Juke Joint Fever

For me, Juke Joint Fever is the inability to sleep soundly due to a racing mind, irrational risk taking, obscene favor asking and endless worry about rain storms. It’s kind of like spring fever, but instead of wanting to go outside and roll in the early budding tulips on a sunny Seattle day, I am compelled to put all else in my life on hold and head to the Delta.

This time of year always finds me feverish and slightly crazed as I make my annual April trek to Clarksdale for the festival. I find myself singularly and completely self absorbed by the New Roxy and getting it open for the weekend. I show my hapless shipmates photos and get their feedback on flyer design and pickled egg tasting. I get bouts of insomnia as my mind works on booking bands and updating social network pages that I don’t understand how to use. I beg far-flung friends for favors ranging from marketing advice, t-shirt designs to construction help and faxing my beer permit to the distributor. Most of this done from the middle of some ocean while I work at my job as a merchant mariner or like now, from my car as I drive cross country in my trusty Chevy Tracker with a load of various treasures that I can’t get in the Delta.

One has to sometimes wonder why? Why do I do it and why do all the many people I know help me, most often for free or trade, and make the journey to the Delta too?

To me the thing that brings people together first and foremost is the love of music. Once the music brings you to Clarksdale, it becomes the people that also brings you back or convinces you to move there.

As I was getting ready for this April road trip I started making a play list of music that I wanted to share with my friends to help them get in the spirit while they made their pilgrimages from around the country. The play list and my accompanying ‘liner notes’ started to grow as I wanted to share everything all at once, travel tips for my new friends, local gossip for the returning veterans and new artists to I thought they’d like.

I decided what a great blog entry this might be – so here it is. In several installments over the next couple days. Without the fancy hyper links added in because my life just doesn’t allow me time to be anywhere with internet access long enough to really do it up right. If you’ve made it to my blog, you’ll be able to google what interests you all on your own.

From a coffee shop in somewhere Arizona – Here’s my Juke Joint Fever Playlist

Fever by Precious Bryant – For my case of Juke Joint Fever, Precious is one of my favorites and she make this sultry classic something all her own style.

Clarksdale by Daddy Rich – Local artist Daddy Rich has been playing the Issaquena Juke Joint stage since it’s first year. A local that went through the Delta Blues Museum training program, he’s now a teacher and this song has become a local ‘hit’. Look for him again this year on the newly named Mr. Tater memorial Stage during the festival on Saturday.

One Mint Julep by The Clovers – I first heard this classic song on an Oxford American CD. If you swing thru Memphis the Peabody Hotel lobby has the best Mint Juleps and trained ducks to boot.

Big Red’s Place by Big Jack Johnson – Sadly Big Jack recently died but there are sure to be plenty of musicians playing in tribute at Red’s Juke Joint. I call it Blue’s Mecca. If you’ve been to Red’s before you’ll likely recognize who Jack sings about.

Cigarettes and Gin by Uncle Lucious – UL is a young band out of Austin and their two CD’s have become favorites of mine. I met them in Ground Zero one night as they were passing thru as tourists and playing the open mic there. Always on the look out for a band needing a stage I talked them into coming back to the New Roxy after I heard them play. I some friends of mine had asked to set up on stage and play basically for themselves. UL got up and did a couple songs, It was the first time I’d really had an actual band set up to play inside at night and I really didn’t have lights except for a couple strings of X-mas lights across the stage and lanterns on stage. I ended up with a small handful of other folks crazy enough to hang out in a dark roofless movie theater and listen to some awesome music. It was fantastic – hearing for the first time how live music sounded and felt inside the building made a lot of that hard work feel worth while.

Liquor Store by Uncle Lucious – This one’s for Goon’s Grocery store. You can see Goon’s from the front door of the New Roxy. It is an active neighborhood corner grocery with a small deli in the back, beverages and cheap candies on the counter. The liquor is next door, so just ask and they come unlock it for you. Great place to get a something to jazz up your New Roxy Lemonade. The father & son team run the place and are part of the small Chinese community that has long been a part of Clarksdale. The elder Mr Goon is in his 80’s but will spryly stand on a milk carton and boost himself over the counter when he goes to get your pint of gin.

Grass Growing thru Concrete by Porter Davis another Austin group – of adorable young guys that I got turned onto at last year’s Portland Waterfront Blues festival. Their CD has grown on me and this track in particular brings to mind the sidewalks in the New World District. Lots of cracks and lots of grass, the city usually comes thru right before the festival and weed whacks the sidewalks. On the bright side though my friend Dixie Street has been working on a grant that will create a cultural heritage trail thru the neighborhood and honors well know civil rights leader Aaron Henry who’s drug store was located right around the corner on 4^th Ave. Check out Dixie and Stan’s Hambone Gallery while you’re in town for great art and live music.

Clarksdale by OB Buchana – A Clarksdale native that is a successful southern soul blues artist. On this track he sing about his hometown and mention going to see the movies at New Roxy. He is mentioned on the Mississippi Blues Trail Marker out front honoring Sam Cooke and was recently mentioned in an article in the Village Voice about the genre of Southern Soul Blues. (google it!)

Hope you enjoy.

A LOOK BACK

It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost a year since I sat at the computer, trying to do this blogging thing. In one of my many inspired ideas about cool projects to get exposure for the New Roxy, I started this blog along with getting a web page up, but like so many of my other inspired ideas, I got them both started (with the help of a lot of good friends.) but they remain works in progress. I’m sure few people not related to me have actually read any of the earlier posts.

Never enough time, along with fear of public humiliation over my poor grammar and punctuation skills, has put blogging towards the bottom of my long to-do list. However, it’s time for Juke Joint Festival again and I’m once again inspired to try sharing my personal passion with the rest of the world. My friends tell me they enjoy my stories about my mis adventures in the south – maybe they’re just humoring me but maybe you’ll enjoy them too. Here’s a little recap to catch you up on the major happenings at the New Roxy since last April.

Looking back, it’s been a long year for me since the last Juke Joint Festival which was such a great success for the New Roxy. It was the second JJF that the New Roxy was open and marked an important milestone as we reached the end of two years of ‘clean out’ and officially made our first tiny steps towards Rebuilding.

The exhausted after glow of what felt like a triumphantly successful weekend of great music and friends, was shattered for me by the sudden untimely death of my dear friend Romona. With her infectious smile and southern charm she was a familiar face to anyone that came around the New Roxy. I met Romona only a couple years previously while working on my building across the street and though from vastly different backgrounds, we became fast friends. She became an indispensable help to me in so many ways and was the only person I knew with as much insane passion for the New Roxy project as myself. I miss her every time I come back to town and am constantly saddened by the belief that her death was entirely preventable if only she’d had access to affordable basic health care. It’s easy to come to town and enjoy the festivals and unique scrappy culture of the Delta and leave again but the reality remains that life is very harsh for so many people in this economically long repressed region.

One of the things I’ve experienced about life in a small town is that it seems like people die more often – I know it’s not the case, it’s just that every time someone dies, it’s seems like you know them, or you know someone related to them.

In a contrast of reality in Seattle, I’m likely to hear about a traffic accident on the highway on the radio from an up to the minute broadcast and sad to say, my first thought is most likely about the ensuing traffic jam. In Clarksdale, first hearing about an accident on the highway is most likely to happen at the local store or diner along with the news that it’s someone you know.

Another notable Clarksdale loss in the past year was Foster Wiley aka Mr. Tater, the Music Maker. He was a truly unique gem of a person with an inner goodness that always shined bright, but was at the brightest when he was making music. Sometimes it was like magic or voodoo, but Mr. Tater seemed to be everywhere and met everyone that came to town – tourists, journalists, other musicians – if you passed thru Clarksdale you probably have a memory of him. You’ll find many loving tributes to him on his Facebook page – Foster Wiley.

Mr.Tater always had such a positive belief in what I was doing with my properties and more than once brought my spirits up when I was really down about what I was doing in Clarksdale. I’ll always remember Mr. Tater walking into my building on an afternoon when I was particularly questioning my sanity in trying to refurbish an abandoned old building in Mississippi. He looked around and apparently not seeing the same falling in roof and rotting walls and smiled that big grin of his and said “this is gonna be a mighty fine blues club one day”

His steadfast belief coupled with the fact that I actually understood what he said brightened my day. Hey even if opening a blues club wasn’t my plan, there was at least one person in town that didn’t think I was completely nuts, never mind that Mr Tater was maybe not the best judge of a business endeavor, we were maybe kindred souls that way. Mr. Tater will always be missed, but never forgotten in Clarksdale. On April 16^th come by and check out the music at the newly named Mr. Tater Memorial Stage during Juke Joint Festival. The stage that he was the very first act for in it’s first year, will be located in its usual spot on the street in front of the New Roxy.

As if that wasn’t enough blues for the year, we got rained out for our debut as an official Sunflower Blues and Gospel festival stage (second time it rained on that day in 20 years so they say). I poured my heart and soul into getting the New Roxy ready for its big moment to shine - and maybe bring in some money- not to mention once again dragging hapless friends through the bittersweet misery with me. Show time was 30 minutes away and we looked up to watch the dark ominous black clouds roll in as the sound equipment was being set up on stage, 200 chairs were in place, beer was iced, coffee ready and just as the first early rising music fans showed up optimistically, in their rain ponchos, the skies opened up. The dedicated fans in their ponchos were ready to tough it out, but the water pooling on the stage under the portable tents was too much for the sound equipment and the decision was made to move the event indoors.

Despite many low points, there was some good news for the New Roxy in the past year. My friend William and I spent a month in October putting up a proper roof over the stage – mostly just the two of us. It was a monumental task (at least in my mind) and I will be forever in awe at the work William did mostly by himself. He tolerated my ineptness with a hammer and nail gun. (thankfully neither of us was maimed during that phase). Ignored my endless worrying about his time on the really tall ladder, or shimming out on the narrow beams. He survived living in the flophouse and provided me the means of hot showers. The night we were open to celebrate our roof raising was one of those cherished moments that make all the hard parts worth while. To see the building lit up under the starry sky, the stage full with a DJ and his equipment, Good friends and strangers alike came by to celebrate with us. Tourists and locals, black and white, all enjoying and dancing to great music under the stars and legally buying beer from me!

The realization hit me at that moment, that I was now a Blues Bar Owner.

So strange because I’ve said ever since I bought the flop house 6 years ago, I never, intended to open a blues bar – that’s what everyone else was doing.

I cried a little at that moment - Romona should have been behind the bar with me, charming the customers, but her picture and spirit will always be there.