# 23 The Beginning of the Big Bands

    By the beginning of 1967, it has been a long, sometimes difficult road reaching the Butterfield band's current level of success. Many of the most skilled people in the music business have worked hard on their behalf, but the key player has always been the boss, Paul Butterfield. Off the stage, he has a reputation as being socially aloof, difficult, demanding, and at times, down right caustic. However, he is also known as a musician who strives to be his best at all times, and in addition to this gift, he also has an ear for talent in other people.

    Similar to all successful leaders, Butterfield surrounds himself with high caliber talent who can help him successfully reach his destination. When Bloomfield leaves the band in early '67, it creates a big void, but it also provides new opportunities for Butterfield explore different musical directions. After the moderate success of East West, his band is in even more demand, headlining concerts, and consequently, everyone is making more money. These financial rewards will provide him with the capability to expand his band in away that he could never accomplish in the past.  

    For Bishop, the departure of Bloomfield is a windfall.  He recognizes that he lacks the combination of  musical finesse, and stage charisma of Bloomfield, but he prepares to work at over coming these liabilities. So, he practices constantly, and then using time off to visit local jazz and blues bars. Many the accomplished musicians he hears and meets are hard bop players like Roscoe Mitchell and Lester Bowie who belong to the non-profit Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM). One of the saxophone players he meets during these visits is Louisville, Kentucky native Gene Dinwiddie.


     Dinwiddie is a late bloomer, he doesn't start playing saxophone until he's 19, but like so many great musicians, he develops a spiritual connection with the instrument. By 23 he is duplicating the tone and solos coming out of players like Harold Land and Sonny Stitt. In the mid-60s, the live Jazz audience is shrinking, so he has to drive a public transit bus for the City of Chicago to support playing Free Jazz in the downtown clubs at night. During the period when Bishop is making the rounds in the jazz clubs the two develop a bit of friendship, so, when Butterfield mentions that he would like to add some horns to his band,  Bishop doesn't hesitate to refer Dinwiddie's name.

    As it turns out, Butterfield and Dinwiddie have met before, back the in the days when Butterfield's band is becoming a draw at Big John's. After some jamming, Butterfield is impressed with Dinwiddie's playing, and his scope of musical knowledge, that he hires him as the first member of his new horn section. Butterfield knows that it is difficult to find musicians of Dinwiddie's caliber as many of the Jazz musicians see blues and rock bands as a step down from Jazz. For Butterfield, the hire is a real accomplishment. Now, he only needs to find a trumpet player to complete the horn section.

    Fortunately, Dinwiddie refers Butterfield to 27 year old Keith Johnson who is playing Free Jazz in New York's West Village, and supporting his music by driving a delivery truck. At six foot three and 210 pounds, Johnson is nicknamed"Twiggy", by the time he arrives to the city in 1963. Almost immediately, he begins working in several local jazz, blues and rock bands. He loves Lester Young's playing, and Billie Holiday's singing, as well as, Charlie Parker and Don Cherry. When Johnson meets Butterfield, the two strike up a good relationship based on their mutual love of similar artists.  Butterfield is also impressed with how well rounded Johnson is as a musician; not only does he play jazz, blues, and rock, but he plays the organ too. So, Keith Johnson becomes the Butterfield Blues Band's second member of the horn section. 

    For Butterfield, the increase in the size of his band means more freedom to play a larger variety of music, but it also means that he has more people to motivate toward the new direction. Similar to all great artists, he know that while technique is important, it is subservient to the ability to making creative contributions to the music. He has found this quality in  Dinwiddie and Johnson as both are excellent musicians who can read, write and interpret music, but they can also improvise, and that is an most important quality to Butterfield. This ability to improvise well is not as much a learned skill as it is a gift, and both Dinwiddie and Johnson have it.   

    While the new horn section offers new possibilities for exploring new material for the band, it also demands a new approach to the existing repertoire. So, the new band assembles in New York, launching into an intense schedule of rehearsals as well as gigs up and down the East Coast. Then, more personnel problems confront Butterfield.

    In early spring, Jerome Arnold submits his resignation, sighting musical differences. Butterfield immediately starts the process of looking for a new bass player to fill the position, desperately requesting referrals from other musicians. You would think the task of finding the right musician an easy one, as there are so many young and eager players available in the 60s, but to find someone who is just the right fit, can be a challenge.

    While out on the road, Butterfield mentions his situation to drummer Buddy Miles, who refers him to Bugsy Maugh. He respects Miles' opinion enough that he hires Maugh without hearing, or meeting him. Originally from Missouri, Maugh moves to Omaha for a career playing music in strip bars, country bands, and manages a brief job in Wilson Pickett's band. Like Dinwiddie and Johnson, Maugh is having a tough time, and is driving a truck to make ends meet.

Maugh has never heard of Butterfield, or heard any of his music, but when Butterfield entices him with the promise of lots of work and more money, he quickly packs his bags for the trip to Montreal. 

    In spite of his motivation toward the money and work, he is impressed with the quality of the band's musicianship, in addition, Arnold and the band are willing to stay for "instant after hours rehearsal" in an effort to get him integrated quickly. From Butterfield's point of view, the Maugh's hire is yet another real bandleader accomplishment. He has always wants to share the solo vocal work, but never has anyone who can match his strengths as a solo singer, and Maugh is not only excellent bass player, but he can sing too.


    While the new band works the East-Coast circuit, rehearsing new arrangements, Albert Grossman informs them that they will need at least 30 minutes of music for a large California rock festival in mid-June. The Monterey Pop Festival is expected to draw between 50 and 100 thousand people, so it will be the first major gig for the new band, and it will also be their largest audience ever. Just to add to the pressure, the whole festival will be filmed for international release in theaters the next year. Later they will discover that they will be sandwiched between Al Kooper and The Electric Flag. Fans will be watching for the first of the new Butterfield Blues Band big band lineups, he will have a few,  the biggest rock festival of 1967 could make or break them.

    Throughout the history of popular music, all the great bandleaders will concede that finding talented musicians is one problem, but keeping them employed, and getting them to move in the same direction as the leader has its own special challenges. Unlike the image of many of the young rock bands of the early sixties Butterfield's band is not composed of friends he knew from his neighbourhood.  He builds his bands based on the musician’s contributions to the music. As examples, even though Bishop is a friend, he places him in the position of second guitarist because he hears the value in the contribution Bloomfield will make to the music. (Keep in mind that Butterfield didn't want Bloomfield in the his band, nor did he want to record Born in Chicago or East West for that matter. While these issues may be representative of Butterfield's reluctance toward accepting outside ideas, it does show that he recognizes good ideas and accepts them, even if he does it reluctantly.)

                                             

# 22 East West & everything in between

   So much of the music we experience is the result of the media industry toying with our imaginations. It's nothing new, artists in every genre have had their stage profiles manufactured, and then a trademark is taken out on a logo to prevent identity theft.  The Rolling Stones and The Beatles are a couple of high profile examples of this reality. But what about a bluesman or a blues band? Blues fans tend not of their favourite artist's public persona as a product of a marketing department.

   For Elektra, the experience surrounding The Paul Butterfield Blues Band has a learning curve attached. They've never recorded electric music up to this point, or marketed to the new rock market, so, they make plenty of mistakes. However, they do learn quickly, and make a point of establishing a new more methodical strategy for the band's second album East West.

    Elektra invests a lot of their resources in selling this character Paul Butterfield: The White Bluesman, and the investment does reap some rewards. The FM radio stations help the first album crawl up the U.S. Billboard charts to peak at # 123, and in the process, Mike Bloomfield's reputation as the major American guitar hero of his generation is solidified, and this helps sales. A lot of the album's success can be attributed to the music as well as the promotion, but Butterfield is also a strong bandleader too. He is a disciplined leader, rehearsing his band six days a week, even while they are engaged in the relentless touring. Butterfield also has the ability of choosing excellent musicians, and then drawing the best from their talents, so he plays an important role in the band's past and current success.

    All this potential success also means that there is a lot at stake for both Elektra, and Butterfield. There is a contract securing several future album releases, as well as significant the business advantages offered from manager Albert Grossman inclusion which add to the potential for success.  In Butterfield's world, it's a lot of people that he needs to please, but he recognizes this fact, and appreciates that he is earning the type of confidence most artists will make serious sacrifices to maintain.

   By late '65, the Butterfield Band has developed a cult following on the West Coast, so Elektra decides it's a good time to capitalize on this success. The only thing missing is a hit record like some of the young British Invasion blues rock bands are enjoying.

    So, in a effort to protect their investment, Elektra changes the name of the band from The Paul Butterfield Blues Band to the alliterated Butterfield Blues Band. It even takes out a copyright on the font used in all the band's promotions. They have done their market research, concluding that Butterfield's audience is: twenty something, white, middle income, educated, socially and politically liberal, with minds open to new experiences. This knowledge reflects in the East West cover photos of the band standing outside the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago rather than outside a south side head shop. The manufactured persona of the band members is changed too. They now look more like hip young University students rather than the street wise kids shown in the first album photos. Even the liner notes are filled with overt, and subtle references to a classical education. In modern business parlance it's called branding. It's good for Elektra's business, but for Paul Butterfield, it means he will never be able to leave Elektra, and take his band's name with him.

    The irony of Elektra's marketing strategy is that the Butterfield Blues Band is not a blues band anymore. They are brashly marketed as a blues band as part of the release of their first album, but it is arguable whether they can be legitimately referred to as Blues Band.  As I mentioned in post #21, it seems easier to define the music of the Butterfield band with descriptors about what their music isn't, rather than what it is. By the time they release the album East West, the band is performing Jazz, Blues, Rhythm and Blues, as well as Rock, and I still think the jury is out on a definition for the instrumental East West. I propose the best label for most of Butterfield's music is eclectic, but I have never seen this label in any retail outlet. Personally, I like to think of most of his work as, post-war, urban, electric American roots music, but that is a mouthful, so lets just use the word eclectic.

    The song selection on the album reflects this diverse direction too. In addition to Nat Adderley's Hard Bop cross over hit, Work Song, there is a collection of traditional blues numbers like Robert Johnson's Walkin's Blues and Muddy Waters' Two Trains Running, but then, there is also a great version of Lee Dorsey's 1965 Rhythm and Blues hit Get Out of My Life Woman. Ultimately, the whole album is diverse in its musical scope, and should put to rest any illusions of the Butterfield Blues Band as a traditional post war Chicago blues band.

    Even the recording process for the album is eclectic, or maybe a little scattered. They start recording in January of '66 at Mastertone Studios in New York, then record bits and pieces at Chess Studios in Chicago, and continue work in L.A.. As an example, Work Song is recorded in three studios before being edited for the final release in August of '66.

    After the album release, the Michael Nesmith penned, Mary, Mary provokes some minor controversy. In the mid-sixties, Nesmith is a songwriter, and actor who is hired as an actor in the tween pop group, television show The Monkees. The Butterfield Blues Band records their version of Mary, Mary well before Nesmith achieves success on the television program, but the press raises questions of  artistic hypocrisy...Butterfield's music is suppose be representative of the West Coast Counter Culture, and the Monkees represent everything the counter culture rejects. I don't know if the controversy is a legitimate byproduct of the social politics of the day, or a creation of a marketing department, but it probably helped in the album promotion.

    In the quest for a mainstream hit, Elektra, and Butterfield make an attempt in that direction by hiring a young Barry Friedman to produce Come On In/ I’ve Got a Mind to Give Up Livin’, solely for the UK market. The single is released in November on the London label (they're the American arm of Decca Records in England), but it does gain any notable traction. In the U.S. they release the single All These Blues/ Never Say No, but it doesn't chart either. Even though the release of the singles don't gain them a lot of mainstream success, the publicity is priceless, plus they are performing well in the FM market, and selling out live shows. In the end, East West does manage to wrestle its way up the Billboard charts to peak at #65, which is a better position than the first album.

    There is an additional element about East West that should be mentioned here. Many fans lament the fact that the album marks the end of one of the best configurations of the Butterfield band. The departure of Sam Lay after the first album release is only the beginning of the many personnel changes Butterfield will weather over his career. Late in 1966, Jerome Arnold leaves, sighting artistic differences, he pretty much drops out of the music business, and is never heard from again. Billy Davenport grows tired of the incessant touring, choosing to return to the stability of his life in Chicago.

    Many fans will argue that the biggest loss is when Bloomfield decides to leave the band too. At the time, there is some speculation in the press that his departure is the result of too much personality friction between him and Butterfield. There are even reports of physical confrontations between the two, but I think that it is more likely that Bloomfield succumbs to the sleepless nights traveling across the country, often in close quarters, plus is increasing fame. If he doesn't get along with Butterfield on a personal level, that is not reflected in the number of projects they both contribute to in the future. There may well have been some personality issues, but there is also a lot of professional, and musical respect between the two.

    In defense of Butterfield, if any readers have ever been charged with the responsibility of having a group of people complete a task which will be presented to third parties, you will have some empathy for him, and the pressures he faces everyday. He is the bandleader, responsible for hiring, then leading his musicians in the creation, and performance of his music. I know from my own experiences as a boss, this can be challenging. Butterfield is a very young man in the mid-sixties, and not a seasoned bandleader. However, the fact that he leads his band up to East West, and then through several years of tours, and albums is a testament to his leadership abilities. After all, he is the bandleader who brought us a great group of musicians, as well as two of the most important albums in the history of 1960s popular music. As we will see in future blogs, he recovers from many professional set backs, and still goes on to explore, create, and perform some of the best music of a generation.

   So, in the end, the newly minted Butterfield Blues Band  is whittled down to Butterfield, Bishop, and Naftalin. Bishop is the big winner here because his role within the band changes from second guitarist to the main attraction in a world of Rock and Roll guitar slingers. The changes also open the door for Butterfield to pursue other musical experiments which he does.

    Fortunately,  Elektra's marketing strategy doesn't do much to bring the band as deep into the mainstream as they intend. In the coming years more attempts will be made, but eventually there will be a realization that the Butterfield Blues Band is more about good music than mainstream pop hits.

Set list:  Walkin’ Blues, Get Out of My Life Woman , I Got A Mind To Give Up Livin’ , All These Blues, Work Song, Mary, Mary ,Two Trains Running, Never Say No, East-West.

 Paul Butterfield, vocal and harmonica, Mike Bloomfield - guitar, Elvin Bishop guitar & (vocal
on Never Say No), Mark Naftalin, organ, piano, Billy Davenport, drums, Jerome Arnold - Bass

The video is Mary, Mary!

                                                                       



 

# 21 East West Live

   So, the second World War ends in late 1945, thousands of young American soldiers are elated to return home, settle into the more stable world of marriage, and as a result, millions of happy babies are born. In fact, by 1946 the United States is witnessing the beginning of the largest baby boom in its history. All of these new parents want life to be different for their kids, and encourage them to pursue an education as means of improving their opportunities.

    As it turns out, life really is different these baby boomer kids.  They are more urbanized, healthier, and better educated than their parents generation, and they seem to have more friends too. However, if all goes well, babies grow up into young adults, and often, this is when some socialization problems begin. Not only do these kids want a world different from their parents, they want a complete overhaul! This request for change from young people is nothing new, but because of the numbers, the demands are louder.

    All intelligent young people question the sense of a world that is seems to have been created by the previous generation. What they see is the apparent unnerving reality of a stifled middle class life in the suburbs, so many of them rebel. They want more social freedom, and the political change that comes with it. These baby boomers are hungry for new experiences, but new experiences require experimentation.  

    One of the important figures to tap into this desire for experimentation is New York psychologist Dr. Timothy Leary. He starts using psychedelic drugs in the late fifties, and by the mid sixties he is publicly promoting the awareness benefits of  LSD (lysergic acid diethylamide) or acid to rebellious youth. In the minds of many young people, Leary is a high profile example of someone who has successfully left the confines of their expected life, so, they adopt him as an important figure in their quest for social change. Then in 1966, Leary tells everyone who is listening to "Turn on, Tune in and Drop Out".  The borrowed phrase, and everything it suggests becomes popular enough that the elites of counter culture movement embrace his ideology, the media solidifies his profile, and young people eagerly jump on the bandwagon.

   Then, many young people, who might be using using alcohol, and smoking marijuana, start experimenting with hallucinogenic drugs like magic mushrooms, peyote, mescaline, and of course LSD. Parents feel ambushed! Their worries become the concerns of politicians, who console them with words, but it's too late, change is here. Gradually, the language of psychedelic drugs seeps into the mainstream with vocabulary about trips,  psychedelic colours. People are turning on to new ideas, and dropping out of society. Even the styles of clothes, movies, books, and of course the music they embrace changes. Much of it reflects the new culture surrounding psychedelic drugs. 

    Like many other hip young musicians of the day, Mike Bloomfield is experimenting with acid too. On one all night trip, he has revelations into the workings of Indian music while improvising on a song written by friend Nick Gravenites. As the Butterfield band's keyboardist Mark Naftalin explains to music critic Dave Marsh, 

"The song was based, like Indian music, on a drone. In Western musical terms, it 'stayed on the one'. The was tethered to a four-beat bass pattern and structured as a series of sections, each with a different mood, mode and color, always underscored by the drummer, who contributed not only the rhythmic feel but much in the way of tonal shading, using mallets as well as sticks on the various drums and the different regions of the cymbals. In addition to playing beautiful solos, Paul [Butterfield] played important, unifying things [on harmonica] in the background - chords, melodies, counterpoints, counter-rhythms. This was group improvisation. In its fullest form it lasted over an hour."

So, the results of his acid experience becomes an instrumental called "Raga Rock", but after many performances, the title changes to "East West". The creative chronology and technical aspects of "East West" warrants a more complete dissection than I can possibly offer in this brief blog, so I will leave that more complete analysis for you to pursue from other sources. It's contribution to musical history is the most important part of the instrumental.

   "East West" changes the direction of music in the 1960s, and those changes can still be heard today. It isn't jazz, but it has a jazz sensibility to it. It isn't blues either, yet you can hear blues in it. It isn't rock, but there is the rock tempo, and instrumentation. It evolves from a folk music, but it sure doesn't sound like folk music. It's a difficult question: What is "East West"?, but that is part of what makes its contribution to popular music so important. In the mid-sixties, nobody is composing, and performing music like it. I like to think of "East West" as an early example of post war, urban roots music or Electric Americana. It deserves a good name?

   During its growth as a significant work of art, the live performances of "East West" are part of what solidifies the Butterfield Blues Band as a group that
listeners must experience live. I have one live recording where Butterfield announces that they are going to "close out the set" with "East West", and there is thunderous applause. When the band performs it at The Fillmore, there is a light show behind the band (see blog #17), and sometimes, Bloomfield eats fire as part of the stage performance. Like good bop jazz, each performance is different, with improvisations that can stretch from thirty to sixty minutes. As jazz musician Wynton Marsalis says, when he describes great music, "Sustain intensity equals ecstasy", I think "East West" fits into that description beautifully.

    In the mid-sixties, no other rock band of the era is doing anything like it, consequently, "East West" sets many benchmarks for all other bands of the period.  The era of the long, sometimes overly indulgent guitar solos, by bands like The Grateful Dead, The Allman Brothers and many more, probably originates with the success of "East West". Some critics even credit Miles Davis' fusion of Electric Jazz with rock in 1968 to "East West" as he was a fan of Bloomfield's work.

   Most often, the attention given to "East West" is focused on its creation, Bloomfield's guitar work, and the individual performances, but Butterfield's contributions to the song always seems to remain a footnote. Keep in mind that Butterfield is essentially a blues harmonica player at this point, and so his solo is unique. When I listen to his contributions on "East West", I feel like he is almost out of his element, forced into stretching his abilities, but he succeeds in face of the challenge. I can not think of a single harmonica player in blues, or for that matter, in jazz, who is performing solos like he is at this time.

   Many of the baby boomers who listen to "East West" in the sixties are now within reach of senior citizen status, most of whom will probably only visit the instrumental for nostalgia's sake. Guitarists are still fascinated with it, and good historians recognize its importance, but for the mainstream, the ecstasy of "East West" is a forgotten experience.

   For a few reasons, I have intentionally chosen to post the studio version of "East West" below. When writing this post I made the assumption that many readers have not heard the song. This may also explain the rather thin background history I provide at the beginning.

    In addition, some of the bootleg versions including the Naftalin collection, East West Live lack solid sound quality. Also, with consideration to listening with modern ears, sometimes the guitar solos can present themselves as a little too self-indulgent. So, with these considerations in mind, I think it a good idea to make the first listening experience as positive as possible. If you want to hear some of the other live performances of "East West", either buy East West Live on Winner Records, or listen to some bootleg copies on YouTube.

Paul Butterfield: harmonica, Billy Davenport: drums, Jerome Arnold: bass, Mike Bloomfield: guitar and Elvin Bishop: guitar, Mark Naftalin: keyboards.

                                                             

# 20 Mayall, Butterfield and Greens

    For the fans, it's about the entertainment, and for most artists, it is about the rush of performing their music live, but for everybody else, it's about the money. Each time an artist takes their music out on tour, it's a potential marketing opportunity. Everyone from bartenders selling drinks to the artist's label have the primary interest of making money from artist's performances.

    So, in an effort to expose Butterfield to a new market, his management and label invests some capital into the November 1966 tour of England. Personally, I think, the band, and especially Butterfield, are really over worked from the unrelenting travel, extra performances, and media interviews. I don't know how any of them can remember the whole experience by the time it's over. In addition to the demanding expectations, Paul is expected to record with the British bluesman John Mayall.

   The October of '65 release of The Paul Butterfield Blues Band caters to the merging of folk, blues, and rock audiences with Chicago Blues standards and a few originals. It is a really well crafted revivalist album by some of the best young musicians of an era. The fact that the album is still in print nearly fifty years after its release is a testament to its credibility as a classic album.

    Credentials are an important factor in promoting all blues artists, and Elektra has the good sense to promote the background of Butterfield and his band members in a way which serves heighten the listening experience for fans. Everything from the album cover photo and liner notes, to the stories about the band's past relationships with the masters of Chicago Blues scene serve to accentuate the authenticity of Butterfield and his album.

    The success of the album inspires other labels to seek out artists to capture the revivalist market. Over in England, Decca Records contracts John Mayall and his band The Blues Breakers to record a revivalist album similar to the Butterfield album. However, it's over a year since the release of The Paul Butterfield Band , and to make matters worse for Mayall, his star guitarist, Eric Clapton leaves his band before the promotion of the album can get started. The situation presents a problem of relevance for Mayall, and his label. The fact is that in 1966, outside of England, Mayall has limited credibly in the blues world, and in blues, that can be a detriment. (Many rappers would describe this as lacking of 'street cred') Maintaining his public persona as a first rate bluesman outside of Britain will require some investments. So, having Mayall record with a white blues artist who comes with some serious credentials, will only serve to enhance his profile.

    As a potential remedy to the problem, producer Mike Vernon, gets the idea to record Butterfield and Mayall together for an album. Then, he pitches the idea to Elektra, arguing that it will be good for the careers of both men. I imagine a summary of the proposal went something like:  The two kings of the new blues rock movement together on one disc.....! 


     However, Elektra has other ideas about the future of their band. They don't want Butterfield to continue recording for the dwindling revivalist market.(Nostalgia is a nice place to visit, but who wants to live there.) They want him to move in the direction of the real money, into the mainstream market. Their position is that a recording with Mayall will only slow down his departure from the revivalist market. In addition, Butterfield has already recorded East West, which is made up of rock, blues, jazz, and R & B, definitely not a revivalist album.

   In spite of  Elektra's rejection, Vernon persists, and manages to negotiate terms for an EP of the two bluesmen. Mayall's label, Decca will distribute the EP , but only in the U.K.. It's not ideal for Mayall, but it can still work in his favour.  The advertising will suggest that this young, white American bluesman with serious street cred's has traveled from America to work for bluesman John Mayall. Elektra probably also insists that he will have to use his own band for the recording, but Mayall doesn't care because he doesn't like Bloomfield's playing much anyway, “I had always liked Paul, and admired his harmonica playing, but I wasn’t fond of his band, particularly Mike Bloomfield, whose playing I never much cared for.”  (Liner notes to John Mayall 1964 -‘69).

   In the end, the sessions produce four songs, three covers and a Mayall original: 1) All My Life, 2) Ridin’ the L. & N., 3) Little By Little, 4) Eagle Eye. Butterfield sings, and plays harmonica in a supporting role on three tracks, and takes the lead on Little By Little. I realize this will sound biased, but the one track that Butterfield does sing lead on is the the strongest track of the whole session.

    Overall, Paul’s first tour of Britain is a financial success for all participants, but I think it comes with an artistic price for the newly named Butterfield Blues Band. While in Britain it must be difficult for Bloomfield and Bishop, as guitarists, to ignore the public adulation that Clapton receives for his playing.  Clapton has broken away from Mayall, and he appears to be the better off for it. The whole experience will give the guitarists a great deal to ponder in the future.

NOTE: The video below includes all four songs from the Mayall sessions.

# 19 Ready, Steady, Go

   So, the American folk music revival of the fifties and sixties inspires the interest in rural blues, which then leads young musicians to the sounds of electric urban blues. In mid-sixties Chicago, these young white blues enthusiasts are lucky to be living so close to real blues men like Howlin' Wolf, Little Walter and Muddy Waters. More than any of the other bluesmen, Waters affords the most attention on the young musicians, and so, becomes the unofficial musical father of the young Chicago Crowd.

    Across the Atlantic, the London blues scene has a patriarch too. Alexis Korner and Cyril Davies have been playing urban blues since the fifties, but their audiences are so tiny the two are forced to earn money working in local Jazz bands. In frustration, they open their own club in London in an effort to garner support for their love of the music. Their venture proves to be a success, as the club develops a following of young blues enthusiasts from in and out of London. Regulars at the club, mostly guitarist, will become some of the most influential artists of their generation. Among these kids is Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, Steve Winwoond, John Mayall, Mick Fleetwood and Eric Clapton; they will bring bring the profile of the guitar slinger idol to America.

   As the interest in urban blues takes root in Britain, American artists like Muddy Waters, Sonny Boy Williamson the 2nd and Lightin' Hopkins are invited to tour the UK.  Interest in their music is declining back home, so they gratefully accept the opportunity to work abroad. However, as much as they are impressed with the new interest in their music, they are also confused by the expectations of the audiences. It seems that the British have the romantic view of the blues singer as a black sharecropper with an acoustic guitar. Audiences don't seem to realize that blues is a living breathing art form, and consequently changes with the times.


    After the success of the first The Paul Buttefield Blues Band album in America, other record labels decide to tap into the new market with their own versions of the style Butterfield created. In the U.S., Vanguard contracts an album from Charlie Musselwhite, Stand Back, and in Britain, Decca hires John Mayall to record a similar album.

    In spite of the fact that he is about ten years older than most of the young crop of British blues men, John Mayall is considered part of the group who grow out of the Korner scene. Similar to Butterfield, Mayall is a singer and harmonica player, but more in the tradition of Jimmy Reed and J. D. Lenoir than Waters and Wolf.  He does do some recording in the earlier part of the sixties, but it isn't until he forms his band The Blues Breakers with Eric Clapton on guitar that he earns commercial success.

    So, by July of 1966, Mayall records an album to challenge The Paul Butterfield Blues Band which includes a rival to Bloomfield with the introduction of Eric Clapton. Mayall's album The Blues Breakers is a very similar format to Butterfield's, even down to the cover photo of young men in street clothes with defiant stares. (Clapton is reading a copy of the comic The Beano which I am sure did much for the sales of that publication.)

    However, John Mayall and Blues Breakers, featuring Eric Clapton isn't anything special next to the first Butterfield album, it's really just a collection of mostly covers with Mayall mimicking the original artists. Butterfield has already released that format a over year earlier, and it comes off as being more progressive next to Mayall's attempt. In the end, Mayall’s album is more important because of its introduction of Clapton than its contribution to sixties blues rock.

  Nevertheless, after the success of The Blues Breakers album, Elektra can't deny the competition. A tour of England is planned for the Butterfield band for November, 1966. They will be play several clubs, and share the bill with blues rock acts like: Georgie Fame & Chris Farlowe, Geno Washington and the Ram Jam Band, The Animals with Eric Burdon and Cream. In addition, there will be an appearance on the nationally televised show Ready, Steady, Go, plus a recording session with Mayall.

    So, in early November, Paul and his band fly to England for an intense sixteen date tour of clubs in London, Manchester, Edmonton, Birmingham, Brixton, sometimes playing two and three separate audiences in one day. They start out on November 10th, play central London’s famed Marquee Club, and then drive to Manchester to play at The Jigsaw Club, then on to Brixton for two gigs at The Ram Jam Club concluding Cooks Ferry Inn in Edmonton. In addition to the jet lag and culture shock, it must have been an exhausting journey. Adding to the pace, the band then goes into the studio to record with Mayall.

    After the recording session, they play Birmingham the next day, then travel back to London to appear on the premier pop music television show. Paul is unhappy because he will need to lip-synced their single Droppin' Out to a live studio audience. Once they finish playing Ready Steady Go, the band immediately leaves to play two shows at separate clubs in London, and then a final show the next day before they board the plane for the trip back to New York. The tour is so rapid that everyone barely has a chance to blink. In between gigs they give a succession of interviews to the press where Paul is so tired he offers up an almost inaudible voice when answering the media questions. Fortunately, Bloomfield conducts most of the interviews with all the political savvy of a master blues man.

    There does not seem to be any video available of the Ready, Steady, Go performance, which is odd considering that it has in been in and out of publication many times over the years. The only thing available is a poor audio track of the song they performed Droppin' Out and a photo. The Mayall recording sessions I will cover in the next installment.

# 18 The Matrix

    As I write about the recorded performances Paul Butterfield makes during his career, I'm realize just how much great blues/rock music is being performed in very small, almost invisible clubs during the sixties. It reminds me of the era when the folk singer/songwriters hold court in Greenwich Village. Tiny venues like The Gaslight, Cafe Wha?, and Gerties Folk City showcase artists who will go on to change the direction of popular music.

   By the mid-sixties, there are small music venues in every city, catering to fans of young artists who are blending folk, country and blues with the electric volume and energy found in rock. When Bill Graham starts promoting concerts at The Fillmore in 1965, the size of the venue is an enormous coup for so many unheard artists, but there is still a growth in the smaller clubs.

   As an example, not far from The Fillmore Auditorium is The Matrix at 3130 Fillmore Street. It is a 50 by 80 foot, renovated pizza shop with a 10 foot ceiling at the front of the room which graduates to 20 feet at the back. One wall has a huge mural of The Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, all of them carrying musical instruments, and the back wall has a little window which leads to a galley kitchen for the preparation of snacks. The Matrix is so tiny, it's difficult to imagine how the owners manage to fit some tables with chairs, and also include a dance floor. If you are concluding that the stage must be tiny, you are correct.

   In spite of the size of the venue, a huge list of soon to be famous artists make their public debut at The Matrix. The Jefferson Airplane are one of the first band's to work the nightclub. They even feature the inside of the place on their 1967 release, Surrealistic Pillow. In addition, The Grateful Dead, Howlin' Wolf, The Doors, Hot Tuna, Santana are among the many other bands who play the club, some even record albums there.

   Of course, when touring the West Coast, The Paul Butterfield Blues Band plays The Matrix too. Fortunately for us, in December of 1966, someone records the band performing an excellent set, some songs familiar to fans, and others are more obscure. The band is definitely moving away from playing standard Chicago Blues and experimenting with a hybrid of Rhythm and Blues material. The sound quality is fair to good, but the performances are excellent! I notice that Butterfield is in pretty good spirits during this performance as he engages the audience in  some of his wry humour.


1) This is a standard shuffle featuring keyboard work from Naftalin - Excellent solo!
2) This is a standard slow instrumental blues featuring intense guitar solo from Elvin Bishop.
3) This is another shuffle featuring Bishop. No sign of Butterfield or Bloomfield yet.
4) Butterfield arrives, and introduces I feel So Bad. Butterfield on vocals, No harmonica. Sound is a little       rough.
5) Driftin' Blues. This will become a standard for the band, but this version is a very different format than the others. Butterfield performs with a strong vocals, and uses acoustic harp.
6) This is the track which I include below, 300 Pounds of Heavenly Joy dedicated to Louis Myers. Butterfield on vocals, no harmonica. Probably one of the stronger tracks.
7) Reconsider Baby, No Butterfield on this track. Elvin Bishop on vocals and blistering guitar solo by Bloomfield.
8) I don't know what the title of this track is so I call it Elvin's Blues. Slow blues, Bloomfield on guitar,
9) Get Out of My Life Woman, Butterfield on vocals.
10) One More Heartache, No harmonica solo on this version. I think it's the first Butterfield version I've heard with no harmonica solo.
11) Midnight Hour, unknown vocalist, not Bishop or Butterfield. It might be Arnold?? The band does backing vocals and Bloomfield provides the guitar solo.
12) Walkin' By Myself, Butterfield plays some great fluid harp, and vocals!
13) Born in Chicago, Butterfield cracks the joke as he is introducing the song written by the "great" Nick Gravenites, and then says Born in Sonora. More up tempo than the studio version, and Bloomfield is really playing well tonight!
14) Mojo Workin' , Butterfield wryly introduces the song as Melancholy Baby, but then they swing into a very up tempo and funky version of I Got My Mojo Workin.

                                                                

                                                    

# 17 Droppin in at the Fillmore

     In the mid sixties, the ambitious young businessman Bill Graham begins managing a small theater troupe, and promotes a few music shows in San Francisco. Then he moves on to promoting some free concerts in the Bay area, which are also successful. He has a natural business acumen, and starts a promotion company which will become, Bill Graham Presents. One of the first rock concerts he organizes is with another local promoter by the name of Chet Helms. 

    The two decide to put on a concert featuring The Paul Butterfield Blues Band. The band's performance is so lucrative that Graham's ambition takes over, and he decides to cut Helms out the next concert with the Butterfield Band. So, he stays up all night in a plan to call Butterfield's manager in New York before Helms has a chance to make the a call. Graham asks Grossman for the rights to promote Butterfield for one show, but then negotiates a deal with him that will make Graham the sole promoter for every show Butterfield plays in San Francisco. The whole episode says a lot about Graham, and yes, his actions do piss off Chet Helms. However, it is the start of a long, and prosperous relationship for Graham, Grossman and Paul Butterfield.

   One of the auditoriums that Graham leases for his shows is called The Fillmore. It's an old building in a ghetto neighbourhood of San Francisco called the The Fillmore District. In the coming years, Bill Graham will acquire, The Fillmore then Winterland, and Family Dog Concert Halls. In these buildings he will host most of the rock bands who create some of the most of the influential music of a generation. Bands such as: The Grateful Dead, The Jefferson Airplane, BIg Brother and the Holding Company with Janis Joplin, Starship, The Eagles, Country Joe and the Fish, The New Riders of the Purple Sage, Moby Grape, Santana, Frank Zappa, Steve Miller, The Mamas and the Papas, Crosby Stills, Nash and Young, Taj Mahal and many more. (BTW, The Grateful Dead hold the record for playing The Fillmore, 52 times between 1965 and '69.) Through his foresight, business leadership, generosity, and talented staff, Bill Graham becomes the most important rock concert promoter of a generation.  

   The Fillmore actually becomes as famous as many of the names who play there. It also develops into both a local as well as an international focal point for psychedelic music, and an institution of the counter culture in the United States..

    One of the reasons the venue becomes famous is because of its ambiance. There are strobe lights, swirling light show projections, and my favourite, the iconic light show which appears behind so many bands of that era. (Here is how they created that effect: they take the lens' from two clocks you can find in most public institutions. The lens' are about 8 or 10 inches in diameter. They pour vegetable oil mixed with food colouring on one side, and sandwich the two lens' together. Finally, they place the sandwiched lens' on a standard overhead projector, which magnifies the designs between the lens'.)

    A lot of Bill Graham's initial success as a promoter, and The Fillmore is because of the The Paul Butterfield Blues Band. They become the band to see when in San Francisco. As an example of his gratitude to Butterfield, in 1973, when Butterfield is playing Winterland with his band, Better Days, Graham introduces them with "If it weren't for Paul, I don't know if a lot of us would be tonight"  That is a pretty solid endorsement from the most important promoter of an era.

   Initially, The Paul Butterfield Blues Band are different than all of the San Francisco bands who play The Fillmore. They look different, none have long hair, and they show up on stage dressed in their street close. The other thing that sets them apart from everyone else is their obvious elevated level of musicianship. One of the reasons for this is the wide variety of music they have been exposed to growing up in Chicago. The most important skill gained from all that musical experience is the sensibility that comes from the improvising found in Be-bop, and then the more eclectic Hard- bop. I know from reading interviews with Butterfield that he is very familiar with Be-bop and Hard-bop jazz. As Charlie Parker so succinctly sums up playing the music, "Master your instrument, Master the music, and then forget all the stuff, and just play."

    In these types of Jazz, the musicians play an introduction, referred to as the head. Then, they take turns improvising inside the groove. It's an artist based music, not audience based, as is the case with pop. As slight digression, often, the media still depicts The Beatniks and Be-bop musicians as one unified social group, but in reality, it is The Beats who fall in love Be-bop artists and their music, the love is not always reciprocated. The reasons are probably as simple or complex as that The Beats feel connected to the seemly spontaneous self-expression of Be-bop, and so claim it as their music, but often, the Be-bop artists see the The Beats as lazy. 

   Anyway, the musical format used by both Be-bop and the more eclectic Hard-bop players, sounds like a simple enough format, but it requires mastery of the instrument, and then the ability to creatively put that mastery into a soundscape. While the Butterfield Band are willing to attempt the music, most of the other local bands in San Francisco are not. I don't know if I would place any of the Butterfield Band in the same skill category as the Hard-bop players, but they definitely had the sensibility, and compared with most of the other rock musicians in San Francisco, they are pretty proficient musicians. 

   So, here is the key reason why The Fillmore recording is so important. The band chooses to play Nat Adderley's 1960, Hard-bop cross over hit Work Song as part of their repertoire. They may choose the tune as a way to distance themselves from Blues or to signal a more eclectic approach to playing rock, but they make the effort, and it pays off. Keep in mind that no other rock band is attempting to fuse rock, blues and jazz together at this time. The Butterfield Band is breaking ground when they substitute saxophone and trumpet parts for electric guitars, and amplified harmonica.

    Which brings us to Droppin In with the Paul Butterfield Blues Band. Some of it is a bootleg recording of the band at The Fillmore. When I was given a copy, it was on audio cassette. I was both elated, and disappointed, all at the same time. It is made up of a collection of tracks from the An Offer You Can't Refuse, which is a reproduction of Sutherland Hotel collection. (See my post #2) In addition, there are a few tracks from the 1965 The Newport Folk Festival set. For these reasons I was really disappointed with Droppin' In with the Paul Butterfield Blues Band.

   The remaining tracks are from a set in 1966 at The Fillmore. The sound quality isn't that great, but it is certainly good enough to enjoy on a good system, or with headphones. I imagine some sound engineer at The Fillmore must have taped the show from the soundboard as it definitely sounds better than an audience recordings. 

   The good points about the Fillmore set of tracks is this: once again it is a historical document of the band when they are first making history at The Fillmore. The performances are great! For these reasons alone, I am glad own a copy.

   The band is: Paul Butterfield harmonica and vocals, Mike Bloomfield guitar, Elvin Bishop guitar, Jerome Arnold bass and Bill Davenport drums.

The September,1966 Fillmore tracks are: The Sky is Crying, Oh, Pretty Woman, Help Me, Born in Chicago, Goin' Home, Droppin' Out, Out Love is Drifitin', She's Long She's Tall, My Babe, Kansas City, Work Song and East West.