Song of the Week: The Yardbirds - Drinking Muddy Water

Today is Jimmy Page's birthday so we felt compelled to spin something from Mr. Page's large catalogue of work. Today's song comes from the twilight hours of The Yardbirds, just months before the band would transmogrify into a little known act called Led Zeppelin. We're going to feature the Flip-Side of their October 9,1967 US-only single on Epic Records. Released just as my mom went into labor in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, BTW. The cleverly titled Drinking Muddy Water was the band's second to last single in the US and it is credited to the entire band (note the typo on Chris Dreja's name), but as with too many things Jimmy Page, the number is clearly lifted from another artists' number. In this case Muddy Waters' Rollin And Tumblin'.

Until next time, we'll see you On The Flip-Side!

The Song Still Remains the Same: the unauthorized etymology of Led Zeppelin songs. "Whole Lotta Love"

Led Zeppelin, Whole Lotta Love

Small Faces, You Need Lovin'

We return today for Chapter 2 of the The Song Still Remains the Same: The unauthorized etymology of Led Zeppelin songs. Frequent readers will recall our post a few weeks back where we explored the etymology of Dazed and Confused. Take a look at that post for an over-arching introduction to the series.

Today we explore the roots of Led Zeppelin's monster of a song, Whole Lotta Love. Whole Lotta Love is perhaps Led Zeppelin's second most recognized song behind only the anthemic Stairway to Heaven. Whole Lotta Love was originally released in October of 1969 as the first song on Zep's roller-coaster-of-quality Led Zeppelin II and as that album's first single (US 45-2690). The song is credited to each of the band's members. But, as you may have guessed by now, Whole Lotta Love is not wholly original. The song started as a Willie Dixon composition entitled You Need Love as recorded by blues giant, Muddy Waters for Chess Records in 1962.

A few years later a young Mod group out of London began covering the number on stage. That group was The Small Faces which featured singer and guitarist Steve Marriott front and center. In February of 1966, the Small Faces entered IBC Studios to record the number for their debut album, The Small Faces. While the title changed ever so slightly, the music changed and some of the lyrics changed, at it's heart it was clearly the Muddy Waters song You Need Love. However, the Small Faces failed to give Dixon his due credit, instead giving writing credit to Marriott and bassist Ronnie Lane.

It was fantastic, I loved it, Muddy Waters recorded it but I couldn't sing like Muddy Waters so it wasn't that much of a nick. I was a high range and Muddy was a low range so I had to figure out how to sing it. So I did and that was our opening number for all the years we were together. Every time we were on stage that was our opening number. (All Too Beautiful, Steve Marriott. p78).

Then, in a story eerily reminiscent of the introduction of Dazed and Confused into the Led Zeppelin set list, The Small Faces opened for The Yardbirds which presently sported Jimmy Page on guitar. Page caught the opening act and focused in on the Small Faces opening number.

We did a gig with The Yardbirds....Jimmy Page asked what that number was we did. "You Need Lovin'," I said, "it's a Muddy Waters thing", which it really is. (The Small Faces: Young Mods Forgotten Story, Paolo Hewitt).

But the story doesn't stop there. In 1968, Jimmy Page, now holding onto the tattered flag that had been The Yardbirds, approached John Entwhistle and Keith Moon of The Who and Steve Marriott of the Small Faces with a proposition of forming a new band. Moon responded that the proposed band was doomed to go over like a Led Zeppelin. Marriott also had rather harsh rejection words, according to Jimmy Page:

It came down to Marriott. He was contacted, and the reply came back from his manager's office: "how would you like to have a group with no fingers, boys?" or words to that effect. So the group was dropped because of Marriott's other commitment, to the Small Faces. (1977 Jimmy Page interview, Modern Guitar Magazine. Steven Rosen).

But Marriott had a suggestion for another singer. A young mod from Halesowen, England named Robert "Percy" Plant.

Percy used to come to the gigs whenever we played in Kidderminster or Stowbridge, where he came from. He was always saying he was going to get this group together. He was another nuisance. He kept coming into the dressing room, just another little Mod kid. We used to say, "that kid's here again." (The Small Faces: Young Mods Forgotten Story, Paolo Hewitt).

So now Page had his big throated singer in young Robert Plant whose voice bears more than a passing similarity to that of Steve Marriott.

And now, finally, we can turn our focus to Led Zeppelin's Whole Lotta Love. The music of the song bears only the faintest resemblance to the Small Faces You Need Lovin' or Muddy Waters' You Need Love. Lyrically, however, the song is very similar to those earlier versions. It is in fact, the song. But more than that, the vocal delivery is a clear and blatant imitation of that of Steve Marriott's portrayal of You Need Lovin': "A-woman, a choooo need, love."

After we broke up they [Led Zeppelin] took it and revamped it...old Percy had his eyes on it. He sang it the same, phrased it the same, even the stops at the end were the same, they just put a different rhythm to it. For years and years I would hear it come on the radio while driving in America, and I would think, "Go on, my son," until one day I thought, "fucking hell, that's us, that is." The bastards!" (ibid)

It's an imitation so blatant that one can't help but smile wryly when you hear it. In the end Led Zeppelin may have successfully wrested the song away from The Small Faces, but they didn't get it away from the original author of the song. Willie Dixon wasn't going to let the matter rest so easily. According to author Will Shade, the October 8 edition of the Los Angeles Times reported that in 1985, Dixon sued Led Zeppelin for royalties and then settled out of court "with a generous settlement to Willie Dixon" who now shares writing credit on all modern printings of the song.

Willie Dixon died of heart failure in 1992. Steve Marriott died in 1991, the victim of a house fire.

Enjoy. We'll see you soon for more of The Song Still Remains The Same, the unauthorized etymology of Led Zeppelin Songs here on the flip-side.

Song of the Week: Howlin' Wolf (featuring Hubert Sumlin) - Smokestack Lightning

Hubert Sumlin died yesterday. He was 80. I would like to think that most everyone knows and appreciates what he did for blues music, but that just isn't the case. Hubert Sumlin was the quiet, diminutive and happy-go-lucky sideman to blues giant, Howlin' Wolf.

Howlin' Wolf first started working with Hubert Sumlin when Sumlin was still a teen, and not terribly confident on guitar. Sumlin played second guitar to Willie Johnson. Where Willie Johnson was aggressive in his playing and his life and would musically go toe to toe with the massive Howlin' Wolf, Sumlin sat back and remained quiet.

When Willie Johnson parted ways with Howlin' Wolf, Hubert Sumlin was moved to first chair. His style had not taken shape and Howlin' Wolf pushed him hard, perhaps too hard. In a wonderful Howlin' Wolf documentary film, Sumlin recounts how Wolf would badger and bully him to be better. As they worked on an important recording, Howlin' Wolf grew impatient at what he felt was Sumlin's lack of originality. As he often did, Wolf sent Sumlin packing. As Sumlin packed up his gear and began to leave the studio, Howlin' Wolf yelled after him something along the lines of "put your guitar pick away. Learn how to play with your fingers and come back with something that will stand out. If you don't trust yourself to play something great then how I can trust you to play something great? You can come back tomorrow and have one more try at it. If I don't like what you have, then I will let (studio musician and Wolf's second guitarist on the session) Buddy Guy take it over." With that, Sumlin recounted, the wallflower that was Hubert Sumlin went home, cried and began on the task Howlin' Wolf had given him: A finger picking guitar riff that would compliment the song. The next morning, fingers raw from a sleepless night of playing his new riff, Hubert Sumlin came back to Chess Studios where Wolf and his band, including Buddy Guy were ready to record. Wolf tersely told Sumlin he better impress and that he only had one chance to do so. Hubert Sumlin sat down and began to play his finger-picking riff in the key of E. After a few seconds Howlin' Wolf interrupted Sumlin's audition and turned to producer Leonard Chess and said, "you ready to record?". With that the band took off on Howlin' Wolf's biographical song, Smokestack Lightning. The guitar riff was unique and catchy and fit perfectly with the song and Wolf's pain stricken tale. The guitar riff would soon be pilfered by Dale Hawkin's own teenage guitarist, James Burton, to create the iconic Suzie Q. Bands like The Yardbirds, Manfred Mann, Creedence Clearwater Revival and a host of others would also mine the guitar riff with great success.

The relationship between Hubert Sumlin and Howlin' Wolf was very similar to father and son. As detailed in James Segrest's book, Moanin at Midnight: The Life and Times of Howlin' Wolf, the two did not always get along, but they always respected each other, looked out for each other and, in the end, were always inseparable. An illustrative tale from the book stands out. While touring thru the South shortly after Wolf had "made it", Howlin' Wolf drove the tour bus late one night to a spot not on the route. Wolf was quiet and tense and the whole band had fallen asleep in the back. Sumlin, sensing something was up, sat with his mentor in the front row and said nothing. Wolf stopped the bus in front of a run-down house and walked tentatively to the front door before eventually knocking on the door. An elderly woman came to the door and and the powerful Howlin' Wolf began to shake and said "Mama, it's me, Chester. How ya doing?". His mother had rejected him years before for a violent incident that happened when a teenage Chester Burnett, now The Wolf, had laid out a man he found on his mother's property. She told him to leave and he had not seen her in the 30 or so years since. That incident, by the way, is the major theme of the song, Smokestack Lightnin' as it is in another of his songs, Back Door Man.  Howlin' Wolf handed the elderly lady a $100 bill, a fortune in the mid-50's. The mother ripped up the money and threw the pieces on the ground proclaiming she wouldn't take money earned by singing the devil's music. With that she turned and went back into the house. The mighty Wolf fell to his knees and wept. Hubert stepped out of the car and walked his friend to the passenger seat and then took over the driving duties. Sumlin only said, "I'm sorry Wolf" and the two never spoke of the incident again. And the rest of the band never woke and never knew of the moment of vulnerability.

Another interesting tale, this time from Robert Gordon's book, Can't Be Satisfied: The Life and Times of Muddy Waters, is when, in one of the common instances of Sumlin and Wolf parting ways, Sumlin quickly got snatched up by arch-rival Muddy Waters. Wolf had more than able musicians filling in, but they weren't Hubert. One night Howlin' Wolf burst into a club on Maxwell street and pushed his way to front and center of the stage and began heckling Muddy Waters for stealing his guitarist. Muddy could give as good as Wolf and began taunting Wolf. After a few rounds, Howlin' Wolf pointed to Sumlin and said something along the lines of "get off that damn stage with these fools, you're my guitarist." At this point the band stopped playing and one of Waters' musicians pulled out a gun (the two books talk incessantly about how many guns and knives were stored in blues musicians' guitar cases). Wolf moved onto the stage and headed right at the man pointing a gun at him and said something akin to "you better put that away before I pull it out of your hands." With that Muddy Waters signaled to the sideman to stand down and Howlin' Wolf unplugged Hubert's amp and walked off.  Hubert packed up his guitar and followed Howlin' Wolf out of the club.

Hubert Sumlin remained Howlin' Wolf's sideman until Wolf died in 1976. Hubert's unique, bouncing and warbling guitar riffs often spoke in retort to Wolf's guttural howls. Any musician knows how important Hubert was to Wolf. Wolf knew it and he would stand up to defend it.

I got a chance to see Hubert Sumlin perform when he was but a spry 75 years old. His skills had diminished, that's for sure. Guitarist GE Smith performed with him and brilliantly would fill a missing part as soon as Sumlin would stumble. But still, at 75, he was a better guitarist with far more style than the vast majority of the strat-n-a-hat SRV clones that fill every blues jam around the globe. I got to shake his hand and see him smile and hear him play. How damn cool is that?

Enjoy this great live performance of Howlin' Wolf with Willie Dixon, Sunnyland Slim, Clifton James and, of course, Hubert Sumlin off on the right of our screen. Dig that crazy guitar work.

Thank you Hubert Sumlin!

Song of the Week: Big Bill Broonzy - Looking For My Baby

Listen - Big Bill Broonzy performs Looking For My Baby

Big Bill Broonzy was born in the late 1800s in Mississippi. He started recording in 1928 and didn't stop until his death (which usually stops most recordings by an artist) thirty years later. Big Bill Broonzy recorded such staples as I'm Gonna Move To The Outskirts of Town, CC Rider and, of course, his most famous song, Key To The Highway, but somehow he is not considered a luminary like Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf or Robert Johnson. It's not for lack of musicianship as his guitar skills were magnificent.

We listen today to his 1941 recording of his original song,  Looking For My Baby. Cool guitar refrains and menacing lyrics mark this warbly recording for Okeh Records. Enjoy. 

Song of the Week: "Shake It Baby", Sunnyland Slim

Listen - Sunnyland Slim performs Shake It Baby!

Sometimes one runs across a record so darn weird that they just need to stop and say "what the hell were they thinking?" This is one of those. The first time I ran across this 78rpm record I was digging on the very low-fi recording for the first 45 seconds of the song. It has a good little rumba beat and a nasty, fuzzed out vocals from a mic that seems to have been buried under the sheets with Sunnyland Slim who sounds as if he recorded his vocals after a very long night. Then, right around 45 seconds, a woman's voice pops in. But unlike Sunnyland's voice, her voice is recorded with a mic that captures the woman's voice crystal clear. The voice is one Anna Lee। Then, very quickly, one realizes what she, and Sunnyland, are singing. Or should I say, negotiating.

I'm shaking it, daddy. Like this daddy? Is this what you want, daddy? Mama's shaking it. Mama's trying to please you this morning, daddy. Want this diamond ring, daddy. How am I doing? Is this the way you want it?

WTF?! And that is only the beginning. Anna Lee continues her call-girl and response with Sunnyland as they negotiate the required duties for the promised Cadillac. This song feels like a little peek behind the scenes of those late night clubs on Maxwell Street in Chicago in the early 50's. Booze, broads, blues, knives and guns.

Enjoy.

Song of the Week: "Burr Clover Farm Blues", Muddy Waters

Listen - Muddy Waters performs Burr Clover Farm Blues.

On a sweltering hot morning in 1941 a large, green Buick Century rolled out of Yazoo City, Mississippi around 8am. Just like it had done for three weeks now, the large sedan with Washington DC plates cut out through the Mississippi Delta on a mission. Enola. Patosi. A brief stop in Holly Bluff for a cup of coffee and the obligatory question that defined the mission. The car turned onto Mclaurin Street past the dusty farm town of Rolling Fork, Mississippi and turned north on highway 61 towards Clarksdale.

It was almost noon when the two occupants -- one white, one black -- pulled into a small store called the Stovall Commissary. It was run by the one farm in town that employed everyone, housed everyone, sold the only goods available, doubled as the post office and served the only liquor for miles around at the on-site juke joint. It was the Stovall Plantation. The drivers of the car walked inside, their hard soled shoes making an echo on the wooden floor. The man behind the counter eyed the strangers closely as the clerk asked if he could help them. "Well, we're hoping maybe you can. You see we're looking for man goes by the name of Robert Johnson," said the caucasian man. "A blues musician who cut some records a couple-few years back. Said to be from these parts," added the other passenger. The clerk thought for a second. "I don't recall no Robert Johnson 'round these parts, no sirs."

The two strangers already knew the answer. It was the same they got wherever they went. The clerk continued. "What'cha looking for him for? He owe you money or something?" The visitors gave a polite chuckle and said "no, nothing like that. It's just that we're from the Library of Congress up in Washington DC, and we're making field recordings of blues musicians from around these parts." The clerk livened up a bit. "Well, sorry I can't help you with old Mr. Johnson, but we've got some pretty good musicians here on Stovall. Guitarists, fiddle players, you name it. Doing some playing tonight. Y'all ought to stay and listen. And maybe somebody know your fellow that you are all looking for."

It had already been a long day and the two visitors took him up on his suggestion. They checked into separate rooms above the Commissary and waited for the night to fall and the heat to abate. When the work day was done the Commissary began to fill with workers cashing their checks on this sweltering Friday evening and drinking grape Nehis. The two wanderers came down and began to ask their question of Mr. Johnson's whereabouts. Some knew him. Some claimed to have seen him just a few months ago. Others said the kid was dead. One even claimed to be Robert Johnson himself. Another dead end. Then a tall balding man with a dirty white shirt and suspenders sat down and began to play the fiddle. When he was done with the first song, one of the historians asked the musicians name. "Son". "Son House?" asked the historian. "No. Son Simms" was the response. "You play with anyone? A guitarist or a singer?" Of course he did. He sent a young boy down to a ramshackle house to go get Simms' friend and musical partner. "And tell him to bring his guitar" was Simms final call to the kid. Not long after a powerfully built young man with sleepy eyes and a devilish smile walked slowly onto the long porch. He wore white shoes and a long sleeve black work shirt. He held in his right arm a wood and steel National guitar. "What's all the hub-bub, Son?" "These here men are from Washington DC, they want to hear some music."

The guitarist sat to the left of Son Sims and looked at the ground for a bit. "How 'bout we do Burr Clover Farm Blues?" The guitarist had clearly been studying at the proverbial feet of Robert Johnson and elder-statesman Son House. The style was undeniable. But the lead lines on the guitar were more stark and boiled down to the core melody of the song. The two historians smiled broadly to each other now. They hadn't found Robert Johnson, but they had something here on the Stovall Plantation. "I'm sorry," said the caucasian historian, Alan Lomax, "but I don't think we got your name." "They call me Muddy Waters" was the short response. The historians asked if Muddy Waters would come over to the back of their car. He warily followed the men to the back of the Buick where they opened up the trunk to reveal a 300 pound "portable" recording machine. "You think we could record that song you just did?" asked the black historian, John Work III. Muddy Waters sat down with his friend Son Simms now picking up a 2nd guitar. The field historians asked everyone to please be quiet. Pressed a button and counted down to Muddy Waters. Waters began to play his own composition, the first recording he would ever make.