Six Feet Under...

This will be the 3rd time that I've published this particular post, a testament to my fondness and admiration for blues pianist, Omar Shariff (f.k.a. Dave Alexander). 'The Dirt On The Ground' was originally published as a living tribute to Alexander way back in September of 2007. With the 2nd publication in 2010, it was intended as a reminder of his greatness. Sadly with this current publication, it is in memoriam to his legacy. Having returned to Texas as a result of lingering health problems, Shariff was dead on January 8th of this year in his hometown of Marshall, the victim of an apparent self inflicted gunshot wound.

The Dirt On The Ground
Dave Alexander
(a.k.a. Omar Shariff)
A Bluesman Laid To Rest
Friday, January 27, 2012

My first encounter with Dave Alexander came when he acted as house pianist for the 1970 Ann Arbor Jazz and Blues Festival, providing rhythmic and melodic support for a variety of artists on the festival's main stage. Impressed by his ability to seamlessly shift styles with each new musician that employed his talents, I made a half-assed attempt to make note of his name, hoping to one day hear him workout with his own band and material. That opportunity came a few years later in San Francisco where my second encounter with Dave occurred at a local dance hall concert. To my surprise, he and his band were the opening act for Van Morrison in what became a extraordinary night of soulful music. Again, I was impressed by his command of the keyboard although this time out, I heard his own original material and was electrified! Regretting that I had forgotten to investigate his recorded works as I had promised myself, I later rooted through the KRE record library to find his two Arhoolie Record releases and immediately made them a regular part of my on-air programming.

Dave came to the Bay Area by way of Texas in 1957, settling in Oakland to play the low rent bars of the thriving East Bay blues scene. There he backed everyone from Big Mama Thornton and Jimmy McCracklin to Lowell Fulson and Jimmy Witherspoon while working on his own material. Later in 1968, he cut his first sides for the World Pacific label called 'Oakland Blues,' a compilation of artists from that notable blues city. As the rock revolution began transforming the club scene, Alexander began appearing as a semi-regular, opening for rock acts at the now well-known ballrooms and dance halls of the period. It's at this point where I entered to find myself rummaging through the station library looking for Dave's music, a boogie blues style that is steeped in tradition yet highly modern, rife with Horace Silver-isms and two fisted barrelhouse.

Sadly as the music scene continued to evolve, Alexander's name slowly slipped from the club listings to eventually disappear altogether. Had he retired? Relocated? Worst yet, passed away? I really didn't know, but the memory of his powerful earthy blues remained with me, and his two LP's, 'The Rattler' and 'The Dirt On The Ground' gained permanent homes in my own personal record collection, one of which I share with you in this post. The story does not end here however and picks up many years later.

In the late 1980's or early 90's, I had my third and last startling encounter with Alexander. And as with the previous times, it happened quite by chance. After having become disenchanted with commercial radio, I turned to performance, forming my own jazz/blues quartet to mildly successful acclaim. While laboring on the cutting edge of obscurity, I found myself booked in 'Old Town' Sacramento where I noticed a much larger crowd convening across the street at the door to another club. Curiosity (and ego) won me over and during a break, I moseyed over to see just what I was missing. Descending the staircase of the rathskeller saloon, I heard a familiar piano sound and who was sitting at the keyboard? None other than the incredible Dave Alexander (now calling himself Omar Shariff), quite alive and definitely swinging! When asked for the answer to his mysterious disappearance, he laid it out to me something like this. It seems that he too had become disillusioned. Dropping out of the music scene, he changed his name, moved North and laid low for a bit, but was now actively performing again in the Sierra music community. Apparently however as the years went on, he didn't find much more in the way of satisfaction in his new environs. He complained bitterly about the city of Sacramento in his song, “Seven Years Of Torture” which was featured on his 2000 album 'Black Widow Spider.' In it he sings, “It’s been seven years of torture in this town of fruit pickers and rednecks. This is a funky little town where people like to deal from the bottom of the deck.” It’s just one example of many where Shariff would express his dissatisfaction in song. And with that, the story comes full circle and in light of his death, it's now easy to sadly speculate that perhaps Shariff may have never found the gratification for which he so yearned and deserved.

Dave Alexander a.k.a Omar Shariff
1938-2012

Featured here are 'The Dirt On The Ground,' Alexander's 2nd Arhoolie LP which is sadly out of print, and whose tracks are listed below. Dave is accompanied by bassist Larry Murdo and drummer Mickey Durio, who both display a deep simpatico for his songs. The material reflects Alexander's broad ranging repertoire and his uncanny ability to fuse many diverse elements into one extremely personal voice. I'm additionally offering Dave's 1st Arhoolie recording, 'The Rattler' as well. Although both recordings are out of print, Arhoolie is offering a limited number of original, sealed vinyl pressings that were recently uncovered in a distant corner of their warehouse. Both titles can be purchased on a first come, first served basis directly from Arhoolie, and are without doubt cleaner than my own rips. Neither recording has ever been released on compact disc. These shares come from my personal record library and date back to the early 1970's. I hope you'll enjoy them both and share my admiration for this now lost blues master.

The Dirt On The Ground

1. The Hoodoo Man (The Voodoo Woman & The Witch Doctor)

2. St. James Infirmary
3. Blue Tumbleweed
4. Sundown
5. Sufferin' With The Lowdown Blues
6. Strange Woman
7. Cold Feelin'
8. Jimmy, Is That You?
9. So You Wanna Be A Man
10. The Dirt On The Ground



The Rattler

1. The Sky Is Crying
2. Swanee River Boogie
3. I Need A Little Spirit
4. Good Home Cookin'
5. The Rattler
6. There Ought To Be A Law
7. Lonesome Train Blues
8. A Tribute To My Father
9. 13 Is My Number
10. The Judgement

The BIG Music

Mike Scott And The Waterboys

Friday, January 20, 2012


An edited version of an article written by Wyndham Wallace in 2011 for The Quietus


"I have heard the BIG music and I'll never be the same
Something so pure, just called my name
I've climbed the big tree and I've touched the big sky
I just stuck my hand up in the air, and everything came into color
Like jazz manna from sweet, sweet chariots"

- From 'The Big Music'

You only had to take one look at Mike Scott in the early 1980s to know that he was born to write. His carefully cultivated appearance --- long dark overcoat with collar turned up to the wind, shoulder length hair only a shampoo away from Bob Geldof's unkempt mop and tucked away beneath a Greek fisherman's cap --- gave him the look of a poet, conveying an earnest, literary image no doubt enhanced by his study of English literature in his native Edinburgh. Like Morrissey, who formed The Smiths around much the same time as The Waterboys were born, Scott was a bookish romantic and also a product of punk culture. While Morrissey was running the New York Dolls fan club, Scott was publishing a fanzine, 'Jungleland.' But unlike Morrissey, Scott wasn't immersed in the kitchen sink culture of 1950s England, and neither did he write of gritty streets and the day-to-day minutiae of dreary disappointment. Instead he buried himself in the work of William Butler Yeats, Robbie Burns, and William Blake, dreaming of "unicorns and cannonballs, palaces and piers/Trumpets, towers and tenements, wide oceans full of tears." Scott sought to give voice to a sense of the epic rather than the prosaic, almost guitar music's polar opposite of The Smiths, and he wasn't alone. U2 had made tentative steps towards grand themes on their early releases just as The Waterboys had on their first two impressive albums. By 1985, however, the year that their third album, 'This Is The Sea' emerged, Scott had perfected a concept that 'The Unforgettable Fire,' a year earlier could only aspire to, a sound that rapidly became known as 'The BIG Music.'

It took its name from a Waterboys song, the first single to be released from their second album, 'A Pagan Place.' Though metaphorical in intent, its lyrics (quoted above) applied perfectly to the scale and grandeur with which Scott was beginning to carve his style. 'The BIG Music" was defined by brass fanfares, booming drums, muscular horns, grand pianos, and multi-tracked 12 string guitars, all densely layered, nearly claustrophobic. Additionally, it's packed with handsomely poetic, almost archaic language and blessed with a rich diversity of instrumentation, Scott's, BIG Music became an epic collection that searched for spiritual meaning and astonishingly, communicated it.

'The BIG Music' is not a Spector-esque 'wall of sound' however. It's too in love with open spaces to allow for any sense of boundaries. Instead it brings walls tumbling down, sending light flooding across an often mythical landscape, conjuring spirits, calling out to a universal force. It's fantastic --- for its exuberance, its sentiments, its poetry, and its ambition. It's also fantastic in the truest sense of the word --- 'extravagantly fanciful.' The sound is honest, organic, and true. It seems to be the authentic product of creative inspiration captured at the moment it struck. Scott's voice is key, characterised by its irrepressible passion, the musicians carried along with him, united behind his cause. Scott credits this solidarity to "hunger," but the sense that the band members were all there in the studio, buzzing on the adrenalin provoked by his cosmic themes and "high on the wine of life," certainly lent the music a profound sincerity.

Scott's music is also packed with spiritual references, and there's a joyful sense throughout that, even when battling demons, the world offers an abundance of mysterious magic that offers more than enough to live for, even if we don't understand its source. But these allusions are inclusive. They don't adhere to any particular religion, calling upon Greek mythology as often as Christianity, and even invoking the legend of Brigadoon. And although 'The BIG Music' is a modern sound born of wonder at what surrounds us, it employs a vocabulary that is at times antiquated --- though never twee --- and calls upon writers that inspired Scott such as Yeats and Blake, Keats and C.S. Lewis, Burns and Joyce. It rejects rock's more commonplace language without fear of alienating those unfamiliar with such a style, and in so doing lends the music a charming gravitas and a timeless quality that match its themes. Part of its appeal however, lies in the fact that it is far from blind to the world's problems, its optimism and love balanced by an acknowledgement of the evil prevalent around us. It is, in other words, a mature vision of the world, viewed through a far from rose-tinted lens. It is grand vision, and it's a gorgeous one. This is 'The BIG Music.'

This first set draws from 'The Waterboys,' released in 1983, 'A Pagan Place' from 1984, and 'This Is The Sea' recorded in 1985. These three form a trilogy of recordings by Mike Scott that exemplified 'The BIG Music' sound.

The BIG Music I

1) The BIG Music
2) A Girl Called Johnny
3) I Will Not Follow
4) Love That Kills
5) The Whole Of The Moon
6) Spirit
7) December
8) Going To Paris
9) Bury My Heart
10) Savage Earth Heart
11) The Earth Only Endures
12) Somebody Might Wave Back
13) Don't Bang The Drum (v2)
14) Billy Sparks
15) This Is The Sea
16) A Pagan Place (Remix)
17) Wonderful Disguise

This second set is a little different. The songs serve to illustrate the transition The Waterboys made from 'The BIG Music' into the 'Raggle Taggle Gypsy' sound they later adopted. Drawing from their entire catalog, these songs take their inspiration from 'The BIG Music,' though are not exclusive to it. While they may not all be BIG in their execution, they're certainly grand in their depth and vision.

The BIG Music II

1) Medicine Bow
2) Questions
3) My Dark Side
4) The Thrill Is Gone
5) Down Through The Dark Streets
6) Kiss The Wind
7) Iona Song
8) Open
9) Rare, Precious, And Gone
10) Trumpets
11) Peace Of Iona
12) Custer's Blues
13) Dark Man Of My Dreams
14) Ain't No Words For The Things I'm Feeling
15) Long Way To The Light
16) Universal Hall
17) What Do You Want Me To Do



Source material for 'The BIG Music I&II' comes from the following:

As 'The Waterboys'
The Waterboys (1983)/A Pagan Place (Expanded) (1984)
This Is The Sea (Expanded) (1985) /Room To Roam (Expanded) (1990)
The Secret Life Of The Waterboys (1994)
Universal Hall (2003)/Kiss The Wind (2008)

As 'Mike Scott'
Bring 'Em All In (1995)/Still Burning (1997)

My thanks to Wyndham Wallace and The Quietus

Raggle Taggle Gypsies: The Waterboys, Pt.2 here.

I Will Forever (Sing The Blues)

Boz Scaggs' Full-Lock Power Slide

Friday, January 06, 2012

Just so you know, when I put this mix together it was intended solely for my own listening pleasure. I never harbored any intention of sharing it here in these pages. But what the hell. If you're a fan of Boz Scaggs, you'll no doubt like it. If you're not a fan, or perhaps you're just ambiguous about his music, maybe this'll change your mind. It's not actually my goal to persuade you in any way. The two volumes of 'I Will Forever (Sing The Blues) are essentially a collection of every song recorded by Scaggs that I've ever had reason to enjoy. Got that? Every song. Definitely no more and obviously no less. Having had no reason to edit myself, it was an exercise born purely of self indulgence and self satisfaction. But now that's it's being published, and with each set clocking in at roughly one hour and thirty-five minutes in length, I've come to realize that it actually makes for quite a few songs --- no doubt more than anyone might ever care to embrace, longtime follower or otherwise. So I'm running a risk here.

You see it's unfortunate, but today Scaggs might be considered irrelevant by those who've simply outgrown him, or have consciously chosen to forget him. After all, he didn't exactly leave on a musical high note if you were to ask my opinion. That is unless you consider multi-million record sales as the primary measure of quality. Sure, he had the extremely impressive 5x-platinum success of 'Silk Degrees' behind him which literally blew the doors wide open for securing his place in the pantheon of popular music. And although its successors were only slightly less triumphant, they still managed to sell a mere 2,000,000+ copies each, all of which made Scaggs a very wealthy man in the process. But in doing so, he had also subverted his earthy brand of rock, soul, blues, r&b, country and jazz into far smoother (though some might say somewhat blander) sounds that were polished by a production so seamless and glossy, you nearly chanced breaking your neck as you tried shimmying to his new disco dance floor grooves. Plus he dressed like this ---

Boz circa 1980

--- a kind of unfortunate 'Miami Vice' type thing not unlike the stars of the former TV series, Don Johnson and... that other guy whoever he was. And look where their careers are today. His appearance also couldn't have done much to assuage his increasingly skeptical fan base from a decade earlier who recalled him simply as a soulful white dude with a funky band who just played from the heart and didn't rely on flash, theatrics, or Eurotrash clothes to make a musical statement. I can't help but wonder whether the man might cringe regretfully whenever this photo pops up to haunt him. It's only marginally worse than another ill-conceived idea for an album cover, 1974's 'Slow Dancer,' and idea so bad they eventually replaced it ---
 

Boz circa 1974

Scheech! What were they thinking? Yeah, I know, we've all had our misguided fashion choices, myself included. Yours truly was a pair of saddle shoes that I found in a second hand shop. Yes, you read that correctly --- saddle shoes -- the antithesis of hip, exactly why I bought them. And yes, you read that right as well --- I actually paid for them. I had never seen, or maybe just never bothered to notice anything like them before, and in some sort of George Costanza moment, I suddenly thought that the two-toned look somehow summed up the fractured inner self I constantly wrestled with. I'll admit it, I wore them for awhile, blissfully oblivious to the fact that they made me look like a major douche. What was I thinking? Clearly I wasn't.

Anyway, back to Boz Scaggs and fashion missteps aside, the result of his briefly dropping out of the music business some 30 years ago to become a restaurateur, nightclub owner, and vintner meant that Scaggs subsequently wallowed in semi-obscurity during most of the 80's and 90's. That proved to be an unfortunate setback because his self-imposed retirement gave his former audience plenty of time to move along, reducing the glory of his earlier accomplishments to a distant memory. And despite his sometimes credible attempts to reenter the charts, or at the very least the consciousness of the public, all have been mostly met with shrugs and indifference. Think about it, unless you happen to be Tom Waits or Tony Bennett, it's gotta' be hard for older musicians in the field of pop to find a comfortable balance between what works for them versus what works for a new and younger audience with whom they have no history. For the most part, those who patronized their shows and bought their records years ago have all grown up to become responsible (or irresponsible) business men and women with adult children, two car garages, and 2nd mortgages with no time or desire for checking out anyone's latest release anymore. But the thing is, I still happen to like Boz Scaggs. I haven't followed his every career move, but I've also never lost sight of the fact that beneath the tightrope walk he performs today, there are still traces of that soulful white dude with the funky band that I remember from days of yore. Plus he's always been a pretty stand-up kind of guy. I used to work for him when I'd occasionally moonlight manning the DJ booth at his San Francisco nightclub, Slim's. I'd spin records between sets, introduce the acts, soft sell the kitchen menu, and remind everyone to generously tip their waitress. Piece of cake, really. The guy gave me a paycheck for doing something very easy, enjoyable, and quite honestly, kinda' cool. Not to mention providing an open bar and free shows (The World Saxophone Quartet, Johnny Adams, Sonny Rollins, Bobby 'Blue' Bland, and others)! So what's not to like, 'fer Christ's sake?
 

The Back Story
 

Although it may not be evident by the content of these pages, I've always had a thing for soul music and r&b. When I was in my early teens, I was entranced by the sounds of Motown and Stax/Volt that generously populated the playlist's of the Top 40 radio stations I listened to. Little Stevie's 'Fingertips' was the bomb, The Four Tops were a groove, Brenda Holloway a crush, and Marvin and Tammi always hit the sweet spot. The Temptations of course had the coolest dance steps, David Ruffin, and Eddie Kendricks. Then there was Otis and Carla, Sam and Dave, wicked Wilson Pickett, and others. But James Brown --- James Brown simply knocked me out of my brain. I almost slept with my copy of 'Live at the Apollo,' memorizing the placement of every anguished cry of the master, the chinka-chinka-chink of every guitar note, and the crack of every snare drum. 

Cue reverie:

"So now ladies and gentlemen, it is star time! Are you ready for star time!? (Screams from the audience/"Yeah!") Thank you, and thank you very kindly. It is indeed a great pleasure to present to you at this particular time... national and international known as the hardest working man in show business, here to sing 'I Go Crazy!' (Fanfare mixed with screams from audience) 'Try Me!' (Fanfare mixed with screams from audience) 'You've Got The Power!' (Fanfare mixed with screams from audience) 'Think!' (Fanfare mixed with screams from audience) 'If You Want Me.' (Fanfare/screams from audience) 'I Don't Mind.' (Fanfare/screams from audience) 'Bewildered!!' (Fanfare/many screams from audience) Million dollar seller, 'Lost Someone!!' (Fanfare/many more screams) The very latest release, 'Night Train!!!' (Fanfare/wild screams from audience) Let's everybody shout and shimmy!! (Fanfare and more wild screams) Mr. Dynamite... the amazing Mr. 'Please, Please' himself... the star of the show... James Brown and the Famous Flames!!!" (Pandemonium ensues as the band kicks in) Da-da-da-daa! Duh-duh-da-do-da-do-dooby-do! Da-da-duh!! (Etcetera, etcetera)

 I can still quote it today verbatim despite having long worn out my copy of the record. Testament to the impact that it had on me.

Back To The Story

Boz circa 1969/1970

The first band I was in, or more specifically the first band to actually get out of the garage and play a few gigs did popular soul covers and made vague attempts at r&b. Young and impressionable, I so wanted to be like Mr. Dynamite (and later, the Reverend Al Green). The only problem was I was 15 years old going on 16, and I was a dopey looking white kid with dance moves that were once described as looking like "being attacked by bees." If only punk rock had been around, I would've been a natural shoe-in. But as far as challenging the kings and queens of soul, I was completely and utterly out of my league. Crestfallen, I realized I had to realign my sights to a more reasonable, and obtainable expectation --- blue eyed soul. Unfortunately outside of Felix Cavaliere, I had very few role models to base my aspirations. That said however, The Rascals were not really such a bad place to start (except for their early uniforms). But a few years later when I began frequenting the rock music ballrooms, I gained exposure to other soul practitioners who proved quite inspiring. While my friends were attending shows to bask in the guitar histrionics of Johnny Winter, Alvin Lee, Duane Allman, and Leslie West, I gravitated towards the more refined Ray Charles inspired soul of Joe Cocker and Van Morrison, most particularly impressed when the latter would throw back his head (à la J.B.) and lose himself in the music, chocking on emotion and stuttering manically as he tried to formulate the words to express it.

Later when I moved west, it then became Bay Area favorite Boz Scaggs who garnered my attention with his solid songwriting and a top-notch band of players who laid down plenty of infectious grooves. His was everything I could actually imagine myself one day doing, if only I accepted that it was merely a pipe dream. But in my ideal world... in my fantasy world, I too would someday be up there in the spotlight backed by a funky drummer who's turning up the heat for the Hammond B3 to cook, a three piece horn section punching the changes, and The Sweet Inspirations swaying their hips and supplying the do-do-do-wop. Stage left, the guitar player would be hunkered over his axe keeping the groove, and off to the right, lost in the shadows stands one mean looking, bad-ass MOFO on electric bass. A skinny yet menacing looking Brother with a cigarette dangling from his protruding lower lip and his conk held tightly in place with a black hairnet, laying down a fat (or 'phat,' as they spell it today) bottom, holding the whole damn thing together. This of course was before I could ever imagine life in the glamorous world of chronic underemployment and misspent energies. Oh sure, there were the radio years and some other adventures that fueled my transitory contentment, but nothing like the fantasy of the showman that I one day envisioned myself becoming if only I had the drive, true ambition, and talent to actually make my dream come true. But that's my demon to confront, and right now we're supposed to be talking about Boz Scaggs.

Boz circa 2010


Forward To The Present

So here we are in 2012. I can't profess to follow Boz's every move in his on-going career. But I do admire that he's at least remained active, if not always satisfying. A brilliant man once said, "It's gotta' be hard for older musicians in the field of pop to find a comfortable balance between what works for them versus what works for a new and younger audience with whom they have no history." Oh, hold it. That was me! Maybe he isn't so brilliant. But I do have to admit that there's a certain amount of salience in that observation. To loosely quote myself again, Scaggs 'walks a tightrope' in today's music market. His work may not be what it once was, nor may it be for everyone, but that's no reason to discount his past achievements. Today he make records (check that --- recordings) that reflect his age and position in life. He's gone from the rough and tumble of his youth, to the smoother, more sophisticated sound of a mature man established in his profession. I can't say I blame him. It's becoming of musician with 40+ years spent treading the boards. Now if he had been Tom Waits who always was a misfit... no, wait a minute. There I go again quoting myself. Redundant. Unnecessary. Where's my editor?

The point is, I still like listening to Scaggs' music. Not all of it, but based on the amount that's included in these sets, at least three and a half hours worth. And you know what? His having musically mellowed out notwithstanding, he still to this day tries his best to inject a bit of that old 'blue-eyed soul' into his material, God bless him. I don't care what others may think, Boz is still alright in my book.

I Will Forever (Sing The Blues), Vol.1

1) I'm Easy
2) I Will Forever (Sing The Blues)
3) We're Gonna Roll
4) Jump Street
5) (I Long To Be) Near You
6) Runnin' Blue
7) Might Have To Cry
8) Lowdown
9) Alone, Alone
10) Downright Women
11) A Clue
12) Full-Lock Power Slide
13) Can I Make It Last (Or Will It Just Be Over)
14) I'll Be Long Gone
15) Still Falling For You
16) Why, Why (Must A Good Love Go Bad)
17) Some Change
18) Monkey Time
19) Dinah Flo
20) He's A Fool For You
21) We Were Always Sweethearts
22) As The Years Goes Passing By
23) What Can I Say


I Will Forever (Sing The Blues), Vol.2

1) Ask Me 'Bout Nothin' (But The Blues)
2) Hollywood Blues
3) There Is Someone Else
4) Your Good Thing (Is About To End)
5) Love Me Tomorrow
6) Loan Me A Dime
7) Here To Stay
8) Georgia
9) You Make It So Hard (To Say No)
10) It All Went Down The Drain
11) My Time
12) Breakdown Dead Ahead13) We're All Alone (Acoustic Version)
14) Hard Times
15) Old Time Lovin'
16) You're So Good
17) After Hours
18) We're Waiting
19) Lido Shuffle
20) Freedom For The Stallion
21) Lost It
22) Harbor Lights


Source material for 'I Will Forever (Sing The Blues), Vols.1&2' comes from the following:

Boz Scaggs (1969)/Moments (1971)
Boz Scaggs & Band (1971)/My Time (1972)
Slow Dancer (1974)/Silk Degrees (1976)
Down Two The Left (1977)/Middle Man (1980)
Some Change (1994)/Come On Home (1997)
My Time: The Anthology (1997)/Fade Into Light (1999)