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Yank Rachell
Blue Goose 2010
1973 |
| side 1 | side 2 |
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| 1 |
Tappin' That Thing #
(Rachell) : |
1 |
Shotgun Blues #
(Rachell) |
| 2 |
Pack My Clothes And Go
(Rachell) : |
2 |
Sugar Farm Blues
(Rachell) : |
| 3 |
Skinny Woman Blues
(Rachell) : |
3 |
Diving Duck Blues #
(Estes) : |
| 4 |
Matchbox Blues
(Rachell) : |
4 |
Wadie Green
(Rachell) : |
| 5 |
Texas Tony #
(Rachell) : |
5 |
Peach Tree Blues
(Rachell) : |
| 6 |
Des Moines, Iowa
(Rachell) : |
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: |
: |
| musicians |
James 'Yank' Rachell (vocal, guitar)
# James 'Yank' Rachell (vocal, mandolin), Backwards Sam Firk [Michael Stewart] (guitar)
[recorded 19??]
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| notes |
eve of departure: Blue Goose's idea of recording Yank Rachell as a country blues soloist seems obvious, but no one in the blues field has thought of it since his rediscovery in the early 1960's. Perhaps Rachell's original guitar efforts (recorded in 1934) were simply too obscure or his partnership with Sleepy John Estes taken so much for granted
that his own abilities as a country bluesman have been overlooked. Rachell has been informed of Blue Goose's
brainstorm and promises to rehearse his old sounds. He understands clearly that the company is attempting to
document the kind of music he played in his native Brownsville, Tennessee in the 1920's rather than the styles he
played afterwards in St. Louis and Chicago. Given his adaptability, he should be able to deliver the goods. In 1964,
when I first met him, Rachell played songs like High Heeled Sneakers on electric guitar; since then he has even
dabbled in psychedelic rock. Mike Stewart ("Backwards Sam Firk"), who is coming to Indianapolis to help record
and accompany Rachell, is very excited by the idea of working with him. "I can't think of anyone else I'd rather back
up," he tells me. When I ask why he holds Rachell's original works in such high esteem he points to Rachell's
capacity to improvise and a variety of peculiar guitar techniques he used like backwards thumb rolls. Hmm.
first day: Arriving at our luxury suite, Rachell makes a favorable impression on our entourage (which now includes
Woody Mann) with his general urbanity and his flashy car (his son has a Cadillac dealership), although he is a little
too sedate for my tastes. He talks up a friend (J.T. Adams) who fails to meet Blue Goose's impossibly exacting
standards of musicianship. As for Rachell's own playing, it lacks nothing in enthusiasm, but doesn't (in a practice
session) date beyond the cliched boogie style of the Thirties that was the antithesis of country blues in its very
predictability. Like Shirley Griffith, he would prefer to record 45s than LPs and is wary of our attempts to convince
him that the old blues are "coming back".
second day: Anticipating the magic moment when I will hype Rachell for liner notes, I try to draw him out about his
background. He notes that his last name isn't spelled "Rachel", as most of his records bill him (his wife calls him
"Rach"), and that he was given the nickname "Yank" in childhood by a grandmother. (His real name is James.) His
parents disapproved of blues and only allowed him to play church songs at home. He first met Sleepy John Estes in
Brownsville around 1919 and worked strictly as an accompanist behind him in the (mistaken, I think) belief that his
own signing was inadequate. Some of their original recordings, however, were actually Rachell compositions. Jab
Jones, who played piano behind them, died of alcoholism about two years after their 1929 session; Rachell never
considered him much of a musician. In the Thirties Estes drifted off with other local bluesmen like Son Bonds and
Charlie Pickett while Rachell held a steady job as a cook. Only then, as a part-time musician, did he think of himself
as a soloist or a guitarist (he had played mandolin with Estes). He seems to have little affection left for the less
respectable Estes. He takes great pride in himself as a "professional", and illustrates his professionalism by
remarking that he would enter recording studios in the Thirties without having given a moment's forethought to the
songs he intended to record. Afterwards, he would rarely listen to his own records. Unfortunately, Rachell's memory
rather than his spontaneity will be at stake when he records for Blue Goose.
third day: Visiting with Guitar Pete Franklin (another great Indianapolis bluesman), Mike Stewart and I are met with the usual musical oneupmanship, this time directed against
Rachell, whom Franklin calls "Rach-tell". Rushing to Rachell's musical defense, Mike lectures Franklin on the
subject of backwards thumb rolls. "Yeah, I can do that stuff, too, gimme the guitar!" Franklin orders. A moment later,
he adds sheepishly: "Tell me if I'm doin' what Rach-tell does, 'cause I don't have the slightest idea what you're talkin'
about." Everyone laughs, including Franklin.
fourth day: Ry Cooder's comment in a magazine interview that he never had the heart to buttonhole Rachell and his
cohorts after their concerts because they always looked so worn out applies no less to Rachell's private life, which
discourages kibbutzing. The end of each working day leaves him in a stupor, and it is anyone's guess where he will
even summon the energy to record for Blue Goose. Each morning he awakens at five and drives twenty five miles to
take his daughter to work before putting in a full day as a custodian. Then he drives another twenty five miles to take
his daughter home. A doctor has recently warned him to stay off his feet, but Rachell has no alternative to his
exhausting routine other than welfare, which is unacceptable to him. At present he is more devoted to the care of his
family than to his own career advancement as a musician. In fact, he is exceedingly anxious that we should audition
his son, who leads a gospel group.
fifth day: According to Pete Franklin the death of blues in Indianapolis was apparent in the Forties when a local blues club Memphis Minnie and St. Louis Jimmy opened collapsed for want of customers. He has no illusions about the commerciality of blues in the age of rock, but reserves contempt (perhaps born of envy) for bluesmen like Rachell who have re-directed their energies in the form of manual labor, and purchased neighborhood respectability in doing
so. Down the street from Rachell's a grotesque parody of the 20's blues scene is enacted nightly by a woman
named Bootsie, who throws her house open to the local wino contingent and always gets off the same one-liner
("Sonofabitch, I'll cut your head off and dare your liver to quiver") as the house musician bangs on a piano with two serviceable keys. Nothing resembling music is heard at Bootsie's until Mike fetches Rachell, whose idea of an
enjoyable evening is to play checkers with Shirley Griffith, and who now looks wildly incongruous against a real
barrelhouse backdrop.
sixth day: It is beginning to look doubtful that Rachell can re-create his original guitar style during our stay here. Periodically, he phones our luxury suite to ask when his session will take place, sounding more impatient with each call. Actually, we are stalling him in the hopes that by the time Shirley Griffith and Franklin have recorded he will have recollected his old material. By now, he is beginning to sense (as are we) that his session may never materialize.
seventh day: Mike and I are dispatched as point men to Rachell's house in a last-ditch effort to coax country blues out of him. If he cannot play pre-boogie music the session will be cancelled, for his city stuff is already familiar to the present-day blues audience. We undertake this assignment with fear and trembling.
When Rachell receives our spiel he reacts in a surprisingly nonchalant and realistic fashion for a blues singer.
Instead of trying to persuade us that his music is precisely what we are looking for, or inventing some other face-
saving story, he simply says: "Boys, there's no way in the world I'll ever get those old pieces back. I've tried but I
just can't remember them. We can sit here a month and nothing's gonna happen." There seems to be nothing left to
say, and I shift in my chair uncomfortably, waiting for an opportune moment to escape. Even Bootsie's would be a
haven compared to Rachell's living-room on this occasion. Firk looks equally uncomfortable.
By way of a final gambit I ask Rachell if he can recall the first song he ever played. The gambit falls flat. He can only
remember that it was something in "Vastapol" (open E) tuning. "Well, what about Wadie Green?" Firk asks him.
Absent-mindedly, Rachell begins to finger his guitar in an attempt to recall Wadie Green, an unissued recording he
made with Estes in 1930. Then a small miracle takes place. With hardly a pause between each song and only
occasional prompting by Firk and myself, Rachell casually spins out one vintage blues theme after another over the
next hour. By the time he puts his guitar down and re-lights his pipe he has run through more than enough material
to float an LP. I have never witnessed a more startling exhibition by any bluesman. "How did you manage to come
up with your old pieces all of a sudden?" I ask Rachell. He says he doesn't know.
final day: Recording Rachell is a fait accompli. The session is terrific. It has far more variety than his old 1934 recordings, which consisted of variations on a single theme in the key of G (still his favorite country blues key). He even dusts off a couple of songs in E, including an archaic-sounding Matchbox, which should surprise everyone who has followed Rachell's recordings closely. His solo Diving Duck is faithful to the original version he did with Estes, whose own voice is now just a whisper. Mike's musical contributions are never obtrusive, providing good bass counterpoint to Rachell's bleating mandolin, and justifying Pete, Franklin's evaluation of him: "Boy, do you know what you are? - You're ... a nigger." But the star of the show is still Rachell, guardian of the work ethic.
As we prepare to leave Indianapolis I ask Rachell if he is pleased by the idea of recording his old material. He says
bluntly that he would much prefer to play something more modern, that the old songs don't sell any more, but that
he is a professional who does what he's told.
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Blue Goose, 54 King Street, New York, N.Y. 10014
[Company no longer in business !!!!]
PRODUCED FOR BLUE GOOSE RECORDS,
a Div. of Yellow Bee Productions, Inc.
by Nick Perls
COVER ART: Bob Aulicino
NOTES: Stephen Calt
RECORDING AND ENGINEERING: Nick Perls
All songs except Diving Duck copyright to Yellow Bee Music (BMI) ® 1973
Backwards Sam Firk (Michael Stewart) appears through the courtesy of Adelphi Records
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| Reviews
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"His most beautiful piece, ... outstanding"
Herzhaft 1992
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Please feel free to complete,
to correct or to comment my writings
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