bluesQueue

I spent many years in immersed in blues geekdom before hearing about Doctor Clayton, and you could say I'm still figuring out who he is. In 1993, Document Records reissued Clayton's Okeh and Bluebird sides, but his RCA Victor sides (recorded in 1946) are harder to come by. One that I still haven't heard yet is "I Need My Baby," which, according to the literature, B.B. King later covered as "Walking Dr. Bill."

Until yesterday, I hadn't listened to "Walking Dr. Bill" in years. What happened yesterday? Well, I'll get to that. But first let's start with Little Walter.

#1

Little Walter, "Can't Hold out Much Longer" (Checker single 758; recorded on May 12, 1952)

Marion Walter Jacobs arrived in Chicago as a 16-year-old kid in 1946 -- the same year RCA Victor released Doctor Clayton's "I Need You Baby." Here's a fragment of one of the verses (note that I'm extrapolating here, as all I've got on hand is "Walking Dr. Bill"):

I can't sleep sound at night / I just catnap through the day. I can't hold out much longer, people / Living this a-way.

Six years later, Walter recorded "Juke" with the original Muddy Waters band. The B-side was "Can't Hold Out Much Longer," which cribbed the insomniac verse from "I Need You Baby," and added to it a catchy little chorus: 

I'm crazy about you baby / Wonder do you ever think of me? You know I'm crazy ’bout you baby / But you don't care nothing in the world for me.

This chorus wasn't original; Walter lifted most of it from "Crazy About You Baby" (the flip side of "Eyesight to the Blind"), which Sonny Boy Williamson had recorded for the Trumpet label in 1951. Here's the Sonny Boy chorus:

I'm crazy about you baby / I'm just crazy about you baby. I'm crazy about you darling / But you don't care nothing in the world for me.

It's worth pointing out that "Can't Hold out Much Longer" is a slow, almost plodding, blues, while "Crazy About You Baby" is a lightning-fast boogie. They share a chorus, but little else. And while he might have borrowed most of the lyrics, Walter came up with the more memorable song.

This is where we hit a fork in the road. If you head to the right, you get to a bunch of faithful Little Walter covers by the likes of Big Walter Horton, Lightnin' Slim, Fenton Robinson, Magic Dick, Mark Hummel, and Eric Clapton.

And if you head left, you get to Ike & Tina.

#2

Ike & Tina Turner, "Crazy ’Bout You Baby" (From the Outta Season LP on Blue Thumb; released in 1969)

In 1969, Blue Thumb Records released Outta Season by the Ike & Tina Turner Revue. Among the album's thirteen tracks is a swampy, mid-tempo blues that's credited to a Willie Williamson -- i.e., Sonny Boy Williamson.

Lyrically, "Crazy ’Bout You Baby" is just "Can't Hold out Much Longer" with a new verse tacked on:

Sometimes I sit and wonder / What am I gonna do? I guess if I tried hard enough / Then I'd forget about you. I'm crazy about you baby...

Arrangement-wise, "Crazy" is a long way from the studio that Chess & Dixon built -- funky bass line, power-chord accents, and Tina Turner's raspy teasing on vocals. (Walter never got to hear the Ike & Tina version; he died in 1968.)

#3

Ann Peebles, "Crazy About You Baby" (From the This Is Ann Peebles LP on Hi Records; released in 1969)

In the spring of 1969, Ann Peebles broke into the R&B Top 30 with "Walk Away," her first single for Hi Records. Her debut album, released at the end of the year, would include a wah-wah drenched cover of "Crazy About You Baby." Peebles follows the gritty style of the original, but there's a little more contrast here in the backing tracks, which are slick with that Willie Mitchell secret sauce. I think Peebles makes a good run of it (and Teenie Hodges has some nice moments with the guitar part), but "Crazy" falls a little short of her best sides for Hi Records.

#4

Elvin Bishop Group with Jo Baker, "Crazy ’Bout You Baby" (From the Feel It! LP on Epic, released October 1970; the video clip above is from a 1970 Fillmore East performance)

Who was Jo Baker? I hadn't heard of her until I came across this on Quora yesterday. I've since watched the clip about a dozen times. I'm not exactly sure what it is about her -- that she's twenty-two and rocking out at the Fillmore East, that she somehow makes the soul-singer-with-a-jam-band idea a brilliant concept, or that the band is in love with her. Or maybe it's just her presence and the way she owns this song.

A year after Ike & Tina's Outta Season came out, the Elvin Bishop Group recorded Feel It!, with Jo Baker taking on more of the lead vocals. It's not hard to see why.

Actually, it is hard to see why, as those early Elvin Bishop albums are now out of print. And that's why I hadn't heard of Baker until yesterday. I haven't yet tracked down the studio recording of her singing "Crazy ’Bout You Baby." Still, I felt I had to write something. How could I not, after hearing her for the first time?

Sources:

Mark Deming, "This Is Ann Peebles" (album review), AllMusic.

David Edwards, Patrice Eyries, and Mike Callahan, "The Blue Thumb/Banana Album Discography" (November 5, 2005), The ABC-Paramount Records Story.

Jeff Harris, "I'm Behind the 8 Ball Now: Popular Blues Singers of the 1930s" (September 13, 2009), Big Road Blues web site.

Cub Koda, "Bold Soul Sister: The Best of the Blue Thumb Recordings" (album review), AllMusic.

Jo Baker obituary, San Francisco Chronicle (November 14, 1996).

Richie Unterberger, "Feel It!" (album review), AllMusic.

Ron Wynn, "Outta Season" (album review), AllMusic.

Various Artists, The American Folk Blues Festival ’80 (L+R)

When Lippmann & Rau unexpectedly revived the AFBF in 1980, the talent pool was less deep and the budget seems to have been tighter. Louisiana Red, resident in Germany, brought his nagging 'look at me, I'm so blue!' melodramatics to the first two latterday festivals, but 1980's highlight, despite Carey Bell's theremin imitations and Eddie Taylor's flat singing on 'Dust My Broom," was the Chicago band, with Bob Stroger and Odie Payne solidly effective on bass and drums. Sunnyland Slim's voice shows some wear, and his 'New Orleans Boogie' is a paradigm of over-extended tedium, but Hubert Sumlin surprises with a pair of bearable semi-spoken vocals. In this he outshines Willie Mabon, who was well past his prime. Washboard Doc et al. and Eunice Davis never had primes to be past, and swiftly returned to obscurity.

--Tony Russell, The Penguin Guide to Blues (Penguin, 2006)

I was really looking forward to Sunnyland Slim's lost "paradigm of over-extended tedium," but apparently no one is brave enough to post it on YouTube. Here's what I could find:

Louisiana Red's "Look at me, I'm so blue!" melodramatics:

Eddie Taylor's flat singing on "Dust My Broom":

Willie Mabon, well past his prime:

Washboard Doc, Lucky & Flash (with Louisiana Red) just prior to their swift return to obscurity:

We queue. You decide.

Various Artists, Living Chicago Blues, Vol. III (Alligator Records, 1980; reissued in 1991)  Cover photo by Jim Matusik Notes by Jim O'Neal 

In 1977, Freddie [Dixon], Billy [Branch], Lurrie [Bell], and ten other Chicago bluesmen aged 18 to 23 made history in Germany as stars of ‘The New Generation of Chicago Blues,’ a presentation of the Berlin Jazz Festival. To commemorate the event, the group came up with a new song, ‘Berlin Wall,’ which was first performed in public at the Berlin festival.

Grant Green and Herbie Hancock, 1962 Photo by Francis Wolff From "Secret Strings: 10 Most Underrated Jazz Guitarists" by Bill Milkowski (JazzTimes, July/August 2002)

Is he counting off? Or maybe he's telling the band to hold back...or maybe he's just feeling it. Not sure if I will ever figure it out.

Behold, the German expressionists' take on "J.D.'s Boogie Woogie" (1946). From Pina (2011), directed by Wim Wenders.

Horst Lippmann, on the 1964 American Folk Blues Festival tour that traveled behind the Iron Curtain. From I Am the Blues by Willie Dixon with Don Snowden (Da Capo Press, 1989).

(Editor's note: We did not anticipate the Hugh Laurie column to spin off a full-fledged celebrity issue, but here at bQ we are known to occasionally sell out.)

In January of 2008, I bought a ticket at the Kendall Square Cinema for a film starring Danny Glover and Charles Dutton. I'd seen the trailer online, and even though it gave away the entire movie I was still interested enough to go. Then again, I'm an easy sell; hearing boogie-woogie in the trailer was enough to seal the deal.

And so I went. "Honeydripper" was (and remains) the only movie I've ever seen in a theater completely alone. It was a strange experience -- sitting there watching an okay movie (with good acting, decent music) but feeling pensive about the utter lack of an audience for a "blues story."

There were actually three blues stories that reached the big screen in 2007–2008:

Black Snake Moan [trailer] Released March 2, 2007 (Paramount Classics) Stars: Samuel Jackson, Christina Ricci, Justin Timberlake Production budget: $15 million Worldwide box office: $10.9 million  Domestic DVD sales: $12.6 million

Honeydripper Released December 30, 2007 (Emerging Pictures) Stars: Danny Glover, Charles Dutton, Lisa Gay Hamilton Production budget: $5 million Worldwide box office: $545,000 Domestic DVD sales: N/A

Cadillac Records [trailer] Released December 5, 2008 (Sony Music Film) Stars: Jeffrey Wright, Beyoncé, Adrien Brody Production budget: $12 million Worldwide box office: $8.9 million Domestic DVD sales: $11.5 million 

It's a bit unfair to compare financials for "Honeydripper" (which was self-distributed) with the other two films, but I think it's clear that blues is not much of a box-office draw. Each of these films had quality casts and directors, each of them received decent reviews ("Honeydripper" and "Cadillac" more so than "Black Snake"), yet ticket sales were disappointing.

DVD sales/rentals probably earned Paramount and Sony some money on "Black Snake Moan" and "Cadillac Records," respectively (anyone know the P&A budgets? I don't...), but my gut feeling is that we won't be seeing another studio blues movie anytime soon -- unless it involves Angelina Jolie...or possibly Transformers.

But how much does it matter? Does the "scene" really lose out if we are spared another "Black Snake" marketing campaign?

The next crossover blues phenomenon will not be a feature film. It will be on a much smaller scale, probably done on a microbudget. Maybe a viral video. Or a song from the 1920s that someone famous decides to sing on a whim and post on YouTube. Or a piece of graffiti that quotes Tampa Red or Memphis Minnie. Or maybe it's two house cats that can play the right- and left-hand parts of "I Got a Woman" on a Casio keyboard.

I have no idea what it will be. But hey, if you are the one trying to manufacture the next blues breakout, I'll give you a few pointers. One, make sure that it exceeds Samuel Jackson's version of "Stagolee." Two, it really needs to be better than Darnell Martin's fictionalizing of Etta James. And three, please please please make it better Ralph Macchio's air guitar.

Good luck. I know you can do it.

Sources:

John Anderson, "Down South, Singing the Indie Blues," The New York Times (December 2, 2007).

Various contributors, "Black Snake Moan"; "Honeydripper"; "Cadillac Records"; Box Office Mojo.

Various contributors, "Black Snake Moan"; "Cadillac Records"; The Numbers.

Bruce Willis, The Return of Bruno (Motown, 1987)

At the height of Moonlighting mania and after the Seagram's wine cooler commercials showcased his vocal skills, Motown asked Bruce Willis to record a full album of blues, R&B, and soul -- hence, The Return of Bruno...Willis may deeply believe he has vocal talent, but the album stands more as a testament to the excesses of Reagan-era celebrity and baby-boomer nostalgia than as a piece of music.

— Stephen Thomas Erlewine, AllMusic

I guess everyone goes through that "Whammer Jammer" phase sooner or later. I don't have this album. But the smirk alone has got to be worth...something. 

There was one good thing that came out of Reagan-era celebrity: You got to see Albert Collins on TV, if only for a few fleeting seconds.

Junior Parker, James Cotton & Pat Hare, Mystery Train (Rounder, 1990) Cover photo: Junior Parker, Elvis Presley, and Bobby Bland in 1957 (E.C. Withers/Steve LaVere Collection; via Elvis Australia) 

Track list:

Mystery Train - Junior Parker

Love My Baby - Junior Parker

Feelin' Good - Junior Parker

Fussin' and Fightin' (Blues) - Junior Parker

Feelin' Bad - Junior Parker

Love My Baby (alt. take) - Junior Parker

Sittin' Drinkin' and Thinkin' - Junior Parker

Sittin' at the Bar - Junior Parker

Sitting at My Window (Please Baby Blues) - Junior Parker

Cotton Crop Blues - James Cotton

Hold Me in Your Arms - James Cotton

My Baby - James Cotton

Bonus Pay - Pat Hare

I'm Gonna Murder My Baby (Cheatin' and Lyin' Blues) - Pat Hare

-- This is the only picture of Elvis I've got in the house -- from the cover of Rounder's reissue of the early ’50s Sun sessions by Junior Parker, James Cotton, and Pat Hare.

It's not that I dislike Elvis. It's just that, to me, Parker is king.

Bill Cosby, "Don' Cha Know" From Silver Throat: Bill Cosby Sings (Warner Brothers, 1967)

The sudden bQ celeb issue continues with the man who introduced me to the blues (and jazz, for that matter): Bill Cosby.

B.B., Diz, Lena Horne, Joe Williams -- I saw all of them on The Cosby Show in the ’80s well before I ever heard their records. (Granted, at the time my household had a pathetic record collection -- the highlights being a Sesame Street LP and Johnny Mathis's Merry Christmas.)

I was still six or seven years away from buying my first blues records, but I remember being addicted to the show's music, whether it was the opening credits theme song or the funny lip-synch routines set to Ray Charles or James Brown.

I haven't really kept up with Cosby's work since then. But lately I've been perusing The Voice of the Blues: Classic Interviews from Living Blues Magazine, and I came across this line in the chapter on Jimmy Reed:

Even TV comedian Bill Cosby once devoted half an LP to Jimmy Reed material.

Silver Throat: Bill Cosby Sings is still very much in print in the Warner Brothers catalog -- to the point where the Jimmy Reed covers have all been yanked from YouTube. "Don' Cha Know" is still up there, though. Worth a listen...

Erroll Garner and Clint Eastwood, 1970s Universal Pictures/Getty Images

Clint listening to Kessel's Easy Like (with The Greatest Garner on deck), 1959 CBS Photo Archive/Getty Images 

From "Do You Feel Lucky, Monk?" by Nick Tosches (Vanity Fair, December 18, 2008)

-- For some reason I've always procrastinated when it came to catching up on Clint's "musical" side. (I've yet to see Bird, Piano Blues, etc. Actually, I'm behind on his "star" work, too. I think the last movie I saw with him was In the Line of Fire.)

I often hear Eastwood talk about pianists when he does interviews. He sounds much more sincere than when Keanu talks about Chekhov.

Karen Olsson, on visiting the studio of writer and director Mike Judge, who made a living as a bassist in the pre-B-n-B era.

"The Eternal Adolescence of Beavis and Butt-Head" by Karen Olsson (New York Times; October 13, 2011)

It's got to be respect. They got to know exactly what you want. And they've got to be willing, when you're on the stage, to try to sell you instead of selling themselves. I believe in this. When I'm up there, I'm the star. When I'm not, they are. So make mine like I want it while I'm up there or else I'll get somebody that will.

-- Little Milton (1934–2005), in an interview with Lynn Summers and Bob Scheir (Living Blues, no. 18, fall 1974)

I only got to see Little Milton twice, toward the end of his life. The first time was in 2000, at the old House of Blues in Cambridge. A couple hours before the show, I happened to see Milton crossing Mount Auburn Street, and I nearly went up to him to tell him how much I liked his music. 

But the purist in me -- I was reviewing the gig, after all -- insisted on walking right by him, and that's what I did. (He ended up playing a good show, although I wasn't crazy about the cover of "To Love Somebody.")

Four years later I saw him at Antone's with a pickup band that included Derek O'Brien on guitar and Mark Kazanoff on tenor sax. I remember the sound mix being good and the crowd was into it, but onstage Milton looked frustrated, especially during "Walking the Back Streets and Crying."

"Horn man!" he yelled at Kaz. "Horn man! Stop playing the seventh!"

Kaz nodded. Milton then turned to O'Brien on his right and mimed how he wanted the triplets accented in the rhythm guitar part. This was all going down as Milton sang the second verse.

"Walking the Back Streets" is basically a 12-bar blues, but with a few twists. The first verse is 12 bars, but the second is 13 (it has an extra bar on the root chord before moving to the IV). Then there's a four-bar bridge followed by the last verse, which is 16 bars (four extra bars on the root).

At his shows, Milton simplified the song structure to 12-12-4-16, and sometimes he would also omit the bridge (12-12-16). But that's as far as he could trim it; the lyrics in the last verse require 16 bars. 

That night at Antone's, as Milton began singing the third verse, he held up his right index finger and twirled it slowly above his head. It was a signal to the band: "Stay on the I and don't go to the IV yet." (Meanwhile, on the dance floor, twenty or so drunken fans started twirling imaginary lassos above their heads in unison. I remember laughing to myself; "That is power, my child!")

The band, unfortunately, missed the cue and cut the verse short. Milton was pissed; the song had just been robbed of its best line:

She said, "You're a good man, baby, to treat me like you do." She said, "You ain't done nothing to me, but I just can't stay here with you." I stood and watched my baby as far as i could see. You know the girl, she started running (yes she did!) after waving goodbye to me...

(Here's the same link, but cued to the verse above, for context.)

I bring all this up not to trash anybody†. I bring it up to point out how little effect it had on how Milton's performance was perceived that night. Out of the 200 or so people in the room, no one seemed to notice or care about the snafu on "Walking the Back Streets." The band played on, people kept dancing and cheering and buying beer. Milton finished out the verse and went into his guitar solo.

Looking back, I wonder if it bothered him that no one (other than a silent critic standing way in the back) ever missed hearing those four bars. I remember the look on his face; you could tell that he felt he was letting his audience down. But the audience was oblivious. 

Maybe if it had been 1974, when the song was still fresh in people's minds, the reaction would have been different. But 30 years on, listening to "Walking the Back Streets" in a club is a much more marginal experience for people. We still listen with appreciation. We still hope to see great performers (like Milton) convey the feeling of the blues to us. But we tend to demand less of them.

Well, not everyone does. Me, I'm still a stickler...although maybe it's time for me to back off a bit. I mean, it's just four lousy bars, right?

No it ain't!

That's what I imagine Milton yelling at me from the grave: "No it ain't! Those four bars are everything, man. The song is everything! Get it straight!"

All righty then. Stickler it is -- I can live with that.

-- †For the record, Milton was very gracious about the whole thing. After the applause for "Walking the Back Streets," he said something to the effect of: "These guys up here with me, I just wanna say how great a job they're doing tonight, playing with me. We didn't rehearse or nothing -- we're just playing the blues like we know how. Now let's give these guys a hand! How ’bout it? C'mon, ya'll!"

Chuck Berry, Yow (Primo, 2007) Cover photo courtesy of Frank Driggs

...for the most part the collection is way too shoddy to be recommended. (2 out of 5 stars)

-- Stephen Thomas Erlewine, AllMusic

Euro-based budget labels and bootleggers are gonna miss Frank...

Originally I was planning to post Driggs' liner notes for The Real Kansas City of the ’20s, ’30s & ’40s (Columbia/Legacy), but alas the type is microscopic (considerably smaller than his notes for Night Train).

As a consolation prize, here's a handful of pics from the bottomless FDC. Credits below.

(top) Sir Charles Thompson recording session for Apollo Records September 4, 1945 Photograph by Charles B. Nadell Courtesy of the Frank Driggs Collection Published in the notes for Thompson's Takin' Off (Delmark, 1992)

(middle) Myra Taylor recording session Courtesy of Archive Photos/Frank Driggs Collection Published in the notes for The Mercury Blues ’N’ Rhythm Story: Midwest Blues (Polygram, 1997)

Gene Ammons Frank Driggs Collection Published in the notes for Young Jug: Original Chess Masters (MCA, 1994)

(bottom) "Best Wishes from Slim & Slam to Rudy" Frank Driggs Collection Published in the notes for Slim & Slam's The Groove Juice Special (Columbia/Legacy, 1996)

Duke Ellington Frank Driggs Collection Published in the notes for The Best of Early Ellington (MCA, 1996)

"Sincerely, Sister Tharpe" Courtesy of the Frank Driggs Collection Published in the notes for Sister Rosetta Tharpe's The Gospel of the Blues (MCA, 2003)

If you look at the small print within a typical jazz or blues record collection, the name "Frank Driggs" turns up all over the place. Here's a very partial discography (with audio links) ordered by release date.  

1950s

Johnny Hodges & His Orchestra, Hodge Podge (Epic, 1955); Frank Driggs: producer. ("Jeep's Blues" via YouTube)

Tiny Grimes with Jerome Richardson, Tiny in Swingville (Prestige, 1959); liner notes by Frank Driggs. ("Homesick" via YouTube)

1960s

Little Brother Mongomery, Tasty Blues (Prestige, 1960); liner notes by Frank Driggs. ("Tasty Blues" via YouTube)

Shakey Jake Harris, Good Times (Prestige, 1960); liner notes by Frank Driggs. ("Still Your Fool" via YouTube)

Betty Carter, I Can't Help It (Impulse, 1961); Frank Driggs: photography. ("I Can't Help It" via YouTube)

Robert Johnson, King of the Delta Blues Singers (Columbia, 1961); Frank Driggs: editing, reissue producer, producer. (All tracks via hellhoundonmytrail)

Leadbelly, Leadbelly (Columbia, 1962); Frank Driggs: producer. ("Black Snake Moan" via YouTube)

Pee Wee Russell, New Groove (Columbia, 1963); Frank Driggs: producer. ("Red Planet" via YouTube)

Art Tatum, Piano Starts Here (Columbia, 1968); Frank Driggs: producer. ("Tiger Rag" via jazzexposure)

Muddy Waters, Fathers & Sons (Chess, 1969); photography: Frank Driggs Collection. ("All Aboard" via YouTube)

1970s

Robert Johnson, King of the Delta Blues Singers, Vol. 2 (Columbia, 1970); Frank Driggs: compilation producer. (All tracks via hellhoundonmytrail)

Billie Holiday, The Billie Holiday Story, Vol. 1 (1973); Frank Driggs: producer. ("On the Sentimental Side" via YouTube)

Lonnie Johnson, Tomorrow Night (Gusto, 1976); Frank Driggs: photography. ("Tomorrow Night" via YouTube)

Lionel Hampton, The Complete Lionel Hampton (1977); Frank Driggs: producer. ("Stompology" via YouTube)

1980s

Jimmy Forrest, Night Train (Delmark, 1986); Frank Driggs: liner notes, photos. ("Night Train" and a couple others via bQ)

Cab Calloway, Best of Big Bands (Columbia, 1989); Frank Driggs: photos. ("Minnie the Moocher's Wedding Day" via YouTube)

1990s

Bix Beiderbecke, Singin' the Blues, Vol. 1 (Columbia, 1990); Frank Driggs: photography. ("I'm Coming Virginia / Way Down Yonder in New Orleans" via YouTube)

Benny Goodman, The Benny Goodman Sextet Featuring Charlie Christian (Columbia, 1991); Frank Driggs: photography. ("Flying Home" via YouTube)

Chick Web, Rhythm Man (Hep, 1992); Frank Driggs: liner notes. ("Stomping at the Savoy" via YouTube)

Various Artists, West Coast Jive (Delmark, 1992); Frank Driggs: liner notes. (Cee Pee Johnson's "The 'G' Man Got the 'T' Man" via YouTube)

Bukka White, The Complete Bukka White (Columbia, 1994); Frank Driggs: producer. ("Bukka's Jitterbug Swing" via YouTube)

Peggy Lee, Black Coffee and Other Delights: The Decca Anthology (MCA, 1994); Frank Driggs: photography. ("Black Coffee" via YouTube)

Duke Ellington, The Best of Early Ellington (MCA, 1996); photography: Frank Driggs Collection. ("Tishomingo Blues" via YouTube)

2000s

Dexter Gordon, Dexter Digs In (Savoy Jazz, 2005); cover photo: Frank Driggs Collection. ("I Can't Escape from You" via YouTube)

Charlie Christian, Electric (Uptown, 2011); Frank Driggs: liner notes, photos. ("Tea for Two" via YouTube)

Sources:

Margalit Fox, "Frank Driggs, Collector of Jazz Photos, Dies at 81," New York Times (September 26, 2011)

Various contributors, "Frank Driggs: Credits," AllMusic.

The Muddy Waters Band at the Zanzibar, 1954 Frank Driggs Collection

Left to right: Muddy Waters, Henry Armstrong, Otis Spann, Henry "Pot" Strong, Elgin Evans, and Jimmy Rogers.

If you're into Muddy or Jimmy Rogers, you probably know this photo -- it gets around. I'm not exactly sure when I first saw it. Maybe in the liner notes for Chicago Bound, which I first heard in the mid-’90s. Or I might have seen it in a book before that. (The best version in print is probably the one in Robert Gordon's Can't Be Satisfied: The Life and Times of Muddy Waters.)

Sometimes I think every band that has covered "Hoochie Coochie Man" or "That's All Right" ought to have a promo kit photo in which they reenact this shot -- as a kind of inside joke among blues fans. If you're playing and singing Muddy's parts, you sit on the left with the gold-top Les Paul. If you're playing harp, you're in the center, leaning back with your knees up against the amp. And if you're playing those Jimmy Rogers parts, you sit on the right, with your guitar aimed at the camera. 

As for me, my role has always been peripheral. You see the dude holding the maracas behind Spann? That's where I'd be in this photo.