sitting with Gianluca

I’ve never miked a musician’s feet before let alone asked any of my interview subjects about his two appendages but when the artist in question is Chris Smither, then it’s as much a part of his music as his deft finger-picking guitar playing and masterful / lyrical  songwriting. “Well there’s two of them!” he laughs. Careful examination by your correspondent confirms this. Two feet in fine black leather Italian shoes laying on a sandwich board - expertly miked by your correspondent - in wait of a song. “I wear them till they’re falling apart and I take them back and back to the cobbler. I have a cobbler in massachussettes who knows exactly what in want.” What Smither wants, for any future shoe tech, would be very well worn souls so their thud doesn’t interfere with the guitar in any way. It has to be soft in tone - like a muffled ‘thud’. Loud enough to weave in an out of his guitar lines but not loud enough to interfere with them.

Listen to the whole conversation at www.SittingWith.com

Listen To the whole conversation and a couple of songs here.

You can listen to this conversation and a couple of songs here.

It sounded bizarre on paper, William E Whitmore playing in a Winery. Yes, that William E Whitmore, full sleeve tattoo-wearing, weather-beaten former rodie for hardcore Iowa bands like Ten Grand, playing in a wood panelled winery and fancy food in SOHO, New York City among the $300 chablis and $700 Chateau Rothchild. Ten minutes before his set he came crashing through the door with a banjo and a guitar. He had woken in his recently converted (“This summer I just put in electricity”) corn crib that stands on the Whitmore family hundred and fifty acre farm in Lee County Iowa. Well the man travels light. He is taken past the rows of tables, waiting to be filled that evening with Amy Mann fans and through where He has been booked to play: on the loading doc in the winery’s parking lot, during an afternoon weekly mini-festival at which wine (and some premium beer) and snacks are served - Now that’s more like it!
The humor is not lost on William. With the exception of a performance at Bonaroo he has spent the last two months on the farm “not really seeing that many people”. It was an exuberant set with as many guffaws of laughter coming from the stage as off the stage. during which he came out into the audience and shook hands. He has good reason to be in such a good mood these days. The tragic circumstances that informed his first three albums is much behind him. He has signed to major label Anti Records. The new record is still carries the sparse, weather-beaten, son of the soil material delivered with shovels of Iowa dirt.

You can listen to The Proclaimers talk about and play music here.

Well what more can I say? Their songs do all the talking. They are true gents and were a pleasure to have on.

On of the last links to a world that no longer exists. He tells tales of his thirty years as a hobo, riding the rails and hustling with loaded dice. Here he is at home standing in front of a framed poster of Charley Patton who died in 1934 when Honeyboy was seventeen. Listen to the Honeyboy reminisce about his hobo days here. There’s a feature article I wrote for a Mississippi newspaper here. honeyboy-ddt-6409

Before you even talk to James Yancey - otherwise known as Tail Dragger - he stands apart from everyone else you’ve ever seen before. His tall, pipe-cleaner thin frame stands in cowboy boots and is crowned by a Stetson hat that covers a completely bald head. Not that he wears the hat as camouflage - His CD “My Head is Bald put paid to any sort of cover-up. His long smooth face is framed by a white beard upon which falls the shadow of a cigar that is usually clamped between his teeth.

Yancey lives on a second story walkup on Chicago’s West side where his friends have stopped by for brandy and cigarettes. The West Side is bang in the heart of what used to be Chicago’s blues scene. It was the domain of legendary names like Otis Rush, Jimmy Dawkins, Magic Sam, and ruled by Howling Wolf. Muddy Waters ruled the South side. “It used to be there was a club on every corner,” drawls Tail in a thick , rich baritone….

With Johnny B. Moore to the right

We can debate backwards and forwards whether-or-not the Eagles are the ant-Christ of Rock and Roll but one thing for sure is that the writer of many of their songs, John David Souther, often labelled the ‘architect of the Southern California sound’ is a very talented songwriter. Being a multi-instrumentalist with a jazz background also gives him the ability for textured compositions. Fortunately JD is also articulate and really knows how to explain creativity. Though he has a reputation for not suffering fools, he also has a good sense of humor. Listen to the whole show here.

Well I must be doing something right! I have a soft spot for the city that gave usjazz and rock & roll so this means a lot to me. Put cursor over image and click to read article.

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