Raikespeare's Corner

Some musical moments in my life will always haunt me. The first album I ever bought, for example, was Backstreet Boys’ Milennium. When somebody recommended Creedence Clearwater Revival to me, I misremembered the band name and ended up illegally downloading a whole Creed album instead. And the first time I ever heard this Howlin’ Wolf song was when it appeared in a Viagra commercial.

Oh, and don’t think this was a one time thing. They used it again…

[There should be a Viagra commercial with a middle aged white man fixing an overheating 69 Chevrolet Camaro, but I couldn’t find that video online.]

It was the theme of a whole series of the Viagra “Age where giving up isn’t who you are” ad campaign. And I’m really, really torn about this. On one hand, it introduced me to one of my favorite songs. On the other hand, it is very hard for me to put in few words how much of an erect dick slap in the face this ad campaign is to the memory of Chester Arthur Burnett, the man better known by the stage name Howlin’ Wolf.

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So I will just tell you a long story. With the invention of the electric guitar, many musical formats were evolving to accommodate the possibilities to come with amplification, and blues, in spite of its lowdown folksy roots, was no exception. By the 1940’s the center for blues had moved from the Mississippi Delta in the south to Chicago in the north, and the city brought with it the benefits of modernity to enhance the style of the blues. Soon two personalities arose whose professional rivalry with one another would become symbolic for a struggle over the soul of Blues music for years to come. Their backgrounds were astonishingly similar; they both were born in Mississippi, and both moved to Chicago as young adults. Both had a following around their stage presences, and would become some of the most influential Blues musicians of all time. One was Muddy Waters, and the other one was Howlin’ Wolf.

Muddy Waters had the ambition of taking Blues to a wider audience than just traditional blacks. He developed a format that kept the blues structure and much of the content, but made the delivery more upbeat and lively. Much like his music, he had laidback charisma that showed in his stage presence; his style was very popular, and caught on in many circles, particularly in England, where people hadn’t experienced much blues in any version before, let alone with such energy. He inspired other British artists to try the style, which eventually spawned the Yardbirds, the Animals, and the Rolling Stones – and with the, a new generation of musicians with a harder style of rock than American Rock and Roll artists like Elvis Presley, Little Richard and Chuck Berry. But not every blues artists were pleased with what Muddy Waters was doing; many accused him of taking the blues away from its roots in the African American experience, and in some instances Muddy Waters found himself more popular with white audiences than black ones.

The other artist, as you may have guessed, was Howlin’ Wolf. An intense, imposing stage presence, who cultivated a public identity that mixed reality with a pseudo-tall tale legend, and was very vocal about keeping the blues raw, down to earth and angry. And speaking of vocal, he had one of the most amazing, distinctive, dynamic, earthy, powerful voices in all recorded music. There is a reason why he’s called Howlin’ Wolf; he put this passion and force in his voice that many artists like Jim Morrison and Eddie Vedder have attempted to some degree but no one has ever matched in the rest of popular music. To this day, Howlin’ Wolf is my favorite vocalist in all music. Apologies to Freddy Mercury, Roger Daltry or Robert Plant; I really can’t help myself.

Someone said that Howlin’ Wolf had an ability like no one else to get the house rocking while leaving all the partygoers scared as shit of him.

In many respects, Muddy Waters’ expansive mindset reigned supreme against Howlin’ Wolf’s purist style; Muddy Waters accordingly is rewarded with more fame and acclaim. But as an artist alone, I usually prefer Howlin’ Wolf’s music. I once found a double CD of Howlin’ Wolf’s first two studio releases, Howlin’ Wolf and Moanin’ in the Moonlight at Barnes and Noble on sale for just $5. One of the best purchases of music I ever made in my life hands down! And it’s hard for me to explain it in any other words except there is something so profound about Howlin’ Wolf’s intensity in every part of his music. You know how some rappers claim to be playing a ‘character’ when they sing about the gangster lifestyle? Howlin’ Wolf does the same, except that the character he’s playing is a force of nature – a seventh son, or a voodoo child. It’s very common among African American male artists to use music as a medium to conjure and play out a power fantasy. But the difference between a typical modern gangster rapper and Howlin’ Wolf is the difference between John Travolta as Vincent Vega and Samuel Jackson as Jules Winnfield in Pulp Fiction. Or perhaps more to the point, the difference between any of the nihilists from The Big Lebowski and Anton from No Country for Old Men. One is having too much fun to take seriously, and the other one is so serious that you feel intimidated just thinking about him.

And Howlin’ Wolf was much more puritanical when it came to the blues. He warmed up to the use of electric guitars but he was angered by the notion that artists like Cream and the Animals could be confused for a blues band. To him, it wasn’t the blues, because it didn’t connect to that experience of poverty and torment. And he means it too. Listen to the way he talks about the blues at the beginning here:

So now that I have that out of the way, let me ask: what could be a greater insult to the memory of Howlin’ Wolf, what could insult his memory even more, than the notion that his music – his music which he made clear was about the American black experience of poverty, and a tendency to vice to escape the emptiness – that his music would be used to sell upper-middle class white men some pills because the biggest problem in their life is that they can’t get it up when they want it?!

God, someone write a blues song about that travesty!

Given as many times as I have seen those Viagra commercials, I should have been really sick of Smokestack Lightning. It uses one riff, the rhythm and bassline stay constant throughout, there is no crescendo, build or release. But I’m not sick of it. I still adore this song. For one thing, the riff is one of my favorites. It keeps an understated authority through out. And the rhythm is gives a toetapping feel for the song.

But – again – the thing that really makes this song amazing is the vocal performance by Howlin’ Wolf. The moment he comes in with his first yell, I’m absolutely hooked on the song. He puts so much behind it; it’s raw and smokey, but he uses it so well. It’s like, well… smokestack lighting!

Smokestack Lightning, if you were curious, is the sparks that come out of a train smokestack when the smoke creates friction. The rest of the lyrics aren’t that unusual; it’s mostly Howlin’ Wolf angered that a woman is leaving him on a train. But the way he gets that anger across is incredible. This song is just a way to make him howl to the moon, and that’s plenty a treat for me. Damn, can this Big Bad Wolf can huff and puff and blow his way onto number 7 on my list!