image courtesy of THE VINYL MASTERS http://www.thevinylmasters.com/
An important message concerning The Candymen & Beaverteeth from Dave Morris at THE VINYL MASTERS:
Hi again Robert,
Here's two good mp3 files folks can link to for a bit:
And - maybe you can help me here too. I just acquired sealed copies of the 2 Candymen LP releases, and plan to master them to CD as well. I've been trying to locate a 45 of 'Go And Tell The People / It's Gonna Get Good In A Minute" to add as 'bonus tracks' if at all possible (I've already found a 45 of "Happy Tonight / Papers" to add to these). I've given copies of our ARS and Beaverteeth material to Rodney Justo and Dave Adkins, as well as a couple other earlier members of the band (standard procedure for us actually!). The same would apply here for the Candymen material as well. Might you know anyone who would have a usable 45 of this that would be willing to 'donate' it for transfer purposes only (they would get it back, along with copies of the CD's as a thank you). Any help you can lend is greatly appreciated! Once it's completed, we offer it to the band members, and ... who knows? Maybe we'll find a way to get these released commercially, so all may enjoy them again!
The Vinyl Masters
image courtesy of http://paulcochran.com
THE ATLANTA RHYTHM SECTION IN 1970
Left To Right
Barry Bailey - Paul Goddard - Dean Daughtry
Robert Nix - J. R. Cobb - Rodney Justo
Received word today that Paul Goddard, the amazing bass player for ARS, is going into the hospital on Monday June 11 for back surgery.
In the coming days, let's all keep Paul in our prayers.
Everybody here in ZERO, NORTHWEST FLORIDA sure appreciates Robert Nix joining in and helping Jimmy Dean get his facts straight. The following is the corrected version of Jimmy's reminiscences:
John Rainey Adkins' group was first known as Spider and the Webs. I used to sit on his doorstep and listen to them rehearse and go next door and buy
After a few years, Bobby struck out on his own and the group tried out several different singers for a while. In '63 or '64, John Rainey got into a squabble with Roy about something---he told me it was because he didn't like flying, which made little sense since Roy's tour bus stayed in John Rainey's driveway when they were off. Anyway, John Rainey came back to Dothan and restarted the Webs--the other group was no longer using the name--with new musicians except for Amos Tindall, the Webs' original bass player. Amos decided to quit music for the second time, and John Rainey started teaching me their songs (I was in school and had been playing bass in a local band).
The day I graduated from Dothan High School, I took over as bass player in that version of the Webs. But John Rainey had patched up his disagreement with Roy by then, and he left to go back on the road. Buddy Buie, the original Webs' manager, was also manager of our group. After a few months, he took our singer, Wilbur Walton, Jr., and me, and put us with three musicians from , and named our new group the James Gang. This was in October of 1964, before the other group with was formed. We had several regional hits in the South, including Buddy and John Rainey's song, "Georgia Pines."
cigarettes for John Rainey. One of their first gigs was on a flat bed trailer at the bowling alley here in Dothan. "Spider" Griffin left for , and after a while joined the group. Buddy Buie started booking shows, and one in Dothan starred . As the Webs's manager, he put them on the show backing up Orbison. They got the job as 's road band after that show, which was I think in '60 or '61.About this same time, the Orbison backup group, with John Rainey on guitar, Robert Nix on drums (replacing Paul Garrison), and Bill Gilmore on bass, hired a keyboardist we all called "Little Bobby" Peterson. After several attempts at finding a singer, they hired Rodney Justo of , singer of a Florida group called the Mystics. They became the Candymen. Little Bobby got drafted, and Dean Daughtry took over on keyboards.
Our group, the James Gang, burned out in 1970, and by that time John Rainey was back in Dothan playing with a group he had formed with his younger brother David, working in clubs and as studio musicians at Playground Studio in the . In May of 1972, he hired me as bass player. The group was called Beaverteeth.
Dean and Robert Nix were in working as studio musicians at Buddy's new studio with Barry Bailey, J. R. Cobb, and Paul Goddard. Rodney Justo joined them and they became The . Rodney didn't stay with them for long. The next thing we heard was that he was working for . In the spring of 1973, he called John Rainey and said B. J. needed a backup band, so that is how we got that job. B. J. came to Dothan and we rehearsed a couple of weeks at my father's warehouse, and we hit the road right after that.
We worked with B. J. until the summer of 1975, when he hired new management with whom we didn't get along. We came back to Dothan, and our singer, Charlie Silva, was found to have cancer and had to quit. John Rainey called Rodney, and he came up from and became our lead singer. We played clubs until the end of the year, but at this time disco music was replacing the Southern rock I had enjoyed so much, so I quit music for good in February of 1976. They hired another bass player and carried on for a couple more years, even putting out one or two albums, but it didn't work and Beaverteeth folded.
John Rainey and David joined a country band that played around for several years, then John Rainey went to work at a music store in Dothan. Charlie Silva lost his battle with cancer, Rodney Justo went back to , and I went into the advertising business as a commercial artist, also in Dothan. John Rainey and I stayed in touch---I freelanced as a political cartoonist, and he liked to do cartoons too, so often he would call me at midnight to talk about my latest cartoon. He is the one who called me and told me Roy was dead. A year or so later, somebody else called me and told me John Rainey was dead.
I was a pallbearer at his funeral, so I suppose we were friends to the end.
James L. (Jimmy) Dean
SPRINGTIME by Pierre Auguste Cot
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image courtesy of http://www.amazon.com/Looking-Up-At-Down-Pb/dp/0877227225
image courtesy of http://www.indiana.edu/~jah/teaching/2004_03/article.shtml
WILLIAM "PIANO RED" PERRYMAN
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This cat named William Barlow wrote literally a blues encyclopedia in '89 called LOOKING UP AT DOWN: The Emergence of Blues Culture.
Dr. Barlow interviewed William "Piano Red" Perryman at Wolf Trap, VA in August of '81.
"Piano Red" composed RIGHT STRING, BABY, BUT THE WRONG YO YO which was covered by Wilbur Walton Jr. & The James Gang in the mid Sixties.
Check out what "Piano Red" had to say:
You couldn't make a livin' playin' them rent parties, but you could have a good time. You could make a little something extra, eat and drink all you want, and hang around with the other musicians. There was a lot of piano players back then. Old Soup Stick was a good one, played that low-down blues. Then there was them boys from Spartanburg I used to run around with- Ted Wright and Colfield West. Oh, there was a lot of them, but mostly they didn't have no names- just come and go.
(Dr. Barlow continues...)
Unlike most of Atlanta's blues piano players, Piano Red remained based in Atlanta for his entire career, which spanned five decades. He made his first recordings with Blind Willie McTell in the mid 1930s; then in the postwar years he became "Dr. Feelgood," the popular host of a daily blues radio show broadcast on WERD.
Throughout the 1920s, Atlanta was the major race recording site in the South and therefore attractive to migrant blues musicians. The two major race record labels active in Atlanta were Okeh and Columbia.
The man responsible for the Okeh recording sessions in the city was Polk Brockman, a white Atlanta native who got into the record business after taking over the phonograph department of his father's furniture store. Brockman had little interest in the blues, but when he realized that money could be made selling black secular and sacred recordings, he made a deal with Ralph Peer at Okeh Records. In essence, Polk Brockman became Peer's surrogate in Atlanta, and eventually in other southern cities like Birmingham, New Orleans and Dallas. The best-known rural blues artists he signed for recording sessions included the Mississippi Sheiks and Blind Lemon Jefferson. On the local black music scene, he preferred the vaudeville performers who played at the 81 Theatre; it was there he came across Eddie Haywood, and famous comedy duo of Butterbeans and Susie and arranged recording sessions for them. His most prolific and profitable recording artist was a local preaching phenomenon, the Reverend J. M. Gates, who had a large following in Atlanta's black community. Later in the decade, Brockman was joined by Frank Walker of Columbia Records, who made frequent trips to Atlanta to supervise recording sessions. Among those he recorded were Lillian Glinn and Blind Willie McTell.
Barlow 'bout knocked me down when he used the following 1937 quote from a local black newspaper in Dallas to open Chapter 7- "STORMY MONDAY": Urban Blues in the Southwest:
Down on Deep Ellum in Dallas, where Central Avenue empties into Elm Street and Ethiopia stretches forth her hands. It is the one spot in the city that needs no daylight saving time because there is no bedtime, and working hours have no limits. The only place recorded on earth where business, religion, hoodooism, gambling and stealing go on without friction.
NOW IF DAT DON'T SOUND LIKE THE NEIGHBORHOOD AROUND THE INTERSECTION OF 30TH & 25TH HERE IN TUSCALOOSA, I DON'T KNOW WHAT DOES!
Barlow saves his most profound thoughts for his conclusion on page 346 of his book:
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. In mainstream American society, integration on the job and in the schools is mandated by law, but social space remains color- and class-coded. That is, people work together and share public accomodations and services, but spend their leisure time in separate communities according to race and social class, in that order. The blues culture runs contrary to this sort of social stratification, especially where color is concerned. What began as a black proletarian cultural formation a hundred years ago has been transformed by succeeding generations of blues people into a novel interracial melting pot. In particular, the postwar transference of the blues tradition from an old black working-class generation to a younger white middle-class generation has sent ripples of unconventional social relations throughout the society.
The magnitude of this cultural exchange is unprecedented in the history of race relations in the United States. Not that all is peace, harmony, sisterhood, and brotherhood in the blues community. The historical legacy of racism must still be overcome, and there are class, generational, and gender differences that need to be breached. But at least there exists the possibility of some cross-cultural communication and even conflict resolution, if only because people are already bound together by their common love and respect for the music. This proclivity to break down cultural barriers and to refashion race and social relations along more egalitarian lines gives the blues culture its utopian potential and positions it as a radical alternative to the color-coded, hierarchical dominant culture.