Stocking Stuffers

Change of pace, or sound, for the Mountain today.

This one is posted at the suggestion/request of Mrs. Mountain.

While I'm more of a Billie Holiday fella myself, the Missus is a real big fan of the mighty Ella Fitzgerald. And there's no denying the mighty pipes of the regal Queen of Jazz.

Here's Ms. Fitzgerald getting a little suggestive for the Holidays. Or am I reading too much into it? You tell me.

Ella Fitzgerald: Santa Claus Got Stuck (In My Chimney) (mp3)

I'm only keeping songs up for 5 posts/days, so grab 'em while you can. By the time you read this, Andre Williams will be gone.

Support your local stocking fillers.

Santa Is A Trucker

Hey.

Didja know that Santa's a trucker? No? Oh, sure he is. How the hell else do you think he hauls all that shit all over the world? The sleigh thing is just a front, a way to throw off potential highway robbers. You won't find his name on the IBT rosters, though. They keep this stuff real secret, like. So you get this breaking news here first. Big Rock Candy Mountain is your source for exposing all the latest news and secret conspiracy theories.

We like trucking music a whole bunch of bunches here at the Mountain. But you knew that already.

And we think Red Simpson is the cat's meow. One of the holy trinity of trucking songs, with Dave Dudley and Del Reeves, Simpson has been in on the Santa Claus conspiracy for quite some time. All the way back in 1973, with his album Truckers' Christmas, ole Red was exposing the truth and sticking up for the trucker's of the world, Santa's true Elves.

Truck on, Santa, truck on.

Red Simpson: Santa's Comin' in a Big Ol' Truck (mp3)

Red Simpson: Out On The Road For Christmas (mp3)

Please support your local, independent truck stops this holiday season.

Bongo Fury Santa

Like, wow, man, we're getting hit here with the first proper snowstorm of the year. And the aluminum Christmas tree got up just in time. Yep, I said aluminum. It's real purty, just needs some proper ornaments to fit the style.

Tonight I'm out for festive beverages with friends for an early holiday celebration, and I wondered if anything could be a better soundtrack for the evening with the beatniks than, well, "Beatnik's Wish" by Patsy Raye, the classic hepster's Christmas song, Babs Gonzalez notwithstanding (we'll get to Babs later this month).

Then I realized I had already posted that a couple of years ago, so I figgered I'd add a swell little number by Ed "Kookie" Byrnes entitled "Yulesville", a flurry of drums and be bop jazz-lite, with Byrnes giving his finger snapping version of The Night Before Christmas.

These fine songs aren't exactly the height of seriousness, but, really, how serious can you be about a fat man in a red suit? What they will do is help your hot butter rum toddy go down even smoother at your next swinging Holiday party.

Dig.

Edd "Kookie" Byrnes: Yulesville (mp3)

Patsy Raye: Beatnik's Wish (mp3)

Blah, blah, blah, independent record stores, blah blah blah.

Buck Yr Yuletide Pride

Guess it's about time to stop futzing around and get to what y'all came here for.

A little Country cheer for the Holidays.

Buck Owens died this year. But don't be sad, ole Buck left behind a big city's worth of classic tunes. Bakersfield may not look a lot like the North Pole, but Owens knows a thing or two about Santa's sinister alter ego.

Charley Pride has just about the most perfect voice in music, a soulful twang to make you dance or break your heart. Known for challenging the perceived racial divide in Country, Pride very quietly established himself as a giant in the industry. He's long been a Mountain favorite. Kiss an angle good morning, indeed.

Get your Yule on.

Buck Owens: Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy (mp3)

Charley Pride: Christmas In My Hometown (mp3)

Help Santa out. Shop locally and independently.

Santa Twist

Howdy.

Tom Waits is on the Daily Show in an hour, as I write this.

So, what do you want from me?

Let's see. Blues, Country, Garage, or....Rockabilly!

Don't know if all y'all have checked out the great Buffalo Bop label and it's series of obscure and boppin' collections, but any fan of rockabilly or quality hillstomp Country oughta check 'em out.

One of my favorites, at least for posting purposes today, is Rockabilly Xmas. It's swell stuff, twanged and tweaked, rough and manic like reindeers in heat.

Of particular note is the appearance of Cordell Jackson, the queen of rockabilly guitar.

So whip out your Western shirts and your lariat, and wrassle yerself up some hot slices of Rockabilly Holiday to keep you warm on these approaching wintry, festive nights. A little nog probably wouldn't hurt, either.

Cordell Jackson: Rock'n'Roll Christmas (mp3)

Mark Anthony : Mama's Twistin' With Santa (mp3)

Marguerite Trina: The Rocking Tree (mp3)

There's 27 more classic rockabilly Holiday tunes on Rockabilly Xmas, so ask your local, independent record store if they'll order you up a copy. You won't be sorry.

Poor Mr. Santa

Hello.

Welcome to Big Rock Candy Mountain's annual holiday blowout. Daily(mostly) posts from now 'til December 25! Rockin' Holiday tunes! Pithy and clever commentary!

Well, maybe not so much on that last item.

Regardless.

I'm trying hard not to repeat any songs from the last two years of this fun experiment, but if the mood strikes me, I might. Sorry.

We'll kick this sucker off with the same gentleman we kicked last year off with, and why the hell not? Different song from last year, though.

Andre "Mr. Rhythm" Williams is your daddy. And if you don't know it yet, you will shortly. If you love that greasy, old timey Rythm and Blues, then you owe Mr. Williams a thank you card.

Andre's a dirty old man. Proudly so.

Andre Williams cd's and records make great stocking stuffers. Either kind of stocking.

Andre Williams: Poor Mr. Santa (mp3)

The B-side to this single is absolutely filthy, by the way. So go hunt it down. You deserve it. See you tomorrow.

Hobo Heaven

Happy Tom Waits day! I'm a couple of hours away from headin' out to my local record store to pick up my official copy of Orphans. Waits fans, we're a little special aren't we? I'll have an official review/post about the set later....oh, say, somewhere between Christmas and New Year's, when you just know it's gonna show up in my top ten list of the Mountain's fave albums of the year. How's that for a preview?

And don't forget to mark your calendars for the day after Thanksgiving when we begin our daily (dear god) Holiday posts.

For now, though.

Lecil Travis Martin was a liar, a scam artist, and a media whore. And we love him dearly. Went by the name of Boxcar Willie, and if you paid any attention to the television in the late 70's and 80's youd've seen his commercials sandwiched between Freedom Rock and K-Tel disco compilations. Yep, that's the guy who loved America, trains, and regular folk values. Surely he had a huge serving of apple pie every night, tired from riding the rails all day, singing hobo songs to the weary and disposed travellers of ice boxes and empty coal chutes. Salt of the earth, with a train whistle's yodel.

Or maybe not.

In actuality, Willie was a military man, serving in the Air Force until the 70's, music being a second job, of sorts. Upon retiring from the Force, Willie pressed full-bore into his music career, perfecting his hobo persona for mass consumption. It worked, and Willie became a star. All those TV adverts didn't hurt his career much either, though they exemplified the fake authenticism that earned him much derision amongst the purists, a derision that exists to this day, as you'll note in the rhetoric of CMT's biography of him.

What's problematic about the anti-Boxcar Willie sentiment is that it builds itself on the realness of his persona. True, he was no hobo in his adult life. But he grew up around railroads, and there is some evidence that he was prone, in his youth, to attempts at hopping freight cars. His success at this is negligible, but it certainly points to a love of train and hobo culture that he carried into his future caricature. The fact that most performers adopt some type of persona separate from their real selves is accepted in general, but it seems that we pick and choose who we'll allow this leeway based on a random set of rules that boggle in their application. Really, how much time did Johnny Cash actually spend in jail? And I do not mean to compare Boxcar Willie with Johnny Cash in terms of talent or importance.

Really, Boxcar Willie isn't that important. He set the standard for nothing, unless you count the first Country artist to perfect the art of television hawking in the modern age. 'Course, back in the day big name Country artists hawked products and their own names regularly on radio shows, and barn dance transmissions.

But here's a catch. To many not in the stable of hoity toity music critics and experts, Boxcar Willie represented a return to real Country in the decades of Nashville's demise into overproduced swill and Urban Cowboy excess and blandness. What they heard when they heard Willie sing was the sound of yesterday, a nostalgic twanged twinge in the traditional heart. How genuine it was didn't really matter. It certainly sounded more genuine than, say, Alabama. And who knows how many people who weren't really Country fans took Willie's advice and checked out Hank Williams, or Jimmie Rodgers, or Dave Dudley, or Lefty Frizzell. Boxcar Willie may fail the Greil Marcus test of importance, context, and obscurity masquerading as relevant, but he certainly made a convert of this feller as an impressionable lad listening to WWVA and dreaming of going to Jamboree in the Hills. It was also Boxcar Willie who fell me into love with the train song. To quote Mr. Westerberg out of context, "I'm in love,with that sound."

So. Boxcar Willie isn't important. He's not revolutionary. He's not genuine according according to those who are experts.

But he's one hell of a lot of fun. He's better than you think he is. He's got a Country voice that makes you want to sing along, makes you want to hop the rail. And at the end of the day, after all the term papers and doctoral theses have been written, aren't those the most important things?

Boxcar Willie: Big Freight Train Carry Me Home (mp3)

Boxcar Willie: Hobo Heaven (mp3)

Boxcar Willie: Boxcar Blues (mp3)


Please consider supporting your local, independent retailers this Holiday season.

Oompah

Hey.

We're less than a week away from the release of the Tom Waits box set, Orphans. Now, I'm not saying I've heard it yet, and I'm not saying I haven't, but a little bird has told me that it's pretty damn swell. 'Course lots of the songs have been available in some form or another elsewhere on non-Tom albums (though some of them appear as re-recordings), it's pretty keen to have them all assembled in one fine and dandy package. So empty out your penny jars, head to the bank, sell your blood, trade in those Peter Frampton albums, whatever it takes. Show Tom a little love. 'Cuz Tom loves you.

Speaking of Tom, I gotta believe he's heard himself a little Blind James Campbell at some point.

After years of playing in roadhouses, jukejoints, and, yes, street corners all around his native home of Nashville, with various combos (the Nashville Washboard Band, The Friendly Five), Campbell hit what must have been (early recordings are either sketchy or non-existent, I've never heard any) his creative stride teaming with Beauford Clay, George Bell, Bell Ray and Ralph Robinson (on Tuba!!!!) to form Blind James Campbell and His Nashville String Band.

Recorded by Arhoolie bossman, Chris Strachwitz, over a period of a couple of years in the early 60's, the appropriately titled album Blind James Campbell and His Nashville String Band.

Now, why the hell should you care about some Blues guy among thousands recorded, revived, rediscovered, or what have you, during the heydey of the decade of folk revivals?

I'll tell you.

It's a glorious mess.

Really.

Honking, belching tuba, loose-stringed and more loosely tuned fiddles, banjos dueling guitar lines smashed long before The Clash were even born, and the voice of god when he's drunk rambling and veering all over the melody, falling and rising above the wailing din. And I think there's a tub being thumped somewhere along the way. Oh, my, this is good stuff. And chaotic. It's string band music taken to the end of the rainbow, and finding not a crock of gold, but hallelujah, and that's more than good enough. Folk, ragtime, country reels, blues...it's all present and mashed together into a joyous mess of hill-stomp, hill-billy, street corner dance music. The Mountain was created for albums like this.

I actually considered changing the theme song of this here eternally late spot on the world wide internets from, well, "Big Rock Candy Mountain" to "I Am So Blue When It Rains". I dare you not to start dancing 'round your room with the nearest available dust mop or broom when you listen to it.


Blind James Campbell: I Am So Blue When It Rains (mp3)

Blind James Campbell: Buffalo Gal (mp3)

Blind James Campbell: Sittin' Here Drinkin' (mp3)

Blind James Campbell: Gambling Man (mp3)

The Holiday season is almost upon us, and that means we're coming up on the legendary daily holiday posts from the Mountain (If anyone wants to start a betting pool on how long that lasts, I'll give away a mix cd to the winner). It also means that it's time to spread the seasonal cheer and help keep your local, independent businesses afloat.

Cledus

Hi.

Just watched The Conversation, starring Gene Hackman, for the first time in about 15 years. Damn. Besides featuring what may be Hackman's finest moment on film (even over Popeye Doyle), it's a classic tale of paranoia and covert activity that is strangely prescient of certain activities that may or may not be taking place this very day. If you've ever gotten the feeling that you're being watched or listened to, that what you say might be used against you at an unspecified time or place, or you fear that Big Brother's creeping ever closer, this is the film for you. Hell, if you just like great acting, you might wanna oughta check it out.

But, anyway, this aint a film blog, and I aint nohow no kinda expert.

So.

I've been dancing around a proper Jerry Reed (and what the hell's up with that photo...man looks like a knob)post for some time now, including him in two separate past trucking posts.

Born and raised in Atlanta, Reed was already a shit-hot guitarist (dubbed "The Guitar Man" during his subsequent time in Nashville) by the time he recorded his first songs at the age of 18. He recorded some forgotten, or forgettable, country and rockabilly sides in the 50's, with his best success coming off a Gene Vincent treatment of his song "Crazy Legs". During the 60's he released some pretty solid singles and spent his downtime doing session work as a guitarist.

Finally the 70's dropped and Reed hit his commercial and artistic stride with such classics and "Amos Moses" and "When You're Hot You're Hot", amongst others. Reed mixed modern Country and Cajun swamp trash, brewing a moonshine still's worth of tonky love.

Reed was never really included in conversations involving the Outlaw movement circling around Willie, Waylon, et. al, and his flirtation with Hollywood, with the exception of the immortal Smokey and the Bandit, suggested that maybe he wasn't too concerned with working outside the carefully drawn lines of the established entertainment industry. Who knows? But somehow his songs sounded different, more raw and alive than the usual Nashville fare. It's music for southern country roads, topping the century mark in a hopped up muscle car round dangerous curves. Or maybe it's music for beater pickup trucks, with the gun rack barely holding on. Better yet, a pontoon boat hauling illegal whatnot through a Louisiana swamp.

'Course "East Bound and Down" is a stone cold classic so far as we're concerned here at the Mountain. But you've heard that a million times by now (thanks in part recently to our good pal, amigo, Earl Hickey). So here's some other swampy garbage goodness tunes from the mind of Mr. Jerry Reed.

Jerry Reed: Alabama Wild Man (mp3)

Jerry Reed: Amos Moses (mp3)

Jerry Reed: Guitar Man (mp3)

Jerry Reed: Ko-Ko Joe (mp3)

Please consider supporting your local, independent retailers.

Frankly

I got ya covered for your fix this week of crazed, one man band plinkers, pluckers, and bangin' hollerers.

In actuality, Harmonica Frank Floyd may not be quite so bangin' and crazed musically as some of his musical contemporaries like Hazil Adkins. And, well, he's not really technically a one man band, more of a guitar and, er, harmonica man. With peculiar vocal tics. Oh, those peculiar vocal tics.

Floyd got an early start in music, following, naturally enough, carnivals and, most importantly, medicine shows. These shows, typically used to sell questionable medical products, think Hadacol, were generally an anarchic series of performances and lectures, barkers and sideshow freaks. Floyd fit in well with this crowd, developing his slightly loopy style, approaching each subsequent show or rare recording session as an act, the soul shouting emcee, selling you a twisted boozy product of dubious believability, of swamp mosquitoes and peepholes.

Course the believability factor played a large part in his being signed to Chess Records in the 50's. Legend has it that Chess thought that Floyd was Black, and was greatly embarrassed, after releasing several singles by Floyd, to discover that he was more or less a white feller, with traces of Cherokee in his bloodline. A good ole boy, as it were. It's easy, I suppose, in hindsight, to wonder how this "mistake" was made. While Floyd certainly pulls from the Blues as an influence, his style certainly suggests more pull from the Country and Folk side. At best Floyd was an unsubtle stylist. At his worst, and it seems this would have been anathema to Chess, Floyd could sound like a poor man's black-face minstrel, something he surely had great exposure to whilst logging his medicine show miles. Hardly then, one would imagine, an ideal calling card for inclusion on the Chess roster. Who knows? If anyone has any further information on the whole Chess/Frank Floyd story, I'd be fascinated to read more.

Floyd was known to play his harmonica like a cigar, inserting virtually the whole damn thing into one side of his mouth and wailing away. Make of that what you will.

Why should you listen to Frank Floyd, then? Is the phrase folk trash already taken and safely compartmentalized into a nice Best Buy section of the music racks? It's, well, greasy and raggedy stuff, obscene at times, and certainly worth your time if you're a fan of the junk we spew here at the Mountain.

Edit: Got slightly scooped on Floyd, I just found out. Mr. Dan Fontana's got a video of ole Frank right here.

Harmonica Frank Floyd: Mosquito Bar Britches (mp3)

Harmonica Frank Floyd: Howlin' Tomcat (mp3)

Harmonica Frank Floyd: Knothole Blues (m3)

Please consider supporting your local, independent record store. If you've got the dough.