e. slavery, Jim Crow, segregation, etc) . Furthermore, Moore recognizes that it is a spot of contention to be carefully navigated. He writes that the authenticity that Clapton and others achieved via this displaced employment of the blues is only an “appropriated authenticity.”80 By using this phrase, Moore indicates that Eric Clapton and Robert Johnson do not share a common authenticity; Clapton and the other British musicians create their own tradition. There is no mention as to whether Johnson would have found Clapton's interpretation of “Crossroads” to be authentic within Johnson's own tradition of the blues. Between artists of such disparate generations, such things are obviously impossible to assess. However, in the case of Blues Jam in Chicago, some of the originators of the sound that Fleetwood Mac had been appropriating were present in the room, participating in their session. This might indicate a high level of third-person authenticity—it is difficult to imagine, for example, J.T. Brown

in Boston, Vol. 3, recorded February 5-7, 1970, Snapper Records, 2000, CD, track 2, 5:22; Greens’ introduction to “If You Let Me Love You” (Track 3), is included on the end of “Sandy Mary,” Track 2. 79 Moore, 215. 80 Ibid.

36 performing saxophone solos like he does in Spencer's rendition of “Madison Blues” if he did not approve of Spencer's ode to Elmore James. On the other hand, every one of the house musicians at Chess was a professional musician, and would be sure to show up at the studio if there was money to be made. Chess drummer Sam Lay explained to an interviewer that the reason he left Muddy Waters’s band to play with Paul Butterfield was that in a white act like Butterfield’s, he could earn three times more money per gig.81 Having made that point, it is unlikely that a player of Lay's quality would have left Waters for a band that he did not enjoy playing in. Just as in the case of some of the well-received blues on Butterfield recordings, the collaborations between Chess musicians and Fleetwood Mac members on January 4, 1969 yielded performances that are indicative of high energy, cooperation, and fun. In moments of banter among the musicians of different races, generations, and nationalities, the overriding feeling is one of camaraderie. Willie Dixon often jokes with members of Fleetwood Mac, at one point offering his upright bass to McVie, asking him if he is sure he knows how to play it.82 They laugh often and the recording proceeds smoothly, with the exception of a few miscommunications between Vernon and Horton, who cannot seem to recall Vernon’s name and opts instead to talk mainly to engineer Stu Black. According to Vernon, however, Horton was still very agreeable, and though he was drinking alcohol for most of his portion of the recording, he was having fun jamming with his new companions.83 At one point between takes of “Red Hot Jam,” Vernon asks Horton why he wants to play a particular selection and Horton replies, “This one’s for me, Baby…if you don’t mind it!”84 To a certain extent, Fleetwood Mac played that day with their authenticity on the line. They were aware that if the jam session ended with positive results, an album would be released for fans to hear, but more importantly, the members of Fleetwood Mac knew that their idols at Chess records would be listening. Fleetwood Mac responded by recording performances that give the appearance that they were in the moment as they attempted to

81 Paul Trynka, Portrait of The Blues (New York, NY: Da Capo Press, 1996), 126. 82 Green et al., Fleetwood Mac: Blues Jam in Chicago. 83 Mike Vernon, e-mail message to author, February 12, 2013. 84 Green et al., Fleetwood Mac: Blues Jam in Chicago, track 18.

37 communicate expression to their audience. The album is greeted by some listeners as a trifle long-winded, but generally regarded as authentic blues. Most listeners tend to authenticate the performance, giving it what Moore might describe as a high level of second-person authenticity. Fleetwood Mac's understanding of the blues tradition and the clear acceptance of the younger generation, by the older generation further authenticates the group in terms of third-person authenticity. All of the aforementioned elements point toward a high level of authenticity achieved by Fleetwood Mac and their collaborators.

CHAPTER 3

THE LONDON HOWLIN' WOLF SESSIONS

Chester Arthur Burnett was born near West Point, Mississippi in 1910. Burnett was raised in a religious environment and sang in the local gospel choir as a child, but it wasn't the music of the church that gave him his sense of musical direction. As a young man in rural Mississippi, Burnett was fascinated by the sounds of a country blues musician named Charley Patton who lived and worked just one plantation away. Patton's voice was raw and powerful and his performances were wild and entertaining. He would sing and play with his guitar behind his head and between his legs, and he would crawl around onstage and howl at the audience.85 He played his guitar in a hard, physical manner as if it were more of a percussion instrument than a string instrument.86 The result was a raw and rhythmic style that had a big influence on Burnett as a young man. Some of Patton's music was devotional in nature, but the lyrics of his traditional blues songs spoke of the troubles of love between men and women, hard times, and the little pay that was standard fare for black men in the South. More important to Burnett were Patton's lyrics, which spoke of freedom—Patton still worked on farms in the daytime, but at night he was a star. Patton was signed to Paramount Records; he had a car and played shows in juke joints all over the South from Friars Point, Mississippi to Nashville; he drank corn liquor, combed his hair into a coif, and dressed in new suits; he was married eight times and once a jealous husband had tried to kill him unsuccessfully by cutting his throat; he was a real bluesman.87 Burnett succeeded in getting close to him and he spent some time under Patton's tutelage in the 1930s. Patton taught Burnett a little bit of the guitar, but mostly he taught Burnett what it meant to be a bluesman. He brought Burnett to shows with him and

85 Barlow, 35. 86 Ibid. 87 Barlow, 35.

39 introduced him to other influential players like Son House and Robert Johnson.88 He enchanted Burnett with his music and his romantic life. Burnett soon gave up share-cropping to go out on the road like his idol. Burnett was a big man, imposing at 6'3” and over 270 pounds. His nickname back on the farm was “Bull Cow” or “Big Feet Chester.”89 It wouldn't be until he relocated to Memphis that he would adopt his new moniker, “The Howlin' Wolf.” It isn't clear whether his distinctive “howling” vocals came as a result of his nickname, or if it was the other way around.90 What is clear is that Burnett fit the nickname and stood out as an intelligent, successful loner in a business that was known for taking advantage of “country folk” just off the train from the South. His size made him an intimidating presence, and his natural intelligence made him a shrewd businessman. He stood up for himself and he stood up for his band, which was a rarity in the uncertain world of show business. Wolf acquired a spot hosting an afternoon Memphis radio show on KWEM and his notoriety began to grow. His voice had become more powerful than Patton's had ever been, and he had adopted many of Patton's stage antics to full effect, making his stage show one of the most entertaining in Memphis. It wasn't long before aspiring producer Sam Phillips sought him out in order to record his unique sound.91 In 1951 Phillips recorded Wolf's first R&B single entitled “Moanin' At Midnight.” Phillips sold the single to Chess Records. Chess re-released it in the Chicago market, where it quickly became a big selling single.92 The Chess brothers persuaded Wolf to leave the South and join the Chess Records family in Chicago. Wolf eventually became one of the definitive acts for the Chicago Blues sound. No other artist aside from Muddy Waters embodies the Chicago blues like Howlin' Wolf. Memphis had been an essential starting point for Wolf, however, if not for the introduction to Sam Phillips, then certainly for the introduction to Hubert Sumlin. Sumlin

88 Giles Oakley, The Devil's Music: A History of the Blues (London, UK: British Broadcasting Company [BBC,] 1976), 55. 89 Paul Trynka, 188. 90 Ibid. 91 Barlow, 331. 92 Ibid.

40 was a young guitarist who, like Wolf, had recently moved to Memphis from Mississippi. Wolf could play a little guitar, and he could play a little harp, but he was mostly a vocalist and a front man. He needed strong accompaniment, which he found in the capable hands of Sumlin.93 Sumlin was a generation younger than Wolf and his blues sensibilities came less from the farm than they did from the urban streets. Sumlin was born in 1931 making Burnett twenty one years his senior. His virtuosic lead guitar playing was vibrant and expressive— an exciting accompaniment to Wolf's substantially more “country” feel. Sumlin became Wolf's right-hand man and traveled with him to Chicago. Sumlin played on most of Wolf's recordings throughout his life and even accompanied him on a trip to the U.K. to record with some of Great Britain's up-and-coming blues musicians in 1971. Eric Clapton was born in London in 1945 to an unwed sixteen-year-old girl who, in the social context of the times, had little choice but to give him to her parents to raise. It was a common custom at the time for the grandparents to raise such a child as their own in order to avoid the social stigma associated with unwed motherhood. Clapton did not discover that the woman whom he had known as his older sister was in truth, his mother, until he was nine years old.94 Though he had been raised as his grandparents’ son, he was still regarded as a black sheep by other members of the family. All of these factors contributed to an environment in which Clapton grew up feeling isolated.95 He sought refuge in early blues records, such as the Robert Johnson collection King of the Delta Blues. At the age of fifteen, his uncle gave him a used guitar as a gift, and he spent countless hours imitating the blues licks he heard Johnson and others play.96 The British Blues Boom arrived in earnest while Clapton was attending art college in the early 1960s, and the blues guitar skills he'd been perfecting made him a popular musician with the in-crowd of blues players in London. He replaced Anthony “Top” Topham in the Yardbirds in 1963, when the mother of seventeen-year-old Topham told him he couldn't go

93 James Segrest and Mark Hoffman, Moanin' at Midnight: The Life and Times of Howlin' Wolf (New York, NY: Thunder's Mouth Press, 2004), 106. 94 Eric Clapton, Clapton: The Autobiography (New York, NY: Broadway Books, 2007), 19. 95 Ibid. 96 Ibid, 34.

41 on tour with the band.97 With the new blues scene gaining strength and the addition of Clapton's skilled lead playing, the Yardbirds shot to popularity. By the time he was nineteen, Clapton had acquired not only fame, but also a certain amount of critical acclaim with blues aficionados on both sides of the Atlantic. When the Yardbirds hosted Sonny Boy Williamson II in late 1963, Clapton got his first try at accompanying a Chess Records master. By the time he quit the Yardbirds in 1965 to join John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, graffiti proclaiming “Clapton is God” littered buildings across Great Britain. Clapton played with several different groups throughout the latter half of the 1960s, coming to a catharsis with three albums recorded in 1970: On Tour with Dalaney and Bonnie & Friends, Eric Clapton, and Layla & Other Assorted Love Songs. On these recordings he played exclusively with American musicians, and his music gained a sense of identity that it may have previously lacked. His seminal singles—such as “Blues Power,” “Bell Bottom Blues,” and “Layla”—all come from this period. During the late 1960s, American producer and engineer Norman Dayron had been trying to organize a collaboration between some of the famed Chess Records masters and the young British musicians who'd been playing their music for so long. He had previously produced the well-received Fathers and Sons album, which featured Chess luminary Muddy Waters collaborating with younger and white Chicago musicians Paul Butterfield and Mike Bloomfield. For the project with the British musicians, Dayron wanted recognizable superstars—he wanted Clapton. He first asked Clapton if he'd be amenable to working with Wolf during a Cream tour in the U.S. in 1968.98 Clapton agreed, but Dayron wasn't able to synchronize everyone's work schedules until May of 1970, when he was sure he could get Wolf to the U.K. during a time that Clapton would be there. Dayron asked Clapton to enlist a few backing musicians who would be available at the time, and Clapton found Charlie

97 Ibid. 98 Bill Dahl’s liner notes include the story of the inception of the record as related by Norman Dayron. Dayon is quoted as saying that his first conversation with Clapton was in “69 or early 70” (pg 4.) He also lists other groups on the bill of a concert in San Francisco during which the conversation took place; they include Cream, Paul Butterfield Blues Band, and guitarist Mike Bloomfield’s side project Electric Flag. He says that Clapton and Bloomfield specifically were hanging out backstage. Cream’s last concerts were in November 1968. Also, Mike Bloomfield had quit both Butterfield Blues Band and Electric Flag by June 1968. It is likely that Dayron is correct about the musicians present, the location, and probably the bands on the bill, but mistaken about the date he was already unsure of.

Watts and Bill Wyman from The Rolling Stones. They brought Ian Stewart, sometimes known as the “Sixth Stone,” to play piano. Unfortunately, Watts and Wyman weren’t able to arrive until the second day of recording on May 4, so Dayron was forced to put out a city- wide call for a rhythm section. Wolf was a legendary bluesman and many notable performers came by to see if they might sit in to play or just watch.99 Former Beatle Ringo Starr and bassist Klaus Voorman filled in for the first day of recording. After Watts and Wyman arrived, they performed on all of the remaining tracks on the album.100 Multi- instrumentalist and singer Steve Winwood is featured on the album as well, though his keyboard parts were overdubbed later, a factor of first-person authenticity, which will be addressed later. Before subjecting The London Howlin Wolf Sessions to Moore's typology of authenticity, several major differences between the two records must be addressed. First, Wolf performs all of the vocals on the London Sessions while many different singers perform on Blues Jam in Chicago. Also while Blues Jam in Chicago was performed and recorded in one day (January 4, 1969), The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions was recorded in four separate sessions over the course of six days (May 2, 4, 6, and 7 of 1970.) These will be important factors when Wolf’s level of comfort performing in the studio is examined. Another factor that may prove to be the most important, especially in terms of first- and third-person authenticity, involves the presence of overdubs. While Blues Jam in Chicago is a live recording, completely free of overdubs, the Wolf record features performances from many musicians who were not present with the band at the initial session, and who may never have even met Wolf or Clapton, much less played with one or the other. It is also worthwhile to mention the fact that a role reversal has taken place between Blues Jam In Chicago and The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions: where Blues Jam in Chicago featured a younger and white Fleetwood Mac playing over the presumably authentic Chess players as side men, in the London Sessions the authentic Chess artist must front the group of young white sidemen.

99 Dahl, 8. 100 Ibid.

The first aspect of Moore’s concept of first-person authenticity under examination is the performance of the vocals. As noted, Wolf is the sole vocal performer on The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions. What is important to the examination of authenticity is the fact that during this particular part of Wolf’s life he was very ill. Dahl’s retelling of Dayron’s words is quoted at length: Pushing 60 years of age, Wolf was not in the best of health, suffering from heart and kidney problems. “I went originally and met with his two doctors to see if it was responsible or feasible to take him on the trip. They okayed it. They said, ‘He loves to work. He’s actually healthier when he works than when he doesn’t work, because he’s doing what he loves to do. But you’ve got to make sure that he takes all his medications,’ which was a huge amount of little yellow pill bottles that he was taking,” says Dayron, “I knew he was not strong, and I knew that the trip had taken something out of him. I knew it was going to be up to me to get whatever I could, and I really didn’t know that I would ever get a record out of it.101 This is a crucial story if one is to assess the attitudes and feelings of the musicians at the recording session. The explanation of Wolf’s poor health lends itself to several issues within Moore’s concept of authenticity, which will be identified shortly. As previously mentioned, the performance of the vocalist is one of the paramount concerns in Moore’s concept of first-person authenticity. Just as in Moore’s discussion of Paul Weller’s ability to achieve unmediated expression, Wolf must now be put to the test. As a reminder, first-person authenticity is determined by the level of confidence that the artist has in his or her own performance. For many Howlin’ Wolf fans, it is difficult to imagine that Wolf would have been as proud of his vocal takes on The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions as he was of any of the performances on the original recordings. All of the selections on The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions are re-recordings of songs that Wolf had previously recorded at Chess. Each of Wolf’s vocal performances on the London Sessions, if compared directly to the Chess original, suffers by comparison in terms of energy and emotional content. On the London Sessions recordings Wolf sounds tired and clearly affected by his illness. If one were to present the songs according to the order in which they were recorded, with “I Ain’t Superstitious” recorded on May 2 first, it can be shown that Wolf’s energy improves over the course of the four sessions, but even at his most energized during the

101 Dahl, 6.

44 lengthy last day of recording on May 7 the performances of “Who’s Been Talking?” “Worried About My Baby,” and “What a Woman” (originally recorded as “Commit a Crime”) do little to recall the sound, the feeling, and thus the unmediated expression that Wolf was able to achieve just a decade earlier. It is an interesting point to note that Dayron, not Wolf, chose the numbers to be recorded. He took suggestions from Wolf and the band, but ultimately Dayron had most of the control over what would be performed, and certainly what would be used for the released album.102 In the case of Fleetwood Mac, producer Mike Vernon relinquished control, and simply recorded what the musicians chose to play. This lack of control could surely affect an artist’s ability to achieve unmediated expression with an audience. There are many listeners who associate less-than-perfect vocals with a measure of authenticity in blues music. Charley Patton’s fans, for example, did not come to hear him sing every note perfectly. It might be just as well to some listeners that Wolf sounds tired and ill for most of the London Sessions recording. For some, the fact that he sounds old and tired may lend its own authenticity to his performance of songs like “Going Down Slow,” which is largely about getting sick and dying. I have had my fun, if I never get well no more, I have had my fun, if I never get well no more. Oh my health is fadin' on me, oh yes I'm goin' down slow.103 In 1972, Wolf recorded a live concert in Chicago with a band of his usual Chess regulars entitled Live & Cookin (At Alice’s Revisited). One of his last recorded live performances, the album showcases a version of Howlin’ Wolf who sounds ill, and is growing old, but who is still energized and expressive. If one were to compare the performances on Live & Cookin’ to those on London Sessions with an ear toward unmediated expression, one would find that in the Chicago setting, with his usual musicians, Wolf comes much closer to the version of the blues for which he had become known.

102 Dahl, 9. 103 Chester A. Burnett, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions, recorded January 4, 1969, Rolling Stones/Chess Records, 1971.

With regard to Moore’s next point about the choice of quality backing musicians, one confronts an interesting paradox. In the case of The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions, the backing musicians were chosen specifically for their quality as blues players (if not by Dayron, then by Clapton). But when one looks at the kind of unmediated expression that is normal for a standard Wolf performance, it is usually accompanied by the low-profile sidemen from Chicago. It begs the question: with what combination of musicians would Wolf himself have chosen to record? It is possible that he liked the idea of a collaborative jam session and would have chosen from a variety of blues players from both continents. It is possible that he enjoyed the session so much he would like to have fired his Chicago backing men and kept the British group. It is also possible that Wolf's idea of good blues was to continue playing with his usual Chicago band, which is what he did. What is clear is that Wolf found it easy to express himself both on stage and in the recording studio with his usual Chicago sidemen. It is also clear that it took him quite a while—several days at the least—to get comfortable enough with his new surroundings and new backing musicians to deliver a convincing performance.104 These points about Howlin' Wolf's difficulty attaining his usual level of unmediated expression indicate what Moore might classify as a performance from Wolf that has a fairly low level of first-person authenticity. Moore’s next point about instrumentation is more useful when applied to the first- person authenticity of the backing musicians, since Wolf plays little guitar on the record. Sumlin can be heard playing with a tone similar to that on his Chess recordings, which indicates the use of one of his usual setups: a Gibson guitar run through a overdriven tube amplifier with no reverb. Clapton who was experimenting with a similar style of tone, had given up the use of a Gibson guitar and loud Marshall amplifier for the more intimate sound of a Fender Stratocaster and a small Fender Champ Reverb amplifier.105 His sound on The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions is similar to the bright and reverb-laden sounds of his contemporary records, Eric Clapton with Delaney & Bonnie and Friends, Eric Clapton, and Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. It’s fair to say that both guitarists—indeed, all of the musicians present at The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions recording—were equipped with their

104 Dahl, 12. 105 Burnett.

46 standard instrumentation for that time period. This indicates what can only be seen as a high degree of first-person authenticity in terms of instrumentation. In terms of devotion to the line of descent from previous artists, The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions recordings do not stray far from their original Chess Records counterparts. Included on the London Sessions record is a section of studio dialogue among the players as they discuss how Wolf would like them to play “Little Red Rooster.” He explains how to play it as he demonstrates on his own acoustic guitar and the group follows along. Clapton suggests that Wolf play guitar with them instead of just singing as he had been doing. Dayron and several other players agree, and Wolf disputes for a moment before conceding, though his guitar playing is not included in the final cut.106 This is an interesting moment in the record that will be examined in further detail in the section on third-person authenticity, and it points to what Dayron calls an “ice breaking moment…because they extended themselves to him, Eric did. By sort of submitting to Wolf, it broke the ice, and he got nicer. At that point, the space opened up. There was room for them to create something.”107 Moore discusses how an “absolute minimum of overdubs” is a major indicator of authenticity.108 This is one of the major differences between the Fleetwood Mac record and the Wolf record. Recording engineers like Les Paul discovered that one could record on only part of the tape—even just a thin strip—leaving the rest of the unused tape for other instruments. This is the kind of overdubbing that allows a single musician to record several consecutive tracks, stopping only when one has run out of tape width. In the case of The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions, it is this technology that allows musicians who have never been in the same room as one another to appear on the same recording. A producer can use part of the tape for one musician or group, take the tape away and have another musician record over another part, which occurred frequently during the London Sessions. It may be surprising to many who buy the record to find that Steve Winwood, who is featured prominently on the cover and in advertisements of the record, was not present for

106 Koda, “The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions.” 107 Dahl, 12. 108 Moore, 212.

47 the initial recording. Dayron had to have him add his tracks later.109 Much of the time, Ian Stewart’s initial piano performances are subsumed by Winwood’s takes, if not completely replaced by them. Chess pianist Lafayette Leake is also overdubbed over some of Stewart’s performances, and Chess bassist Phil Upchurch takes over on one of Wyman’s tracks.110 In this sense, The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions is more of a programmed album than it is a free jam session like Blues Jam In Chicago. In the liner notes, Dayron only glosses over his reasoning for the overdubs: “I came back and told the guys, the musicians at Chess, ‘I’ve got the making of a record here, but I’m not fully satisfied with it. And I don’t have an opportunity to go back to England and get these guys and drag them back and kind of make them do new things. Can you redo this part here?’”111 Several tracks are included on the Deluxe Edition re-release that had failed to make the final cut of the original release in 1971. After some reorganization of the tracks, one can easily line up the additional rehearsal takes with the final product. In the cases of “I Ain’t Superstitious” and “What A Woman,” the listener is presented with three versions of each song—the first and second are either a “Rehearsal take” or an “Alternate take,” and the third is the “Original Mix,” which means that it is the mixed down, overdubbed version that appears on the original 1971 release. In both these instances, the listener is able to hear the mix with Stewart playing piano in the studio, and the mix without him after he has been dubbed over by Winwood. All instances horn section represent dubs recorded later by musicians who were not initially in the studio. These features are in conflict with what Moore would describe as a recording that “utilizes and absolute minimum of overdubs.”112 In this sense, the ability of the musicians at the session to achieve Moore’s “unmediated expression” is called into question.113 In order to determine the feelings of those playing, one may only consider the recordings that feature a full group with no overdubs. Otherwise, authenticity of the group performance is

109 Dahl, 17. 110 Ibid. 111 Ibid, 18. 112 Moore, 212. 113 Ibid.

48 impossible to assess. It is possible that Wolf would have felt and played differently if he knew that the group in front of him might be augmented or reduced in the final mix. It is also possible that the backing players, especially Stewart, would have felt and played differently if they had known that they might be substituted. Furthermore, one discovers that one must address the level of unmediated expression (and, therewith, first-person authenticity) achieved by the substitute musicians as it relates to the authenticity of the final product. Steve Winwood is advertised as being a part of the group; he is, as mentioned above, featured prominently on the cover. Therefore, his performances surely have a large part in the record as a whole. This may indicate that a musician whose performances didn’t make it on to the final record, but who was there at the initial session (like Stewart), made a smaller contribution to the authenticity of the whole. Whether or not that is true, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions fails to meet Moore's qualification for an absolute minimum of overdubs, which thereby characterizes the performance as less authentic. Second-person authenticity involves the authentication of a performer or performance by the listener. Listeners tend to be polarized over the London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions. Some Wolf fans find that his performances lack the vigor of his previous versions of the same songs. This would seem to cause the performance to rate extremely low in Moore’s typology for second-person authenticity. Yet, as previously mentioned, it is Wolf's only album to chart in Billboard’s Top 100. It is an enormously popular blues record. This popularity can be attributed, if not to the quality of the performances, then surely to the advertisement of a collaboration by high-profile musicians. The critical response to The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions has been mixed. In the 2013 Allmusic.com review of the Deluxe Re-issue of the album, Cub Koda wrote this: For the casual blues fan with a scant knowledge of the Wolf, this 1971 pairing, with Eric Clapton, Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts from the Rolling Stones, Ringo Starr, and other British superstars, appears on the surface to be one hell of a super session. But those lofty notions are quickly dispelled once you slip this disc into the player and hit play. While it's nowhere near as awful as some blues purists make it out to be, the disparity of energy levels between the Wolf and his U.K. acolytes is not only palpable but downright depressing. Wolf was a very sick man at this juncture and Norman Dayron's non-production idea of just doing remakes of earlier Chess classics is wrongheaded in the extreme. The rehearsal snippet of Wolf trying to teach the band how to play Willie Dixon's "Little Red Rooster" shows just how far off the mark the whole concept of this rock superstar mélange truly is. Even Eric Clapton, who usually welcomes any chance to play with one of

his idols, has criticized this album repeatedly in interviews, which speaks volumes in and of itself.114 Koda’s point about the disparity between the energy levels of Wolf versus the British musicians goes directly to Moore’s concept of unmediated expression, though the most telling aspect of Koda’s review is the section where he points to Clapton’s own reservations about the record. If Clapton doesn’t believe in the music on the record, it clearly suffers from a lack of Clapton’s first person authenticity. In addition, the album has failed to present a convincing picture of the blues to Koda. His listening of the album did not reflect what he knew to be true of the musical capabilities of both Wolf and the British backing musicians. Koda’s perception is that the performance as a whole suffers from a lack of passion and, therefore, unmediated expression. In this case, the performance fails to meet Moore's standard for second-person authenticity. The perception of others is particularly difficult to examine for the albums in this study, simply because there is little academic work focused these recordings. While The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions is available in record stores with more comprehensive blues sections, it is far easier to find on Amazon.com. The Amazon.com comment reviews for the Wolf record prove just as revealing as those written for Fleetwood Mac. In fact, several of the same listeners posted reviews for both albums. Docendo Discimus had this to say about the London Sessions: …the often presented claim that these recordings lack the gritty power of his original Chess sides certainly has some truth to it. But that doesn't mean that "The London Sessions" is a waste of time...Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts form a very convincing bluesy rhythm section, 19-year-old Jeffrey Carp was a tremendous harmonica player, and Eric Clapton refrains from any kind of psychedelic blues- rock excesses like the ones which irreparably destroyed Muddy Waters' completely superfluous "Electric Mud" album (and Wolf's own "This Is Howlin' Wolf's New Album", which he himself detested with a vengeance)….Howlin' Wolf's hoarse voice doesn't quite have the power it did just a few years earlier, but he still sings with conviction and lots of authority, and while this deluxe edition is probably too much for the casual fan, it does have lot of stuff which should interest serious Wolf fans. And the band actually do play the blues...a lot of rock drummers just can't do that, but Charlie Watts is totally convincing, as is the young harpist Carp and of course Wolf's own right hand man, the great Hubert Sumlin….This is not the place to start your Wolf collection (always start with the

114 Koda, “The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions.”

classic Chess stuff!), but certainly not one to shy away from, either. Not everybody needs to own this two-disc edition, but the London Sessions are definitely worth a listen. "The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions" lack the incredible raw power of Wolf's early sides, but it's an interesting document for Wolf fans anyway.115 The review seems to confirm some of Moore’s elements of authenticity that have been previously addressed. When Discimus writes that Watts and Wyman form “a very convincing blues rhythm section,” he has unconsciously addressed Moore’s concept of second-person authenticity in the affirmative. Watts and Wyman’s performances are convincing to Doscimus, therefore Watts and Wyman have succeeded in their efforts at first- person authenticity and the performance (of the rhythm section, at least) is doubly authenticated. When Discimus lauds Clapton in his efforts to “refrain from psychedelic blues-rock excesses,” he addresses a familiar point about British blues musician’s reverence in an attempt to stay truthful to the tradition of the blues. This will be discussed further in the section on third-person authenticity. Finally, Discimus gives the British musicians the ultimate stamp of authenticity when he writes that “the band actually do play the blues.” His indication here is one of obvious approval of the British musicians. His review of Wolf, however, is less favorable; his opinion regarding Wolf’s performance is one of disappointment. He is sure to offer his advice to casual listeners that The London Sessions is not where they should begin listening to Howlin’ Wolf. This indicates what could be described as a low level of second-person authenticity. Wolf, who failed to meet Discimus’ expectations, did not present a convincing performance that “validates the listener’s experience of life,” and “tells it like it is for him.”116 The perspective on third-person authenticity offers an entirely different picture of The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions than did either of the previous examinations. If one is to take third-person authenticity in this case to mean the acceptance of the younger generation of blues players by the older generation, (i.e. “the acquisition of an authentic mode of expression from those whose possession it is,”) it is clear that Wolf represents the older

115 Discimus. 116 Moore, 220.

51 generation (the authenticator), while Clapton and the British players represent the new generation (those whose performance stands to be authenticated).117 By Moore’s definition, Wolf has the power to authenticate or dis-authenticate their performance. According to Dayron and Clapton, the British musicians went through several different experiences with Wolf’s [dis]approval of their efforts. During the first days of the recording, both Dayron and Clapton expressed doubts as to whether the project was going to work at all. Wolf had seemed disagreeable and withdrawn from the process. Additionally, Clapton had a great deal of respect for guitarist Hubert Sumlin. Bill Dahl assumes that some of Clapton’s reservations might come from confusion over his role in the project; with Sumlin there, what did Wolf need Clapton for?118 Dayron tells the story of Clapton relating one of his first experiences with Wolf: ‘Eric really was having difficulty finding a place in that band, and Wolf was being kind of hostile, which surprised me. I should have known better—he was a pretty aggressive guy, and he wasn’t feeling all that good,’ says Norman. ‘That first day, Eric said to me, ‘Man, I don’t even know if I want to come back tomorrow! This is hard. The guy grabbed me. He put his arm around me. I thought he was gonna kill me!’”119 Wolf’s aggression was a palpable force in the recording studio. Not only is this indicative of a somewhat negative view of the performance’s third-person authenticity, but it also raises questions as to the players’ ability to achieve first-person authenticity in such a hostile environment. It is difficult to sit in and play with a master of the genre under any circumstances, let alone those wherein the master doesn’t want to be there. In the Howlin' Wolf biography Moanin' at Midnight, authors James Segrest and Mark Hoffman relay a story from producer Norman Dayron that further indicates some of the mood that Wolf brought with him to the studio, and the production style with which Dayron chose to handle it. Dayron went to visit Wolf in his hotel room and noticed an empty whiskey bottle. Wolf's doctors had ordered him not to drink and Dayron chided him: I think because there was nobody else in the room but him and me, he could finally just face up to the truth. And he got sheepish and sort of hung his huge

117 Ibid, 218. 118 Dahl, 10. 119 Ibid, 9.

head and said, ‘Alright, alright, alright, Mr. Norman. I won't do that.’ I had to get him to stop saying ‘Mr. Norman.’ It was like a Mr. Charlie thing and I think he used it to put me down. I finally said, ‘You better just call me Norman, motherfucker!’ Then I asked him how he'd feel if I called him ‘nigger.’ It put a big smile on his face because he got the point....He had a lot of dignity and it was like, you don't fuck with Howlin' Wolf's dignity or you get your ass handed to you.120 This is another powerful story that indicates an interesting perspective of Wolf. It seems to confirm some of the representations that Wolf would rather have been somewhere else, doing something else. Segrest and Hoffman go on to explain the difficulty of interpreting Wolf's moods. One minute he would be seething at the young, white musicians who were making millions of dollars covering his songs, for which he still only received two cents per record, the next he'd be patting the young men on the back and telling journalists that they treated him like a king.121 Eventually, notes Dayon, Wolf warmed up to his colleagues. He tells the aforementioned story of the teaching of “Little Red Rooster” as an “ice-breaker” of sorts. His contention is that by submitting to Wolf and asking him for help, Clapton made Wolf more comfortable with making his own musical choices and being himself. Clapton and the rest of the group’s encouragement and assurance of their respect for the man made him feel as though he could take over the lead for the session.122 Of course, Dayron tells a somewhat romantic story of a sick, crotchety old master coming to a certain level of acceptance with his young followers—seeing them first as upstarts, then as the ones to whom he might pass the mantle of the blues. The reality is probably far more mundane: Wolf probably did feel better recording with these men than he had the day before, and the British musicians picked up on it. A certain ease is reflected in the music recorded after the “Little Red Rooster” moment. As previously mentioned, those recordings do seem more energized and in sync than the recordings made on May 2 and May 4. It is possible, however, that this is simply indicative of a new group having their first day together, experiencing a lineup change, and then slowly getting better. In terms of the British

120 Segrest and Hoffman, 271. 121 Ibid. 122 Dahl, 9.

53 musicians and their own feelings about playing alongside one of the originators of their sound, they were quite nervous, recalls Dayron: “I was kind of naïve about what I needed to do to have these English guys comfortable. I didn’t think they would be so intimidated by Wolf. Very stupid of me, because they were.”123 Moore already addressed his feelings of the authenticity of Clapton’s interpretations of the blues in his description of third-person authenticity. It can be assumed that Clapton's knowledge of blues history and philosophy would carry over to a performance with Howlin’ Wolf, just as it had with his reinterpretation of Robert Johnson with Cream. The question must answer more, however, than whether Clapton can identify the roots of this music, whether he can interpret Johnson’s lyrics and emotions accurately. Moore does not delve into some of the more racially charged aspects of authenticity, which are essential to the understanding of blues music and culture, especially in the United States. One cannot truly understand the blues from origins to meaning if one does not understand American racial politics. Moore sidesteps several crucial points when he writes: For Clapton, for Peter Green, and to a lesser extent for guitarists like Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page, the search for the musical soul of blues singers like Robert Johnson was propelled by a desire to appropriate the 'unmediated expression' which was thought to be the preserve of the country blues style, entailing an unquestioned assumption that African Americans in the southern USA were somehow more 'natural' beings than white, college-educated Londoners.124 The comment is isolated in Moore’s article, and nowhere does he further explain what he means. The first element of the comment that must be questioned is “thought to be the preserve of the country blues style.” Nowhere does Moore address the British players’ ability to represent that style accurately. He writes that they only had the perception of the style they were trying appropriate, implying that their perception may have been inaccurate. In the next portion of the sentence, Moore further implies that there is more to the picture than what he describes. When he writes of an “unquestioned assumption that African Americans in the southern USA were somehow more natural beings than white college educated Londoners,” he refers to the possibility that the British appropriators not only

123 Dahl, 8. 124 Moore, 215.

54 lacked real understanding of the originators of their music, but that their views of them were generalized and vaguely racist. However, Moore does go further into the question of authenticity. After defining the problem as one of origins, Moore finally concludes: “[The] disruption of continuity through geographical and social mobility requires the fabrication of a secure ground, a conceptual (if not historical) point of origin.”125 He writes that it “is no great distance from this 'appropriation' to the actual invention of a tradition in order to authenticate contemporary practices.”126 What this means to the present study is that, by Moore’s conception, whether or not Clapton and his version of the blues would be accepted by the originators of the tradition, Clapton and the other British musicians have invented their own traditions (or their own connections to a fabricated tradition) sufficiently to play with an appropriate level of first-person authenticity. Moore does not assert that Clapton’s playing of Johnson’s song is authentic—he simply argues that Clapton assumed it was, and that is worth something. But he also asserts that Clapton’s assumptions about the people who had created this music were broad and ultimately inaccurate. Despite its popularity, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions yields generally negative results in terms of Moore's typology for authenticity. It is clear that neither Wolf nor his collaborators succeeded in achieving the kind of expression for which Moore's concept calls. Through stories from participants, it is apparent that Wolf spent much of the time resenting the experience for one reason or another. Clapton and the backing players sensed his disapproval and did not feel or play as well as they could have. These aspects indicate what Moore would describe as a low level of first-person authenticity. Just as is the case with Blues Jam in Chicago, listener comments and critical reviews of the album are mixed. However, unlike the Fleetwood Mac record, which boasts mostly favorable reviews, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions garners reviews that tip the scale in the other direction. Many listeners find that the record has more weaknesses than strengths, which would indicate a lower level of second-person authenticity.

125 Moore, 216. 126 Ibid.

The third-person perspective of the performance remains unclear. Given the conflicting statements that musicians on either side of the equation have made, one might make an argument for either Wolf's approval or his disapproval of the white musicians. In such a case, it is further unclear whether those who stand to be authenticated (i.e. the British musicians), should be given the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps it would be wise to err on the side of caution and resolve that authentication of the performance cannot be made with the evidence provided.

CHAPTER 4

THE LONDON MUDDY WATERS SESSIONS

McKinley Morganfield was born in Rolling Fork, Mississippi in 1915 within community of sharecroppers. When Morganfield was three, his father went to live with another family and his mother died, leaving him an orphan. His grandmother Della Jones collected him and brought him north to her home on the Stovall plantation near Clarkesdale, Mississippi, where he would grow up. Morganfield enjoyed playing in the mud so much as a child that Jones began to refer to him as her “little muddy baby,” and the name would stay with him for the rest of his life.127 It was the local kids who took to calling him Muddy Waters as he would play harmonica at social events for the workers on the Stovall plantation.128 Through his connections on the plantation Waters was introduced to many blues players who would remain close associates and friends throughout his life, including Son House, Eddie Boyd, and Otis Spann. From Son House and a few others, Waters learned the guitar, which proved to be the instrument of his calling. He listened carefully to the bottleneck techniques of Charley Patton, Robert Johnson, and his own friend Son House, eventually crafting a style of his own. Waters was first recorded in 1941 when musicologist Alan Lomax went on a field trip to Mississippi to find legendary bluesman Robert Johnson. Unbeknownst to Lomax, Johnson had been dead for three years, but fortunately for Lomax and Waters alike, the remainder of his trip took Lomax to Clarkesdale, where Waters had developed a reputation as a singer and performer whose act could rival the most popular bluesmen in Mississippi.129 Lomax recorded the first three songs of a long career in Waters's own living room. “Country Blues,” Waters's first composition, is recognized as a landmark recording, though it wasn't for profit and didn't garner Waters any significant attention.

127 Sandra B.Tooze, Muddy Waters, the Mojo Man (Toronto, CAN: E.C.W. Press, 1997), 25. 128 Ibid, 31. 129 Ibid.

It wouldn't be until Waters was able to escape the plantation and journey to Chicago that he would make a name for himself. He found that the hard-edged, electrified sound of Chicago nightclubs suited his tastes perfectly, and his style on the slide guitar fit right in with a sound that was becoming very popular—that of the Mississippi country blues “plugged in.” It wasn't long before his talent and style brought him to the attention of a certain businessman who happened to own the South Side's hottest club, the Macomba Lounge.130 Muddy Waters was one of the first musicians signed to the Chess brothers' Aristocrat label in 1949. Waters recorded hit after hit for them throughout the 1950s and into the early 1960s, eventually becoming the most famous and definitive artist of the Chicago Blues sound. Just like Howlin' Wolf, British groups had adored Waters and covered his music. When a club owner asked Brian Jones for the name of his group, it was a Muddy Waters's “Greatest Hits” record—with one of its popular numbers, “Rolling Stone Blues,” lying on the floor of Jones's flat—that had provided a quick name for The Rolling Stones. The London Muddy Waters Sessions features well-respected guitarist Rory Gallagher. Gallagher was born in Bally-Shannon, Ireland in 1949. He attended school in Cork City, where he heard American blues music for the first time, played by British musician Lonnie Donnegan. Acquiring his first guitar at age seven, he soon heard American musicians like Blind Boy Fuller and Robert Johnson. He became a diligent student of the instrument, and was good enough to accompany the Fontana Show Band up and down the coast of Ireland by the time he was fifteen.131 Gallagher left the show band scene to form his three-piece-group Taste in 1966. Gallagher's intricate guitar playing brought Taste notoriety and a great deal of respect in the British blues community. Though Taste is often pigeonholed as a blues power trio like Cream or the Jimi Hendrix Experience, many more discerning listeners find that the group— and Gallagher’s playing in general—is not limited to a specific genre, and that although the group is heavily influenced by the blues, it is far more unique and original than many of their

130 Tooze, 70. 131 Ghost Blues: The Story of Rory Gallagher & the Beat Club Sessions. Directed by Ian Thuillier. Eagle Vision, 2010. DVD. Eagle Rock, 2010.

58 contemporary blues-rock outfits.132 In live performance, Taste would often branch out into complex jazz arrangements and Irish folk tunes. Taste broke up in 1970, allowing Gallagher to appear on many collaborative recordings. He worked with Jerry Lee Lewis, Albert King, and eventually was invited by a former associate from his show-band days, British musician Georgie Fortune (known as Georgie Fame), to appear on a jam with Muddy Waters in 1971. The new owners of Chess Records were excited to discover that The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions was selling both abroad and at home, and attempted a similar scenario when they sent Waters to England in 1971. They had arranged a series of recording dates at Olympic studios with Georgie Fortune, though Waters had no idea who would be playing at the session when he arrived.133 Fortune brought along one of his previous associates, Mitch Mitchell, who had recently gained recognition as the drummer for the Jimi Hendrix Experience. Hendrix died in 1970, leaving Mitchell's schedule open for interesting jam sessions and collaborations—just like Gallagher. High-profile British keyboardist Steve Winwood, who had overdubbed tracks onto The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions record, was available for at least one day of recording this time, and he contributed piano and organ performances to three of the songs on the final album. Producers had also arranged for bassist Rick Grech to appear. Grech had been a member of the early progressive rock group The Family before being enlisted as a member of Blind Faith, the supergroup project with Winwood, Clapton, and Ginger Baker. The Artists & Repertoire staff at Chess thought it wise to send along a small entourage to accompany Waters, just like Hubert Sumlin had done for Wolf, so they enlisted guitarist Sammy Lawhorn and drummer Herbie Lovelle for additional support. They also sent a young American harmonica player named Carey Bell Harrington who showed much promise, but unfortunately died in a boating accident shortly after the London Muddy Waters Sessions was released.134 The core group for The London Muddy Waters Sessions is comprised of Winwood and Fortune alternating on keyboards,

132 Ibid. 133 Tooze, 238. 134 Andy Schwartz and Andy McKaie, The London Muddy Waters Sessions, Liner notes, Chess M.C.A. Records, 1989.

Mitchell on drums, Grech on bass, and both Lawhorn and Gallagher on guitar. The group recorded nine songs over the course of December 4, 7, and 8, 1971. Analysis of The London Muddy Waters Sessions is difficult compared to the other two case studies in that there is less available material that describes the recording sessions for The Muddy Waters London Sessions. Of the three albums in this study, the liner notes and information included on The London Muddy Waters Sessions album are by far the least comprehensive. There are only three pages of text, only one of which is devoted to the recording process of the album, compared to more than twenty pages in The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions record, and virtually all of the text in the two volumes of Blues Jam in Chicago. The latter was comprised of approximately ten pages that were written by the producer, as opposed to a third party, as is the case with both the London Sessions albums. There are fewer overdubs on the Waters record than on the Wolf record, but there are more than are present on the Blues Jam in Chicago record. The recording took place on three dates: May 4, 7, and 8. It is necessary to put the Waters record into the classification of a programmed album like the Wolf Sessions, as opposed to a free-form jam like the Fleetwood Mac record. In this way, the examinations of several of Moore’s indicators of authenticity bear more resemblance to those of The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions than to those of Blues Jam In Chicago. However, some of the most poignant aspects of Moore’s theories may be revealed within the differences between the two London Sessions records. In terms of the first-person authenticity achieved by a vocalist, The London Muddy Waters Sessions yields interesting findings. Waters's vocals are seldom referred to as “gravelly” like those of Paul Weller, Howlin’ Wolf, and the soulful growl that both Peter Green and Jeremy Spencer affect. But Waters’s vocals are known for being energetic and charismatic.135 When the songs included on The London Muddy Waters Sessions are compared with Waters’s original Chess recordings, one finds that though the British band sounds entirely different from the Chess groups, most of Waters’s vocal performances on the London Sessions recordings appear as energized as they sounded on any of his originals recorded in Chicago. On songs like “Young Fashioned Ways,” Waters sounds as vibrant as

135 Schwartz and McKaie.

60 he did on the original record from 1955. He is delivering the majority of these performances with as much “unmediated expression” as one would expect from a professional musician. There are several possibilities as to why there is such a disparity between Waters's vocal performances and those of Wolf. One might attribute this disparity between the Wolf and Waters records as an indicator of Wolf’s poor health. One might also simply attribute this to the fact that Waters was a consummate professional who could come in to the studio and get the job done. One might also say that with the arrangement in the studio that day, with the backing musicians present, Waters experienced what Moore would describe as first- person authenticity. It is also possible that Wolf attempted to perform many of his own songs in their original, high keys, whereas Waters and his backing musicians lowered most of his songs.136 This transposition would provide an advantage for an aging singer and would make it far easier to achieve the kind of vocal performance that is required to transmit what Moore describes as “unmediated expression.” Just as on the Howlin’ Wolf record, Waters is the lone vocalist to contribute to the London Muddy Waters Sessions, and just as on the Wolf record, a program manager had chosen the songs for Waters and the group to record from an assortment of old Chess Records standards.137 The record was produced by American producer and Chess A&R representative Esmond Edwards. Dayron had been a young engineer trying to put together The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions himself, almost on a whim.138 He had to convince the musicians that they would make good music, and he had to convince Chess Records that they would make good money. With the positive sales, and generally positive reception of the first London Sessions record, Chess was more than happy to send Waters along for a second try at success, but this time they decided to hire a more experienced producer in Esmond Edwards. Edwards had been a producer at Chess since the 1950s. It is unclear as to whether the songs performed on the album were chosen for a specific reason, although it is clear that Edwards follows part of Dayron’s trajectory by having Waters record several of his older

136 McKinley Morganfield, The London Muddy Waters Sessions, recorded December 4-8, 1971, MCA/Chess Records, 1972. 137 Andy Schwartz and Andy McKaie, The London Muddy Waters Sessions, Liner notes, Chess M.C.A. Records, 1989. 138 Dahl, 4.

61 hits, including “Young Fashioned Ways,” “I’m Ready,” and “Who’s Gonna Be Your Sweet Man When I’m Gone?” The repeat of his earlier works does not seem to hamper Waters as much as the same programming philosophy does Wolf. Where it was detrimental to Wolf's performance, the use of familiar songs provides an advantage for Waters. This energetic performance from Waters indicates what Moore would describe as a fairly high degree of first-person authenticity. The selection of backing musicians, just as on the Wolf record, is part of the paradox of Moore's concept of authenticity. The producers have set out to find not only good blues players, but famous ones as well, in Steve Winwood and Rory Gallagher. But does the selection of these artists enhance or detract from the record’s authenticity? In Chicago, Waters's regular band would have included players like “Baby Face” Leroy Foster on drums, Louis Satterfield on bass, Jimmy Rogers on guitar, and Little Walter on harmonica.139 Although these players are superstars to blues fans, they were not well known names outside of Chicago and had nowhere near the star power of players like Gallagher and Winwood. But they are the players who created the original recordings. Assuming that Waters’s apex of authenticity occurred at home in Chicago, recording in the comfort of Ter-Mar with his friends it seems that any effort to achieve authenticity outside of that environment will fall short. If so, it is interesting to imagine if and why Waters would travel abroad to play with other musicians if he had determined of his own schedule of recording dates. If one removes the obvious financial incentive, it is clear that musicians tend to travel and play with others of their ilk, to trade ideas and hear different perspectives. Maybe Waters's first-person authenticity would be at its highest degree with his usual band back home in Chicago. But if that is the case, it makes any of his high-quality but “inauthentic” performances all the more interesting. The first-person authenticity of the backing musicians on this album is an interesting aspect as well. Winwood plays with the band in the studio as opposed to overdubbing his performance later like he did with the Wolf record.140 This is surely a factor that would

139 Cub Koda, “The Muddy Waters Sessions,” Allmusic, accessed January 2012, http://www.allmusic.com/album/the-london-muddy-waters-sessions-r122178/review/. 140 Nowhere on the album does it specify this piece of information. However it is logical given that Winood appears only on recordings that took place on December 4, 1971. He appears on all of the recordings

62 enhance one’s feeling of legitimacy, that one had communicated a message of integrity to the audience. Winwood was only present for the first day of recording on December 4 and only appears on three songs: “Key to The Highway,” “I’m Gonna Move…,” and “Sad, Sad Day.” The rest of the piano on the album is performed by Mitchell’s former band mate Georgie Fortune. Fortune is described in the liner notes as more of a jazz musician than Winwood, whose roots are firmly planted in R&B.141 Although this fact does not detract from Fortune's blues performances, Winwood seems to find the groove a little easier than Fortune. Fortune enters songs like “Blind Man Blues” and “Young Fashioned Ways” tentatively, and takes time to develop a characteristic piano part on both songs, which Winwood does immediately on “I'm Gonna' Move To The Outskirts of Town.” Mitchell’s playing is important to the discussion of the groove achieved by the group. Much of the time, Mitchell plays on top of the beat, almost rushing the song. However, in the slower tunes—“I’m Gonna Move” and “Sad, Sad Day,” in particular—Mitchell fills and rolls between the beats in a restrained manner, and several times he almost drags the beat in an effort not to rush.142 After listening to his skill on such Jimi Hendrix Experience performances as “Fire” and “I Don’t Live Today,” one can hear that Mitchell is clearly playing beneath his ability on the Waters record.143 The same can be said for Gallagher, who tones down his own usual overdriven guitar setup in order to fit in with the band, as opposed to attracting all of the attention. It is barely possible to differentiate Gallagher’s playing from Lawhorn’s in tunes with more than one solo, such as “Who’s Gonna Be Your Sweet Man” and “Young Fashioned Ways.” These features of the European players’ performances will be examined in more depth in the section on third-person authenticity, but for the moment, their apparent attempt to defer to Waters may have led them to falter in their own first-person authenticity. By playing in

cut that day. This information indicates that Winwood was in the studio on December 4th and would have played on more if he had been available. 141 Schwartz and McKaie. 142 Morganfield, The London Muddy Waters Sessions. 143 Jimi Hendrix, Mitch Mitchell, and Noel Redding, The Jimi Hendrix Experience: Are You Experienced? Recorded October 1966, Polydor Records, 1967, CD, tracks 6 and 8.

63 discomfort as opposed to “letting it rip,” they are not playing like usual. Instead, rightly or wrongly, they are playing to fit their own expectations of a Chess Records sideman. In the case of both London Sessions records, both of the star guitarists, Clapton and Gallagher, largely sit back and let the masters shine. Neither guitarist lets loose a bevy of virtuosic guitar solos that one might find in a Cream or Taste performance. The downplaying of these elements, which might shift the focus more towards Clapton or Gallagher, might be seen as an attempt to achieve what Moore identifies as third-person authenticity by placating and deferring to the authenticator—in this case, Wolf and Waters. It is possible that both the Wolf and Waters recordings could have benefited in terms of overall first-person authenticity by paying less attention to the question of third-person authenticity. If the Europeans had cared less about what the American masters thought and just played the way that made them popular with their own fans, they might not have gained the acceptance of the Americans, but their own performances might show more integrity in terms of first-person authenticity. Just like the Howlin’ Wolf record, The London Muddy Waters Sessions features instrumentation that is intended to duplicate what might have been used in the original Chess recordings. The only difference may be the presence of Fortune’s Hammond B3 organ on a tune like “I’m Gonna Move,” which featured piano on the original recording from 1955. This is not to say that the recordings made by the musicians at The London Muddy Waters Sessions sound like the Chess recordings; on the contrary, the fact that most of the original instrumentation is replicated is revealing in the analysis of the European musician's authenticity. Having decided not to adapt the songs or attempt to personalize them for a new group and a new recording session, the makers of The London Muddy Waters Sessions facilitate a direct comparison with the more natural sounding performances of the Chess sidemen. Under these circumstances, the Americans outplay their counterparts in terms of unmediated expression. The purpose of the overdubbing that does take place on the Waters record is more for post-production effect than actual substitution of a whole instrumental performance. The core band is always present: Mitchell or Lovelle on drums, Grech on bass, Winwood or Fortune on piano, Bell on harmonica, and both Gallagher and Lawhorn on guitar. The horn sections were added later, along with a second vocal part to “Blind Man Blues.” Edwards

64 recorded vocalist Rosetta Hightower as an ad hoc duet with Waters. In this regard, one might say that Moore’s expectation of an “absolute minimum of overdubs” has been not been met. Though it cannot be denied that overdubs are present and that this is in conflict with Moore's concept of first-person authenticity, the overdubs are only meant to add small touches to the finished product. It is doubtful that the band would have felt any more or less authentic on the initial recording day if an additional back-up singer or the horns had been present in the studio. At no time is a member of the rhythm section recorded over or replaced as happened with The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions. The Waters record has only been added to, not subtracted from. This may have a positive effect on the record's first-person authenticity. In terms of second-person authenticity, the Waters record did not fare as well in the charts as the Wolf record, though both fared better than the Fleetwood Mac. At the time, critics may have seen the Waters album as an obvious attempt to extract a little more money from a difficult situation wherein classic blues was no longer selling. Critics and fans may have felt as though another collaboration with the Europeans was just a gimmick, which may be why The London Muddy Waters Sessions failed to chart.144 Fans had a lot of different perspectives on Waters in his final years with Chess Records. Chess and Waters’s failed attempt at psychedelia with Electric Mud in 1969, immediately followed by a successful collaboration in Fathers & Sons, may have left his audience wondering what to expect next. As generous as Cub Koda was in his AllMusic.com review for Wolf, he expressed disgust with The London Muddy Waters Sessions: If you like hearing '70s British rock stars attempting to jam with one of the originators of the form, then you'll probably like the results from this tepid 1971 session. Only the late Irish guitarist Rory Gallagher seems to be interacting with the old master here (and guitarist Sammy Lawhorn) while Stevie Winwood, Georgie Fame and Mitch Mitchell seem to be totally lost.145 Though the review is short, it is direct. Koda leaves little question as to his thoughts on the album, and though he avoids going into detail, several of Moore’s aspects of authenticity can still be addressed. First, Koda makes no mention of Waters’s performance. One assumes from the review that Waters had not done anything particular to bother Koda, except perhaps

144 Koda, “The Muddy Waters Sessions.” 145 Ibid.

65 for having agreed to appear with these musicians in the first place. Koda may figure that a level of authenticity is present in any of Waters’s performances, and that only the British musicians stand to be [de]authenticated. It is clear that the backing musicians had failed to meet Koda’s expectations for an authentic blues performance. When he writes that Winwood, Fame, and Mitchell “seem to be totally lost,” he may be confirming the rhythm section’s earlier-discussed problem with keeping “in the groove.” Unsurprisingly, the Amazon.com customer reviews of The London Muddy Waters Sessions bear some resemblance to the reviews of the Wolf record. Listener Johnny Heering writes: Back in the early 1970s, Chess Records sent all of their major recording artists over to London to record. Muddy Waters was no exception to this gimmick. Muddy works here with a mixture of some of his regular band members and some young British rockers. The results are good, if not essential. Muddy had recorded most of these songs before, in superior versions. Not that these versions are bad, they are just lacking when compared to the original versions. Most of the songs here are given a more "contemporary" (circa 1970) feel to them, with mixed results. This is a pretty good album, but I would recommend starting with Muddy's older, "classic" material before you work your way up to this one.146 As with The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions, several reviewers believe that the authentic Muddy Waters is to be found in the catalog of original Chess recordings. Heering even refers to the aforementioned “gimmick” of sending the Chess artists to collaborate with the European superstars. His expectations of a blues record by Waters had not been met, which detracts from the second-person authenticity of the performance. It may be helpful to address a point that does not come up in Moore’s discussion: the division of fans into casual music listeners and what might be described as collectors. A collector, in this instance, is a fan who collects all the material—good and bad—that one artist has to offer, whereas a casual listener will just buy and keep the material he or she likes. When Heering suggests that fans who are “just starting” to “work their way up to” the London Sessions record, he is speaking about the casual fan perhaps the fan who has yet to become a Muddy Waters “collector.” In his review, Docendo Doscimus warns his readers

146 Johnny Heering, post to “The London Muddy Waters Sessions,” April 4, 2004, review forum, Amazon.com, accessed February 2, 2013, http://www.amazon.com/London-Muddy-Waters- Sessions/dp/B000002OB1/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1361545121&sr=1- 1&keywords=london+muddy+waters+sessions.

66 that the deluxe edition of The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions is “probably too much for the casual fan,” but he does note that “it does have lot of stuff which should interest serious Wolf fans.” He finishes on a familiar note: “This is not the place to start your Wolf collection (always start with the classic Chess stuff!)”147 This bisection of fans is interesting in that Moore’s concept of second-person authenticity primarily addresses the concept of one group of listeners and their relationship to music. The current discourse has essentially been focused on the second-person authenticity experienced by listeners who venture into the past for such validation. Anyone who buys records that were released as long as forty years ago is presumably aware of the possibility that the performers are dead, or no longer play music together. Even if not, they are probably aware that they are purchasing a record that was originally released in the past. In this sense their interpretation of authenticity may be affected by, among many other things, the passage of time. For most fans, these records have already been addressed in terms of their [dis]authenticity. The listener can’t attend a performance by Howlin’ Wolf or Muddy Waters to determine for themselves whether to buy the record. The listener and potential buyer of these records is much more swayed by word of mouth or reviews published on such websites as Amazon.com and Allmusic.com. As such, these listeners subsequently speak more to the authenticity an artist has achieved in terms of their comprehensive output rather than a single album. If a listener can buy any Muddy Waters record, including those recorded before and after the London Sessions, why buy it? This idea prompts the listener to imagine where the record fits into the spectrum of authenticity of the music that spans Waters’s entire career. One reviewer who chose to refer to himself simply as “A customer” makes the same point with vigor: Some of the reviews here are waaay too generous, so don't get your hopes up about the quality of this album. One reviewer refers to it as the best blues album of all time: Heck, I can name 10 or 12 other MUDDY WATERS albums that have this beat hands down! Muddy's vocals sound tired, the material is sub-par, and the band isn't particularly good, although Rory Gallagher gets off a few good solos. The organ playing is horrid—and absolutely unnecessary. The album cover art

147 Docendo Discimus, post to “Fleetwood Mac Blues Jam In Chicago,” February 29, 2009, review forum, Amazon.com, accessed February 2, 2013, http://www.amazon.com/Blues-Jam Chicago- FleetwoodMac/dp/B00030607Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1361544758&sr=8- 1&keywords=fleetwood+mac+blues+jam+in+chicago.

gives a pretty good indication that this wasn't a very serious Muddy Waters blues album. You can steer clear of this one, unless you have all of Muddy's classic stuff and are interested in hearing him on an ‘off-night.’148 For a more considerate take on a similar viewpoint, here is a review entitled “Weakest of the series,” by “VINE™ VOICE:Boston Bluesman,” who also mentions the idea of the collector: Muddy Waters London Sessions is part of a multi-CD collection that Chess put out that includes this CD, Howlin' Wolf London Sessions, and Muddy Water's Fathers and Sons album. Of the set, this is the weakest CD. The other two are excellent. The songs come off flat, Muddy un-inspired and the added horn arrangements do nothing to improve the situation. As mentioned the Howlin' Wolf session is excellent and the half studio\half live Fathers and Sons is a must own for any blues\Muddy fan. This is for collectors only.149 These listener reviews indicate an extremely low level of second-person authenticity; none of these listeners provided a positive review. Their tone is one of caution not to buy the record and expect an authentic performance from Waters. This is surely the strongest evidence available that suggests the album suffers from a lack of authenticity. The third-person authenticity of The London Muddy Waters Sessions reveals many further points of contention. On one hand, there is the idea of Waters as a willing ambassador to the blues, an elder statesman ready to deem the next generation worthy of the blues. This is the vision presented in the liner notes to the record when Andy Schwartz and Andy McKaie refer to The Rolling Stones, Paul Butterfield, Mike Bloomfield, John Mayall, and Clapton positively as “truth seekers.”150 On the other hand, one is prompted to recall Muddy Waters's comment regarding the authenticity of his British colleagues: I think they're great people, but they're not blues players. Really, what separates them from people like Wolf and myself, we're doing the stuff like we did way years ago down in Mississippi. These kids are just getting up, getting stuff and going with it, you know, so we're ex-pressing our lives, the hard times and the

148 A Customer, post to “The London Muddy Waters Sessions,” May 18, 2003, review forum, Amazon.com, accessed February 2, 2013, http://www.amazon.com/London-Muddy-Waters- Sessions/dp/B000002OB1/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1361545121&sr=1- 1&keywords=london+muddy+waters+sessions. 149 Boston Bluesman, post to “The London Muddy Waters Sessions,” October 15, 2006, review forum, Amazon.com, accessed February 2, 2013, http://www.amazon.com/London-Muddy-Waters- Sessions/dp/B000002OB1/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1361545121&sr=1- 1&keywords=london+muddy+waters+sessions. 150 Schwartz and McKaie.

different things we been through. It's not real. They don't feel it. I don't think you can feel the blues until you've been through some hard times.151 This quote appears in an article by Martha Bayles entitled “Hollow Rock & the Lost Blues Connection.” Bayles’s contention is that through their misinterpretation of the stoic and hopeful messages ingrained in the blues as played by black Americans, the European and subsequently American blues-rock musicians lost a great deal of artistic integrity of the blues. Bayles contributes the following comments concerning authenticity, “Note well that Muddy Waters does not find the source of blues feeling in skin color, geography, social class, or relationship to the means of production. Rather, he sees it as the product of long, hard experience with life as well as with music. Yet once achieved, blues feeling has the power to transcend race, sex, generation, and most other human divisions.”152 It is apparent that Moore’s final question of third-person authenticity remains in doubt. If the British backing musicians acquired an authentic mode of expression from the Chess musicians—those whose possession it is—their third-person authenticity is confirmed, or at least enhanced. Waters's words imply that he doesn't believe that this authentic mode of expression has been passed accurately to the British musicians. Curiously, Rory Gallagher described his experiences on the London Sessions with no hint of negativity whatsoever, “[Working with] Muddy Waters was a dream for me because he had a great kind of, kindness about him, in a way. And just watching him tuning up or hitting certain chords; unusual positions on the neck; like an education for me. But he never really kind of stood on you, you know what I mean? He kind of just let you breathe around him.”153 This is interesting because, when one listens to the standard Gallagher tunes from Taste or his solo act, it seems as though he is most comfortable with a louder and more aggressive setup. Though Gallagher often performed in the acoustic country blues format, the music for which Gallagher became known and respected among his peers was the innovative blues-rock music that he created as an expansion of the blues. These points are not to suggest that The London Muddy Waters Sessions would be better if Mitchell had

151 Martha Bayles, “Hollow Rock & the Lost Blues Connection,” The Wilson Quarterly 17, no. 3 (Summer, 1993): 29. 152 Ibid. 153 Ghost Blues: The Story of Rory Gallagher.

69 broken drum heads in exertion and Gallagher had blown out speaker cabinets with extreme volume, but the musicians sound uncomfortable on the record. The only track that sounds like what fans have come to expect from Waters is his re-recording of “Walking Blues,” which is a duet with Lawhorn, his longtime American sideman; no other players contribute to the track. These examples point to a generally low level of third-person authenticity experienced in the The London Muddy Waters Sessions.

CHAPTER 5

CONCLUSION

The application of Moore's concepts to three blues collaborations has proven to be both helpful and problematic. Some elements of Moore's theory serve to illuminate issues of authenticity in the blues, others further obscure them. Identifying clear results is difficult, as many factors of authenticity remain subjective and open to interpretation. First-person authenticity is a complex concept. Not only does Moore ascribe significance to the way an artist feels about his or her music, but he also ascribes meaning to things like the specific

brand of instrument the artist chooses to play. Much of the time, elements that contribute to the determination of first- and third-person authenticity overlap. For instance, the examination of Muddy Waters’s acceptance of his backing musicians involves two factors: the question of whether the white musicians succeed in continuing the blues tradition (third- person authenticity), and the ability of Waters to achieve his own best performance without his usual band (first-person authenticity). To further complicate matters, collaborative efforts such as the three albums under consideration involve an additional dimension to the authenticity of the headlining artist. In Blues Jam in Chicago, for instance, the first-person authenticity of the Chess house band must be examined as much as that of Fleetwood Mac, especially in the cases where Chess players take the lead and become the headlining act. For example, in Otis Spann's two-song set of “Someday Soon Baby” and “Hungry Country Girl,” Spann recorded with just Green, McVie, and Fleetwood. Though Fleetwood Mac is billed as the headlining act of the entire jam, for those two songs the musicians of Fleetwood Mac become sidemen. Green accompanies Spann, waiting for the pianist to play a lick before he answers in 154 complementary antiphonal blues style. This example carries so many elements of what could be described as first-person authenticity (Spann's, Green's, and the rhythm section's sense of expression) or third-person authenticity (Spann's ability to play with the young,

154 Green et al., Fleetwood Mac: Blues Jam in Chicago, tracks 5 and 6.

71 white newcomers to his tradition, or the British players' feeling of acceptance or denial from their older heroes), that it is difficult to separate Moore's themes from one another. Moore's points about lineup and instrumentation are well made in the sense that musicians are likely to be inspired to reach their own potential of unmediated expression under such ideal surroundings. The blues, however, is an art form with standards and traditions of its own that seem to hold a more precise definition of authenticity. Many artists who would not be regarded by players and aficionados as authentic might be capable of buying quality instruments, hiring stellar backing musicians, rehearsing a gravelly voice until it sounded pained and expressive, and recording the whole thing live, and have often done so with great popular success. What has proven to be the most valuable element of the first-person authenticity discussion has been the presence or absence of overdubs in the recording process. The presence of overdubs is one of the clear demonstrable differences among the three albums, and is an element that has a high potential to affect the quality of the final product. For example, the fact that Steve Winwood is billed as a performer on each of the London Sessions records, yet was only actually present for the live recording session on the Waters record, is rife with implications that might be useful to describe the differing levels of authenticity achieved by the European musicians on each of the two London Sessions records. Second-person authenticity is limited by the availability of critical or interview material. As discussed in Chapter One, there are only so many ways to collect such data. The use of online customer comments is not optimal, nor is the use of an Allmusic.com review in place of a well-researched article. However, these media also seem appropriate given the circumstances under which so many blues fans first arrive at the albums under study. More and more, scholarly works pursue contemporary, urban, and British blues as viable research topics. But even the most comprehensive of recent blues studies only contain scant mention of these collaborations. The results of the application of Moore’s typology to Blues Jam in Chicago vary with each level of authenticity. In terms of first-person authenticity, the album appears to do well, though differently depending on the performer. Peter Green's vocal performances are passionate, emotional, and indicate what Moore would describe as a “feeling that one's

72 utterance is one of integrity.”155 Jeremy Spencer, too, has many moments of what could be described as “unmediated expression” with both his audience and his fellow musicians. However, these factors only indicate how it appears to the listener, which might place the whole argument squarely in the second-person category. In such a case, one must attempt to uncover what the musicians themselves felt and experienced. Danny Kirwan expressed dubious feelings as to his own understanding of the blues: “The blues is a black man's language...something that stems from the black nature of man.”156 David Honeyboy Edwards cast his own aspersion, and although he wasn't speaking specifically of the Fleetwood Mac jam at the time, his words belie a lack of confidence in the new generation of blues players: “A lot of these white boys play the blues real good. Ain't but one thing about most of them though: most can't sing a thing.”157 Despite these comments, it appears that Fleetwood Mac at least felt their own sense of unmediated expression during their jaunt to Chess Records in 1969. The combination of Spencer's excitement and Green and Kirwan's professionalism denotes confidence in their abilities and, in most cases, joy at the prospect of playing alongside the Chess house band. The members of the house band appear to do nothing differently in the studio than they would have if Fleetwood Mac hadn't been there. They laugh, joke, drink, and lay down quality blues performances. But Fleetwood Mac was there, and most evidence indicates that the Chess men were pleased with their presence. Mike Vernon writes, “Most of the locals were happy to be involved...especially Otis Spann, Willie Dixon and Shakey Horton...but then he was always on the bottle and also mostly uncontrollable.”158 The question of the choice of lineup has been problematic in this project since the collaboration among quality musicians is central to an organized jam session. However, the contradiction within this idea is the possibility that the most authentic lineup of backing musicians may not be the most famous, which may be the problem with the two London Sessions records. With their reservation of Ter-Mar studios and the house band on site that

155 Moore, 214. 156 Roberta Freund Schwartz, 232. 157 Ibid. 158 Mike Vernon, e-mail message to author, February 12, 2013.

73 day, Fleetwood Mac acquired an instantly more authentic setup. They not only played in the building where most of the original music had been recorded, but they had some of the same players who originally recorded it. In this sense, the Blues Jam in Chicago rates very high in first-person authenticity with regard to its lineup of backing musicians. Moore's final point of first-person authenticity is Blues Jam in Chicago's complete lack of overdubs. Everything the listener experiences on Blues Jam in Chicago is “natural sound” that was recorded live on January 4, 1969. Every piece of the jam session was experienced simultaneously by the players who are on the album jacket. This means that the musicians who are advertised as being a part of the band are the same musicians who appear at the session to record with the band; they were in the same room with one another. As obvious as that point seems, it makes Blues Jam in Chicago unique among the case study records: it is the only one of the three albums that exclusively features “live” performances. When asked if it is essential for a good blues recording to be as “live” as possible, Mike Vernon replied, “Whenever possible, yes...but in this day and age it rarely works out that way! I'm not a great fan of 'jams' but the FM Chess sessions are probably amongst the best of all such projects, at least in my opinion. It's not called "Blues Jam at Chess"/Chicago for nothing!”159 In terms of second-person authenticity, Blues Jam in Chicago probably fares better than the other two case study records for the simple reason that among the three records, it is the most benign to listeners. Though it features more musicians, it also features fewer “superstars” like Eric Clapton or Muddy Waters. It is therefore given less attention and subject to less criticism. These days Blues Jam in Chicago is unknown to all but the most diligent Fleetwood Mac fans.160 Additionally, a somewhat different version of the band experienced a resurgence of fame in the mid-1970s, which further obscured Blues Jam in Chicago, if not also Peter Green and the original lineup of the band. The critical reviews that do exist point to a similarly ambivalent view of the album: those who enjoy listening to a

159 Mike Vernon, e-mail message to author, February 12, 2013. 160 Many of the blues aficionados and players with whom this research was discussed didn't know of Blues Jam in Chicago when asked.

74 hasty jam session with quality musicians tend to enjoy it, while those who prefer their blues to be well rehearsed tend not to. The third-person perspective of Blues Jam in Chicago is the most complex. Andrew James Kellett, writing on the British appropriation of American blues, has this to say about Blues Jam in Chicago: ...on the strength of its first two albums, the band immediately established a reputation as skillful interpreters of the tough Chicago-style blues sound. This reputation was cemented in 1969, when...Fleetwood Mac traveled to Chicago to record at Chess Studios with their heroes. The two compilations that resulted, Blues Jam in Chicago, Volumes 1 and 2, showcased the delicate balance that Fleetwood Mac (and, by extension, the British blues-rock tradition they represented) had struck between authenticity and creativity, an achievement noted with guarded respect by the Chess players who collaborated with them.161 To many listeners in the 1960s and early 1970s, it appeared that European musicians simply copied the music of their idols. At this point it is helpful to turn to the words of producer Mike Vernon: In precise form I would say that most, but not all, of the British blues luminaries listened really hard to their idols and did their best to capture the sound, attitude and performance of those originals and only a few succeeded but little credit (should credit be due) for their efforts. When Peter and Stan Webb threw aside their attempts to copy or emulate B.B., Freddie and Buddy Guy and started working on their style did the sparks start to fly. That's why I always rated John Mayall so highly...he always managed to put his own stamp on any covers that he deemed strong and worthy enough of taking into the studio. One of the best of all the British blues recordings must surely be ‘Black Magic Woman’...that was what Peter Green was about...as indeed was ‘Man Of The World’...perhaps his finest moment (again, in my humble opinion).162 One of the most appealing aspects of Blues Jam in Chicago, and of the blues playing of Fleetwood Mac in general, is that Peter Green and the rest of the group seem to have mastered the ability to straddle the line between the authentic re-creation and the creative expansion of the blues. In so doing, Fleetwood Mac is able to avoid the pitfalls of both— staleness on the one hand, and disrespect on the other. Meanwhile, they retain the positive traits of both devotion and creativity.

161 Andrew James Kellet, “Fathers and Sons: American Blues and British Rock Music, 1960-1970,” (PhD Diss., University of Maryland, 2008), 459. 162 Mike Vernon, e-mail message to author, February 12, 2013.

From the first-person perspective, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions falls short of

what Moore would describe as authentic. Between the poor health of Wolf and the terror he initially instilled in the band, the weakness of the first day's recordings is understandable. The album progresses in quality and the players seem to grow at ease with one another, but they never seem to achieve the sense of groove that had made Wolf's early recordings such

an inspiration to the music that would become rock & roll. Vocally, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions may be the artist's worst example available to the public. It is a poor representation of the energy and vivacity that famously characterizes the celebrated blues musician. As mentioned in Chapter Three, the idea that Wolf would have been proud of these recorded performances is so unimaginable that it begs the question: had Wolf the wherewithal or the independence from Chess Records, would he have released the performance at all? If there is a measure of ease and comfort to be found on the record, it is in the playing of Clapton and his Stratocaster. He plays with restraint, but with a certain level of showmanship. However, one finds far more interesting guitar material in any of the three albums Clapton released in the same time period. Additionally, given the discomfort that is audible among the band, and

the disappointing appearance of the frontman, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions similarly could be ranked among Clapton's worst blues albums. These factors call into question the performer's ability to achieve the feeling of integrity that Moore describes. Each of the performers booked to record for the London Sessions was a professional musician, and sure to put in a quality performance. But under different circumstances, each of the performers on The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions could have played the blues much better. It is uncertain that a poor performance indicates a lack of authenticity, but authenticity has been shown to be related to the feeling that one's own playing carries legitimacy, and the musicians’ feeling that their undertaking didn't reach their own potential confirms the fact.

Listeners share similar thoughts about The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions, which affects the examination of second-person authenticity. When one reads the comments of other listeners, one finds a clear warning not to make this the first record in either a Howlin' Wolf or Eric Clapton collection. “Start with the old Chess stuff!” is the refrain from reviewers. What this means in terms of Moore's concept is that Wolf and the British

76 musicians have failed to convince most of their listeners that their performance is one of integrity on an equal plane with other work in the artists' repertoire. The third-person perspective of The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions is the most interesting and the most complex. Speaking about a similar collaboration earlier in his career with Muddy Waters and Otis Spann, Clapton had a telling comment to make about his own place within the tradition of the blues: I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind I was going to be ready perhaps when I was forty to make a record, and that up until then I was going to be a student and trying to get it right...and yet here I was twenty years old and shoved into the studio—although I'm sure I was very happy to be there—with Muddy Waters and Otis Spann....I was a kid with a guitar and I felt terrified and I had no idea how to conduct myself...it just didn't seem right to me....163 Clapton may have gained some experience between the recording of Blues Now with

Waters and Spann in 1965 and The London Sessions in 1970, which caused him to act as he did during the aforementioned “Little Red Rooster” moment. Dayron's conclusion that Clapton submitted to Wolf, thereby allowing him to feel at ease taking the lead in the session, suggests that Clapton had developed some diplomacy skills, which he wisely applied while working with his blues idols. However, Rolling Stones bassist Bill Wyman had a different take on the situation in the studio with Wolf: We were trying to do ‘Red Rooster’...the way Wolf did it. Wolf's trying to teach Eric Clapton to play the slide and he's not quite getting in there properly, so Eric says, ‘Well, Wolf, it's your song...why don't you do it and then we'll cut the track and it will be perfect.’ And Wolf says, ‘No man, no, no. You've got to do it because, when I'm gone somebody's got to carry it on.’ That's the essence of it...it's not stealing. It's just continuing a tradition. 164 Wyman takes Wolf's reluctance to play as a symbol of Wolf's desire to see the British musicians succeed. His implication is that the British musicians do more than copy their forbearers—they take responsibility for the blues as it will exist after musicians like Howlin' Wolf are gone. The racial elements of authenticity do not seem to bother Wyman. For Wyman, authenticity stems from the fact that he chooses to carry on the tradition, whether or not he is the originator's ideal candidate to do so.

163 Roberta Freund Schwartz, 151. 164 Ibid., 236.

The analysis of The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions bears results that place the album somewhat short of authentic. Unfortunately, the negative elements of first-person authenticity (Wolf's attitude, Clapton's reticence, etc.) outweigh the positive. Similarly, the picture painted by the participants of the album shows an array of different perspectives that leave the issue of third-person authenticity in doubt. Curiously, the album's achievements in sales and general popularity cause second-person authenticity to be the factor that gives The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions its highest marks. As discussed, however, sales and popularity are not enough to qualify a performance as authentic. The album may yet have been more popular, and seen even higher sales, had the musicians felt that their performance was one of integrity as Moore describes. The first-person examination of The London Muddy Waters Sessions yields interesting results. Several elements mirror the Wolf sessions, and some elements provide a unique look at the question of authenticity. Vocally, Waters performs far better in the medium of a collaboration than Wolf did, which is probably due to the latter's illness. All of the other elements of first-person authenticity that Moore has identified serve to place both of the London Sessions records in the same category, except for one criterion: the presence of overdubs. The fact that several of the key players (pianists, bassists, etc.) were substituted from The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions puts it in another category from the Waters record in that all of the core musicians on the Waters record were able to interact with one another as they played. In Moore's regard, that would surely put the Waters record ahead of Wolf in terms of first-person authenticity. Unsurprisingly, the question of second-person authenticity yields results similar to those of the Wolf record in terms of critical analysis. Most listeners and critics find that it falls somewhere in the realm of Waters's worst performances, which isn't to say the performance lacks value. Most of the critics who have expressed similar comments about beginning a collection with the original Chess recordings have a valid point. When one thinks of the blues, one tends to imagine iconic players such as Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf. Many blues aficionados feel that it would be a shame if an unknowing customer with limited funds would purchase this album, thinking it a quintessential representation of Muddy Waters.

The most interesting and valuable information in this study, however, comes in the form of third-person authenticity. Throughout his career, Waters has made many conflicting comments on the subject of acceptance of the younger, white generation of players. In 1963, for example, Waters stated the following to British music journalist Max Jones: So far as the groups are concerned, it's beginning to sound like it does in Chicago...I must tell you I have to feel good about what is happening with the blues in Britain, because there's some of my versions in it....If you remember, I got a little criticism last time for playing electric guitar...now, when I come back, I find everybody is using electric, and playing as loud as they can get.165 Later he went on to place his comment in perspective by saying, “Just one thing makes me a little mad. These young white kids get up and sing my stuff...and the next thing is they're one of the biggest groups around and making that real big money. Sometimes that makes me mad because we've been struggling so long, fighting for a little recognition.”166 Waters's point is clear and adds yet another complex variable to Moore's analytic framework. Waters and the other Chess musicians may have no musical problem at all with the young white musicians appropriating their music: the problem for many musicians may not be a question of musical authenticity so much as it is a question of economic recognition. Waters doesn't believe that the musicians themselves are responsible for this injustice. Of The Rolling Stones, who he called “his boys,” Waters once said, “They said who did it first and how they came by knowin' it. I tip my hat to 'em. It took the people from England to hip my people—[American] white people—that a black man's music is not a crime to bring in the house.”167 Waters gives credit where credit is due when he praises The Rolling Stones's efforts to expose their fan base to the originators of the blues sound. However, Waters does not mean that The Rolling Stones should be credited for the conception of any of the musical ideas, nor does he bestow The Rolling Stones with any label certifying their authenticity. He simply indicates that British musicians' appropriation of his music isn't necessarily a bad thing.

165 Ibid., 152. 166 Ibid., 153. 167 Ibid.

According to music critic and English professor Joel Dinnerstein, there are two ways that a younger white artist could truly achieve authenticity in the blues. The first is the case in which a non-black artist grew up surrounded by music and culture in the black idiom. Such a musician would have no idea that his music was anything other than authentic, and his assumption would confirm the fact. The second way was to take up what Dinnerstein referred to as an “apprenticeship.” If a player was devoted to the blues, and played with experienced musicians, paying attention to good role models, he or she could adopt the tradition of the blues and gain acceptance from the older generation of black blues players.168 The European players on the albums under consideration share an odd mix of these two elements. In one respect, they had no idea that they were appropriating something so sensitive. Eric Clapton recalls trying to get into the spirit of the blues and understanding the life of an authentic blues artist by imagining “what kind of car he drove, what it would smell like inside...I had no idea there was a racial thing involved.”169 This indicates that Clapton might have benefited from blissful ignorance to the idea that blues wasn't originally intended for him to identify with. On the other hand, Clapton did apprentice with many players in the older generation. He admits to his listeners the weaknesses in his early efforts at blues music, and has recently come to an acceptance that his blues music has only just begun to meet his own expectations of the genre.170 Dinnerstein's comments bring to light an element that has unfortunately been underrepresented thus far: the weight of the racial issues has, in many cases, subsumed the national and generational issues first proposed in this study. The generational issues have proven more difficult to isolate than either the racial or national issues. Material involving transgenerational collaboration appears most readily in the sections of the study concerning

third-person authenticity. In most cases, the older musicians represent the authenticators, and the younger musicians represent those who stand to be authenticated. Every instance in this study that has examined the link between the authenticators and the British players has involved issues concerning cross-generational influences as well. In future studies, it would

168 Joel Dinnerstein, personal interview, February 18, 2013. 169 Roberta Freund Schwartz, 236. 170 Clapton.

80 be useful to compare the elements of authenticity among American players from the generation following Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf. It would be helpful, for example, to investigate the question of authenticity among black American players like Buddy Guy or Jimi Hendrix, who also represent this younger generation. One of the most important elements that the British musicians bring to the blues is a mindset that evolves from having grown up feeling as though the blues is right at home in London. In their youthful ignorance, the British musicians effectively appropriated not only the blues sound, but also the sense of belonging to the blues. British aficionados like Clapton had sought out American music early enough in life that the blues was the music of their youth. Music journalist Charles Shaar Murray writes: The spiritual and geographical distance which separated the Brit bands from their sources ultimately proved to be their greatest asset. Lacking firsthand knowledge of and access to their role models, they were forced to reinvent the music, to juxtapose styles and idioms which rarely mixed on their native soil, to join up the dots with their own ideas. ‘If I'm building a solo,’ Eric Clapton explained... ‘I'll start with a line that is definitely Freddie King...and then I'll go onto a B.B. King line. I'll do something to join them up, so that'll be me...’ Out of their creative misunderstanding of the distant worlds of the South Side and the Delta, Clapton and his kind accidentally-on-purpose invented something uniquely their own....171 Andrew Kellett makes similar comments regarding the perceived “distance”: Britishers shared a number of important commonalities with Americans—not least of which were a common language, and common folkways dating back to the era of British colonization. But America was also ‘distant enough’ for Britishers to bring to bear the fresh perspective that, as Thorstein Veblen and Peter Gay have separately argued with respect to the Jews, only a cultural outsider can bring. Britishers were free, if only in their own minds, of the ideological quicksand of “white guilt” and racism with which white Americans‘ understanding of the blues was often encrusted. Britishers also enjoyed a long tradition, dating back to their initial colonial adventures, of cultural openness, and the confidence to borrow from other cultures. As the latter-day beneficiaries of these interrelated traditions, Britishers could attach different cultural ‘meanings’ to the blues, and combine with it other musical and cultural forms, seemingly at will. The result was a style of music so eclectic and dynamic that several commentators have doubted whether the blues was still a salient influence in it at all.172

171 Roberta Freund Schwartz, 239. 172 Kellet, 487.

These comments highlight some of the national ideas related to the blues. As it appeared to British musicians, blues was open to interpretation. Their perspective at the time—growing up during postwar economic troubles, issues of national identity, etc., fit in perfectly with the emotion they heard from American blues masters. Their misunderstanding gave the musicians and their music a sense of personal integrity. Authenticity in blues music is a problematic topic to pursue. In addition to the usual problems attendant on the examination of such a subjective idea, the particular medium of the blues is rife with racial tension and social perspectives that often seem to have little to do with music. Under such circumstances there is always the worry that one's scholarship may lead others down the wrong path, as has been the case with some of the great blues scholars such as Oliver and Charters. Lessons from writers like Yahya Jongintaba, Charles Keil, and Amiri Baraka must be heeded, and due respect must be paid to the story of the human beings

that originated the blues—not the myths (even the well-intentioned-white-liberal, racist myths). And, though Baraka asserts that music with roots in the Afro-American slave customs cannot be measured in terms of Western musicological tropes, the discussion must continue.173 If the discussion of blues and authenticity stops where it presently is, the

accepted stereotypes and misunderstandings about the blues will survive, leaving elements of truth yet unconsidered. Scholar Martha Bayles writes, “[The blues] is an American perennial, whose flowering and withering does not fit easily into the tidy decades so beloved of some pundits, critics, and historians.”174 However, in the study of blues, one must always be diligent to avoid what Keil might describe as the “moldy-fig mentality” from which so many white, Western music scholars have suffered. In the mid-1960s Keil wrote this in his seminal work Urban Blues: Having demonstrated the moldy-fig mentality, I have yet to suggest an explanation for the phenomenon [white interest in playing/writing about the blues]. In part, it is simply a semi-liberal variant of the patronizing “white man's burden” tradition that has shaped white attitudes toward Negroes for centuries. Somehow a “we-know-what's-best-for-them” or “we-know-what's-best-in- their-music” attitude helps to alleviate some of the oppressive guilt that many whites cannot help

173 Jones, 7. 174 Bayles, 27.

82 feeling. There is an honest and laudable interest in alleviating Negro suffering or at least to make it known to the world in every blues book, Paul Oliver's Blues Fell This Morning being a notable example. Yet I can almost imagine some of these authors helping to set up a “reservation” or a Bantustan for old bluesmen; it is often that sort of liberalism. There is also an escapist element in these writings. By concentrating on old-timers and scorning today's blues as commercial or decadent, the writer can effectively avert his eyes from the urban ghetto conditions that spawn the contemporary forms. Similarly, the idealistic undergraduates who flock to a blues concert at the University of Chicago are not particularly interested in slum conditions, but can be overheard at intermission discussing last summer's crusade in Mississippi or a forthcoming church reconstruction project somewhere in the Deep South.175 None of the preceding is meant to undermine the research in this project; it is simply meant as a reminder that none of Moore's (or any scholar's) concepts can substitute for one's own attempt to empathize with others. All indications point toward a strong correlation between authenticity and personal integrity. If one is to understand these concepts as employed by musicians, one must follow the example in scholarship. A responsible piece of scholarship about authenticity as it relates to blacks and whites in blues music must engage in the discussion of racial politics in the United States. According to Moore, musicians are authenticated first by themselves, then by the listeners, and finally by the originators or accepted members of their tradition. This implies that someone who meets all of Moore's criteria achieves authenticity. The strict application of this equation to the blues and the implied ability for white artists to achieve authenticity in blues music creates a conflict acknowledged by many scholars and musicians. Paul Garon, author of Blues and the Poetic Spirit, had this to say about white participation in the genre: The most baffling aspect of the entire phenomenon of ‘white blues’ is the legitimacy and relevance with which its perpetuators would like to see it endowed.....Removed from the unique historical configurations that once produced the blues, that is, the socio-economic and cultural conditions through which blues came into being, the melodic similarities produced by the white imitators appear weak, trivial, spineless and without substance....The question then, is not ‘Can whites play (or sing) the blues?’ but simply ‘Why do they bother, and who cares?’176

175 Charles Keil, Urban Blues (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1966), 38. 176 Roberta Freund Schwartz, 234.

For Garon, and many others, the concept of “white blues” is offensive. He finds the idea that whites might glean entertainment or pleasure from an art form that was meant to cast a small light of hope onto the American Negro's bleak situation ironic and disturbing. For blues scholar Paul Oliver, the answer is pure and simple: “...only the American Black, whether purple-black or so light skinned as to be indistinguishable from his sun-tanned white neighbor, can sing the blues.”177 It is possible that a performance or a performer may be authenticated by Moore's concept, but he will never been authenticated by many scholars and players. The fact that a British player has not experienced life as a black person in the United States may outweigh any elements of personal integrity gained by the belief that the blues belongs to him. Any number of people may buy the album and write listener reviews declaring the album to be authentic and, for many, it will not be so. For some scholars, it wouldn't matter if Howlin' Wolf put his arm around Eric Clapton and proclaimed that he does play authentic blues. Clapton hasn't lived through the strife created by the American history of race-relations so, for these listeners and authors, he cannot know the blues. This discussion of Fleetwood Mac: Blues Jam in Chicago, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions, and The London Muddy Waters Sessions only grazes the surface of the topic of authenticity as it applies to collaborative blues recordings. The results have depicted the three albums as complex processes as opposed to static moments captured on tape, which makes the identification of generalized factors difficult. Each album was the product of days of recording or planning, and the end result of years of rehearsal by each musician featured. The musicians are divided by disparate generations, races, and nationalities. Each of those players was subject to different emotions, health issues, and in some cases substance abuse problems that affected their performances for better or worse. The examinations of first-, second-, and third-person authenticity have provided a helpful platform for the discussion of the similarities and differences among the case study albums. Listeners assess and interpret musical authenticity as a function of critical thinking. They divide their musical taste by the legitimacy (or lack thereof) that is present for them. In other words, listeners find and appreciate music via the honesty and integrity that reaches them. The blues is a unique genre in that many of the elements that make it so attractive, such as the carefree lifestyle of the

177 Oliver, Blues Fell This Morning, 4.

84 bluesman, have their roots in suffering. Often, the truth and integrity which reaches blues listeners comes directly from the pain of a sad, lonely, and—in some cases—homeless individual who would be lucky to see a nickel of the profits from his or her own compositions. Moore's concept has proven to be valuable in that the elements that Moore omits, such as the racial politics of authenticity, have illuminated the importance of a more comprehensive discussion, a discussion that acknowledges the voices of these individuals. However, attempting to view three different projects through one analytic framework is a valuable process that can advance the dialogue that examines authenticity and explores the criticism that purports to authenticate or dis-authenticate those projects. The analysis of Fleetwood Mac: Blues Jam in Chicago, The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions, and The London Muddy Waters Sessions via Moore's concept has demonstrated that, though the variables are complex, aspects of a performance within the framework of a transgenerational, transracial, transatlantic blues collaboration can be authentic. Moreover, the examination of that authenticity is valuable in and of itself, even if its only purpose is only to provide a platform for further discussion

REFERENCES

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DISCOGRAPHY Burnett, Chester A. The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions. Recorded January 4, 1969. Rolling Stones/Chess Records, 1971. CD. Green, Peter, Mick Fleetwood, Danny Kirwan, John McVie, and Jeremy Spencer. Fleetwood Mac: Blues Jam in Chicago. Recorded January 4, 1969. Sire, Blue Horizon, and Epic Records, 1969. CD. ———. Fleetwood Mac: Live in Boston, Vol. 3. Recorded February 5-7, 1970. Snapper Records, 2000. CD. Hendrix, Jimi, Mitch Mitchell, and Noel Redding. The Jimi Hendrix Experience: Are You Experienced? Recorded October 1966. Polydor Records, 1967. CD. Morganfield, McKinley. Fathers and Sons. Recorded April 21–24, 1969. Universal Distribution/Universal Music Group, 1969. ———. The London Muddy Waters Sessions. Recorded December 4-8, 1971. MCA/Chess Records, 1972.

FILMOGRAPHY Eric Clapton: Sessions for Robert J. Directed by Stephen Schibble. Warner Reprise Films, 2004. DVD. Warner Reprise Videos, 2004.

Ghost Blues: The Story of Rory Gallagher & the Beat Club Sessions. Directed by Ian Thuillier. Eagle Vision, 2010. DVD. Eagle Rock, 2010. Peter Green: Man of the World. Directed by Steve Graham. Aspect Films, 2009. DVD. British Broadcasting Company [BBC], 2009.