Delta notes

Well, it was another successful trip to Clarksdale for the Juke Joint Festival, which is to say, we all survived despite little sleep, Crown and Bushmills for hydration, and barbequed ribs for breakfast.

We ate two meals at Wop’s after closing Annie Belle’s Friday and Saturday. If there is a better burger in this ol’ world I have not tasted it as yet. We did not see the devil woman while dining on the hood of our rental car, which frankly, was fine with me.

It wasn’t all ribs and burgers. We had an awesome dinner at Hick's Hot Tamales where Bill Clinton once ate.

Musically we saw many of our favorites from last year including Big Jack Johnson, Big George Brock, Terry “Harmonica” Bean, KM Williams (with Washboard Jackson), Cedric Burnsides and Lightnin’ Malcolm. And lots more of course. We were immersed in music from 10 a.m. until 1 a.m. every day. We also saw the venerable T. Model Ford and Honey Boy Edwards. It’s always fun to see these links to the past. Honey Boy learned to play guitar from Robert Johnson, but they are both around 90 and their playing is not what I’m sure it once was.

A big pleasant surprise was the appearance of Watermelon Slim (above), an Okie who mostly writes truck driver songs, who recently moved to the Delta. There was a flat board set on sawhorses on the stage. First he got out a mojo bag filled with various talisman – a feather, a little stone figure, some glass pieces – it was mostly too small to make out; then he laid out his steel acoustic guitar and played it horizontally with a slide in a style all his own. Slim’s voice is also something you’re not likely to confuse for anyone else. Plus I had a chance to chat him up for a couple minutes before his set. Great. I gotta get me a mojo bag.

Biggest surprise: Mark “Porkchop” Holder, a singer, guitar and harp player. You can watch him play here for now, but I plan to tell a little story about seeing him at the New Roxie in a later post.
Man in audience: “You awesome ‘chop!”
Porkchop: “You should talk to my old lady. (pause) Hell, I should talk to my old lady.”

Second biggest surprise: that we could stay in a motel that made the Uptown look like the Clarksdale Ritz Carlton. We stayed at the Budget Motel this year. Buzzard had to brush a cockroach from my hat at breakfast yesterday. But during the festival you have to take what you can get. Big Jack’s entourage stayed there Saturday night – or at least his mini-bus did. There were some new shacks at Hopson’s Plantation, but it’s too far out of town.

Clarksdale is home of “The Bigs.” Big Jack, Big George, and now two Big Reds: the owner of the juke joint of the same name, plus a big lady singer with a wild mane of red hair and a voice like Sapphire. She was really good.

There were a lot more people there this year. Oxford is just 45 minutes down the road and a couple hundred Ol’ Miss kids came over on Saturday. They added a little energy and eye candy to the festivities, but made it tough to get into the most popular venues, so Buzz, Rocket* and I worked the smaller joints as much as possible.

A young, white, wannabe bluesman, in a hat, shirt and soul patch supplied by central casting was in line ahead of us for breakfast at Big Red’s rib wagon Sunday morning. He got the rib platter.
Red: “$11”
YWWB: (disbelief in his voice) “$11!?”
Red: “Where you from?”
YWWB: “Memphis. Atlanta. Denver. Miami.”
Red: “See, that’s your problem. You from too many places.”

We spent a lot of time in Tricia’s this year. They have a high tolerance for flasks. Last year it was an empty shell with sheetrock walls. Now it’s an Italian restaurant with plastic grapes hanging from the ceiling. I think I liked it better last year, but Action Jackson and her band were great, especially the big ol’ farm boy on harp who could move like a man half his size.

We had perfect weather. The beverages of choice were Crown Royal Black (who knew), Bushmills and $2 Buds, but you can only drink so much beer.

They are building condos on the top floor of the old Woolworth’s Five & Dime downtown. I’ll try to get a price point for those of you interested in having a second home in the Delta.

Our record is intact: we are still the only white people we’ve seen in Annie Belles. While waiting in the Memphis airport yesterday we stopped in the Blue Note Café for an eye-opener. Our waitress grew up in Clarksdale so we had a fun time relating the event of the weekend. She couldn’t believe we visited Annie Belles: “You mighta danced with my mama!”

We couldn’t get Rocket’s cousin’s Imperial this year but we rented the ultimate bluesmobile – a Ford Flex. That’s how we roll baby.

It takes a while to learn to speak Delta.
Lady on the street to us: “Hey how yall?”
Buzzard: “We’re good. How yall?”
Lady: “Ain’t nobody but me but I’m good.”

Well, that's the news from Clarksdale where all the music is great and the ribs are all above average.
There picture on the right are still good. Clarksdale doesn't change much year-to-year.


* The artist formerly known as McRik. I had to further disguise him so as not to totally cripple his square life.