I saw blues singer Koko Taylor perform several times during my life, but the occasion I recall most vividly occurred
in a place far removed from the South Side atmosphere that her rough, rugged voice brought to mind.
It was at Illinois State University, the Normal-based college that was within walking distance of my own alma mater – Illinois Wesleyan. Back in what was most likely 1984, Taylor and her Blues Machine band was earning a living performing the blues, and they gave a concert on the college campus.
WHAT MAKES THAT event stick so strongly in my mind is the fact that I literally got a front row center seat. I was probably about 10 feet away from her in what was a packed (several hundred, maybe up to 1,000 people) hall of people whose idea of a study break was to spend a Saturday night listening to Koko giving us her take on “Wang Dang Doodle” and other blues songs.
Now I don’t listen to the blues as much as I used to back in college. I still have all my old LPs of Taylor’s music, but the most recent recordings on CD are ones I haven’t gotten around to buying yet.
But back in the days when I did manage to blow much of my spare cash on music and recordings, I remember that a Koko Taylor record was always more valued than some of the other stuff that passes for blues these days.
I still own some of my old vintage recordings of music by artists such as Muddy Waters, Magic Sam and B.B. King (who once gave us a recorded concert performed from our very own Cook County Jail).
BUT THERE WAS always a difference between listening to something like “I Just Wanna Make Love to You” by Muddy Waters, and anything recorded by someone like “Lil Ed and the Blues Imperials.”
Whether it was in the writing of the songs or just the fact that so much of life and our society has changed that no one could possibly come up with a song like “Hoochie Coochie Man” these days, the modern-day “bluesmen” all too often sound like a parody of the real thing.
Too much worried about getting the right “sound” to their guitar solo, rather than trying to catch the earthy feeling that is what makes the blues legitimate.
That is what always, to my ear, made Koko Taylor unique.
THE LADY FROM Tennessee who followed the migration of black people from the South to the South Side and who once was the cleaning woman for rich white people (who probably had no clue of her “night” job and its cultural significance) was one of the few blues singers I ever heard who had a sense of the real earthy feel that used to be heard in clubs all throughout Bronzeville some 70 years ago.
None of the guitar-oriented nonsense that can overwhelm a true blues singer, which at its best should be some of the simplest music played.
And definitely none of that bleached out sound that too often comes from listening to white rock ‘n’ roll types trying to play the blues because they like the guitar sound.
I’d rather hear Muddy Waters any day than any of the cover versions recorded back in the 1970s by Led Zeppelin or Eric Clapton – even though I know of people who feel just the opposite (they view the newer versions of the songs as “polished and improved” versions – I say they’re nuts).
THE WORST PEOPLE, in this regard, are the ones who think that “the Blues Brothers” film had anything to do with blues music. My reason for getting into that film is seeing the grittiness of a now-gone Chicago on film. The music itself is too pop oriented at times.
No one would ever call Koko Taylor’s music polished or pop. And that was its beauty.
What made her special is that she was still with us even into the 21st Century, giving us a taste of what used to echo from clubs along East 43rd Street (the old Checkerboard Lounge) back in the first third of the 20th.
Plus, she was still in her prime physically until recent years. So we got to hear the earthiness of the blues at its best.
THAT WAS PARTICULARLY rare. I can claim to have seen both Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker perform live. But by the time I saw them in the 1980s, they were old men who didn’t sound anything close to what they were in their prime.
Seeing Hooker, in particular, was like listening to one of those oldies revival tours, with bands such as the Buckinghams trying to pretend they can turn the calendar back some 40 years. In Hooker’s case, he was trying to go back about 60 years, and it wasn’t convincing.
It made me wish I could have seen him in his prime. But in the case of Koko, I got to see and hear her in her prime.
Those occasions will be among the moments I recall of an older Chicago likely for the rest of my life.
NOW EXCUSE ME while I walk over to my turntable (I still own a functioning one) and put on my copy of “Queen of the Blues.” (And I don’t want to hear arguments about how I ought to own the CD instead).
At this particular moment (which is about one day after I first learned Taylor died following complications from surgery performed a couple weeks ago), I think I need a jolt of “Queen Bee” to brighten my day.
-30-
EDITOR’S NOTE: Listen and learn for yourself about the musical career of the late (http://www.kokotaylor.com/index.html) Koko Taylor.
in a place far removed from the South Side atmosphere that her rough, rugged voice brought to mind.It was at Illinois State University, the Normal-based college that was within walking distance of my own alma mater – Illinois Wesleyan. Back in what was most likely 1984, Taylor and her Blues Machine band was earning a living performing the blues, and they gave a concert on the college campus.
WHAT MAKES THAT event stick so strongly in my mind is the fact that I literally got a front row center seat. I was probably about 10 feet away from her in what was a packed (several hundred, maybe up to 1,000 people) hall of people whose idea of a study break was to spend a Saturday night listening to Koko giving us her take on “Wang Dang Doodle” and other blues songs.
Now I don’t listen to the blues as much as I used to back in college. I still have all my old LPs of Taylor’s music, but the most recent recordings on CD are ones I haven’t gotten around to buying yet.
But back in the days when I did manage to blow much of my spare cash on music and recordings, I remember that a Koko Taylor record was always more valued than some of the other stuff that passes for blues these days.
I still own some of my old vintage recordings of music by artists such as Muddy Waters, Magic Sam and B.B. King (who once gave us a recorded concert performed from our very own Cook County Jail).
BUT THERE WAS always a difference between listening to something like “I Just Wanna Make Love to You” by Muddy Waters, and anything recorded by someone like “Lil Ed and the Blues Imperials.”
Whether it was in the writing of the songs or just the fact that so much of life and our society has changed that no one could possibly come up with a song like “Hoochie Coochie Man” these days, the modern-day “bluesmen” all too often sound like a parody of the real thing.
Too much worried about getting the right “sound” to their guitar solo, rather than trying to catch the earthy feeling that is what makes the blues legitimate.
That is what always, to my ear, made Koko Taylor unique.
THE LADY FROM Tennessee who followed the migration of black people from the South to the South Side and who once was the cleaning woman for rich white people (who probably had no clue of her “night” job and its cultural significance) was one of the few blues singers I ever heard who had a sense of the real earthy feel that used to be heard in clubs all throughout Bronzeville some 70 years ago.
None of the guitar-oriented nonsense that can overwhelm a true blues singer, which at its best should be some of the simplest music played.
And definitely none of that bleached out sound that too often comes from listening to white rock ‘n’ roll types trying to play the blues because they like the guitar sound.
I’d rather hear Muddy Waters any day than any of the cover versions recorded back in the 1970s by Led Zeppelin or Eric Clapton – even though I know of people who feel just the opposite (they view the newer versions of the songs as “polished and improved” versions – I say they’re nuts).
THE WORST PEOPLE, in this regard, are the ones who think that “the Blues Brothers” film had anything to do with blues music. My reason for getting into that film is seeing the grittiness of a now-gone Chicago on film. The music itself is too pop oriented at times.
No one would ever call Koko Taylor’s music polished or pop. And that was its beauty.
What made her special is that she was still with us even into the 21st Century, giving us a taste of what used to echo from clubs along East 43rd Street (the old Checkerboard Lounge) back in the first third of the 20th.
Plus, she was still in her prime physically until recent years. So we got to hear the earthiness of the blues at its best.
THAT WAS PARTICULARLY rare. I can claim to have seen both Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker perform live. But by the time I saw them in the 1980s, they were old men who didn’t sound anything close to what they were in their prime.
Seeing Hooker, in particular, was like listening to one of those oldies revival tours, with bands such as the Buckinghams trying to pretend they can turn the calendar back some 40 years. In Hooker’s case, he was trying to go back about 60 years, and it wasn’t convincing.
It made me wish I could have seen him in his prime. But in the case of Koko, I got to see and hear her in her prime.
Those occasions will be among the moments I recall of an older Chicago likely for the rest of my life.
NOW EXCUSE ME while I walk over to my turntable (I still own a functioning one) and put on my copy of “Queen of the Blues.” (And I don’t want to hear arguments about how I ought to own the CD instead).
At this particular moment (which is about one day after I first learned Taylor died following complications from surgery performed a couple weeks ago), I think I need a jolt of “Queen Bee” to brighten my day.
-30-
EDITOR’S NOTE: Listen and learn for yourself about the musical career of the late (http://www.kokotaylor.com/index.html) Koko Taylor.
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