The Donkey Time Arkansas Blues & Heritage Festival Low Side Quick Jive: Larry McCray and Preston Shannon

Here we descend into the land of bad blues hyperbole.  Born in Magnolia, Arkansas, McCray labels his playing as “blues-rock.”  This description of his music comes from his website, larrymccrayband.com: “Understated funk rhythms and crunchy rock riffs meet searing slow blues and booty-bumping shuffles.”  Crunchy?  Like granola?  Generally, I read shit like that and I look for another record to buy.

Shannon follows suit.  On his website, prestonshannon.com, he bills himself as “The King of Beale Street” and promises “soul-filled vocals atop burning, venom-tipped guitar chords.”  I’m not sure what this means.  You mean venom as in the shit that snakes use to kill you?  I feel certain I don’t have much need for poison guitar chords.  The simple truth is that, with the exception of the International Blues Challenge, if I’m looking to hear music – any kind of music – Beale Street is the one place I’m not going.  So there you have it: you’re the king of some place I don’t go.

And we’ve got to wade through all of this bad writing to get to music that either speaks for itself – or doesn’t.

The reality is that McCray is a stunning guitarist and vocalist.  I know him from his recording of  “All Along the Watchtower” on “All Blues’d Up: Songs of Bob Dylan” (lame title; decent record).  Watchtower is a deceptively difficult song to play, especially after Hendrix turned it into a “third-base situation” for everyone else (including Dylan), but McCray pulls it off.  What really sold me was his take on “Soulshine.”  You can find several versions on YouTube.  It’s not blues-rock; it’s not “crunchy.”  It’s just blues.  And it’s damn good.

I expect Shannon will also deliver the goods.  I wouldn’t know him from apple butter because, like I said, I don’t go to Beale, but what I’ve heard of his voice reminds me of Bobby Womack, and that’s a good thing.  And I’ll cop to this: loathe the Beale scene as I do, the saying is true – you can fool the drunks most of the time, but you can’t fool the locals for very long.

The bottom line is this: it’s easy for me to dismiss bluesman based on the hyperbole.  It’s over the top, it’s cliché, it’s embarrassing, it’s useless.  It’s also easy for me to dismiss them because when it comes to blues I tend to be an elitist, self-important Puritan.  But I also know what I like.  I like searing guitar, and horn sections, and even funky rhythms. For that reason, something inside of me believes that once they take the Helena stage, McCray and Shannon will disassemble my jaded skepticism, bit by bit until I find myself standing on the low side of the road, happy, joyous, and free.      

The Donkey Time Arkansas Blues & Heritage Festival Low Side Quick Jive: Willie Cobbs

Run your eye down the King Biscuit Festival schedule and all the big names will jump out.  B.B. King.  Dr. John.  Charlie Musselwhite.  Taj Mahal.  And deservedly so.  But I suspect that some of the more inspired performances will come earlier in the day from folks you’ve never heard of.  It just so happens that most of these folk are from these here parts – Helena, Arkansas, Greenwood – the delta.  They connect the land to the bandstand.  And you will miss them because you are still sitting behind a desk in Little Rock or rolling the dice in Tunica. 

So what follows is the first of several posts that will help you get right with the low side of the Arkansas Blues & Heritage Festival.

First up: Willie Cobbs.  Cobbs was born in Smale, Arkansas in 1932.  Smale is a hovel at the crossroads of Highway 49 and Highway 79, southeast of Brinkley and northwest of Marvel.  Hovel is probably generous.  Lots of Jesus.  Lots of catfish.

The story goes that sometime in the 1950s Cobbs moved to Chicago.  Here’s what the “Blues Who’s Who” has to say about that:

Moved to Chicago, IL, 1951; frequently worked outside music in Chicago from 1951; frequently worked/learned/teamed w/ Little Walter working Maxell Street area for tips, Chicago, early 50s; frequently worked w/ Muddy Waters Band in local club dates, Chicago, c1952; served in US Marines in Japan/Caribbean areas, 1953-7; returned to Chicago, IL, to open own Toast of Town Club, 1957.

Sometime in the 1960s, Cobb made his way to Memphis.  There he set his legacy in song: “You Don’t Love Me.”  If you think you don’t know this song, you’re wrong.  Dig out your crusty Super Sessions LP for Stephen Stills’ flange driven take; or your copy of the Allman Brother’s Live at the Fillmore East for fifteen minutes of the brothers at their best; or my personal favorite, the relatively straightforward reading by Magic Sam on his 1969 Delmark side Black Magic. 

Truth be told, Cobb’s original recording is pretty damn good, and it’s easy to see why the tune is so often covered.  There’s nothing special about the lyrics.  Write them out on paper, and they are so underwhelming they nearly vanish.  But Cobb’s voice is a cross between Bobby “Blue” Bland and Junior Parker, the Memphis boys backing him are tight and sticky, and that centerpiece groove just cooks the whole way through.

The “Blues Who’s Who” continues: “Frequently worked outside music, 1965-8; settled in Stuttgart, AR, to operate local taverns in Dewitt, AR, area from 1969.”  That tavern was a juke called “The Blue Flame.”  Long gone now, I suspect the joint was rough and regulars toothless.

Cobbs, though, survived.  Now he works steadily inside music, staying on the low side of the road and making the festival rounds.  Helena is not far from Smale, and I can’t help but wonder if this will be a hometown gig for him.  The Donkey aims to find out.  You should too.

Willie Cobbs takes to the Main Stage at 2:30 p.m. on Thursday, October 7, 2010.  Until then, I'll see you on the Low Side of the Road.