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" Chickenhead is a Southern bar room jam band in the classic sense of the term. "
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By Ross Gohlke
You're sitting at home, getting the urge to hear some music. Live music. Blues music. Where do you go? For many in Memphis, the first answer is always Beale Street. But for many others, that is the last place to go. Despite what the City Council may want you to do, there are places to hear live music other than Beale Street. And in a new feature of BlueSpeak, we will take a look at such a place each month. We start with two of our favorites - the Place 2B and Murphy's - and we welcome nominations. You can drop us a line at our new address (BlueSpeak, 25 Linden Ave., Memphis, TN 38103) or E-mail us at wakeup@wspice.com. ***Monday at Murphy's can cure your blues When looking around Memphis for a cool out of the way place to hear some great music, Midtown would seem like a natural spot to turn. After all, Midtown is the closest thing Memphis has to a Bohemian quarter. Madison Avenue, its main artery, is lined with restaurants, neighborhood bars and legendary dives. The problem is that few of Midtown's hot spots consistently provide music worth listening to. The P&H Cafe is often packed when they feature live music, but that's only two or three times a month. Until last summer the World Famous Antenna hosted some of the best music in the city, but its new incarnation, The Void, has been a disappointment to many. Huey's offers live jazz and blues, but only on the weekends. So what's a bored guy to do on a regular old Monday Night? Head over to Murphy's, of course, one of Midtown's best kept secrets. Actually, Murphy's didn't seem like a secret at all when I wandered in recently to hear Chickenhead, the Monday night house band. I figure any place packed with people who don't want to leave when the bar closes at 3 a. m. on a Monday night must be getting the word out somehow. But it's not through heavy advertising or a high profile image. Murphy's sits on its unassuming corner at Madison and Avalon, content to be passed by if you don't notice it. No neon, no billboard signs. Just "Murphy's" painted over a clover leaf on the side of the building. Inside, the night never got old, the music never got stale and the crowd never got boring. Even by Midtown standards, it was about as eclectic a crowd as you'll find in Memphis. The average age was anyone's guess, and there was no such thing as the typical client: middle-aged men in camel's hair jackets, college kids, blue collars, bikers, slackers, young gentry dressed to the nines after another Christmas dinner party. Chickenhead is a Southern bar room jam band in the classic sense of the term. Murphy's is a magnet for night owls; a chance to "get lucky" for some; a place to meet old friends and new ones; a quick hustle at the pool table; and certainly a place for some good vibin' music. At least on Monday nights when Chickenhead plays. They've been playing Monday nights at Murphy's for over a year. That might have something to do with the crowd. When the band takes the stage it doesn't impose or disrupt the scene, except that people have to lean closer together to talk. That's not to suggest that Chickenhead plays background music. It's more of a total package experience--the beer and blues drenched rock'n'roll wouldn't sound as good down the road, and Murphy's wouldn't be nearly as welcoming and drink-inducing without Chickenhead. Cramming six, sometimes seven people onto a tiny corner stage with their backs to street window, they play Southern rock. Watching the lead singer, who also plays acoustic guitar, you can't help but draw comparisons to the Black Crowes. With long, stringy hair and a frame barely big enough to hang a t-shirt on, he downs beer after beer, belts out song after song with a voice cut from cigarette-stained velvet. The musicians don't take themselves too seriously. Because nobody leaves, they take long breaks when they feel like it. Still, they manage to pack the night with more than enough music. Chickenhead is a Southern bar room jam band in the classic sense of the term. The lead guitar player likes his effects and uses them to build layers of sound on top of the rhythm. The bass player sits on his stool in the corner, smoking cigarettes and holding up his end. The drummer, who also plays with local favorites Big Ass Truck, keeps things interesting and moving. The keyboards throw another element into the mix. Wherever you settle down in Murphy's at the bar, right in front of the band, back in the pool room where the music's volume is slightly dampened Chickenhead doesn't demand your full attention, and their music never becomes a busy clutter of noise you'd rather not deal with. On a Monday night when there's not much else going on, nothing feels more right. Just like the blues. ***For real blues in Memphis, there's only one Place 2B One of the places real blues lovers in Memphis know to go is the Place 2B. You'll have to look pretty hard to find it. Located at 1035 E. Brooks Rd., a couple of blocks down from Hernando's Hideaway, and around the corner from Graceland on Elvis Presley Blvd., the Place 2B is easier to get to if you know where you're going. The sign might not be lit up, but on a good night the parking lot will be full. A good night at the Place 2B is hard to beat, bringing together 15 or 20 musicians from around Memphis and the region, lasting until the wee hours of the morning. Some of the acts you'll see there: Ollie Nightingale, Ann Hines, Toni Green, Willie Covington, Bill Cody, Preacher Man, Chick Willis, the Total Package Band and Dr. Feelgood. Some of the them will sound familiar, some of them won't. But they're all part of the extended Memphis blues family that still survives and thrives in out of the way places like the Place 2B. Don't be surprised to see Larry Lee, Al Green's guitar player (who played with Jimi Hendrix for awhile), or Al Green's horn section backing the acts. Or maybe it's J. Blackfoote's band up there. Or Little Milton's. You never know exactly what you're going to get, and that's part of the fun. Nightingale, a frequent performer and patron here, explains the difference between the Place 2B and Beale Street. "If you go to Beale Street looking for entertainment - and they have fine entertainment on Beale Street - you probably get exactly who you went to see, and that's about all. But here you might hear four or five different acts. Not only will you get whoever you came to see, but there's always guest artists around. "We need a black club to play blues on the black side of town, because it is our identification. The blues is certainly in different parts of town, but that's not helping our neighborhood." - Chick Willis And all these people are good, not just somebody off the street." In other words, this is where the musicians hang out. They might be playing Beale, but after their gig, they head for the Place 2B to relax with their pals over a beer. And if they feel like it they might end up on-stage jamming with whoever happens to be playing that night. Nightingale says, "When you come out here, this is the place to be. It's where everybody be. And we just come here and sit around and hang and play and have a good time." On Beale Street the musicians do their job. But this is where they come to play. Even the Beale folks know what a good thing the Place 2B is - Randle Catron, the executive director of the Beale Street Development Corporation, can sometimes be spotted here. Of course, not every blues artist in town thinks of the Place 2B as a second home. "Not all of 'em, but the majority of 'em," explains Charles Rice, bass player and music director for Ollie's Nightingale Express. "It's mostly the adult crowd." Although the Place 2B might not have the new-and-improved sophistication and marketing glitz of Beale, it has other things going for it. Charles points out, "You don't have any problems. You notice there's no security. A young crowd you have a fight every second. You got to cater to the older generation sometimes." Beale Street, with its neon signs meant to conjure the mythical glory days of Memphis blues, draws tourists from around the world and locals who want to show off their city's heritage for out-of-town guests. Unfortunately, not many tourists find their way to the Place 2B, but when they do, it's quite an experience. Teacher and the Houserockers actually got to play here. A Japanese band whose members came to Memphis to get married a couple of years ago had their wedding reception at the Place 2B. Imogene "Gene" Miller, the club's owner, still hears from them on occasion. Chick Willis, a Georgia bluesman who made his first record after winning a talent contest in the '50s and brother of the late blues great Chuck Willis, plays on Beale every once in awhile and headlines at the Place 2B several times a year. He explains, "It's hard to be comfortable on Beale Street because you have to play to the expectations of the audience. Out here the audience is blues lovers - people who were raised on the blues, and you don't have to worry." Being in the audience at the Place 2B it's easy to feel like part of the family and hard not to experience the music, no matter what your skin color. Willis is especially aware of how important it is to remember where blues came from, and how well the Place 2B has done just that. "We need a black club to play blues on the black side of town, because it is our identification. The blues is certainly in different parts of town, but that's not helping our neighborhood. We would like to make blues bring something back to where it came from." Miller, whose older-than-middle-age frame is worn out by the night's reverie, perks up. She likes to be in the middle of everything, and around here, she usually is. She looks at Willis and blurts out, "I don't think of the blues as a black thing, on the black side of [town]. I never have thought that, Chick." "It's black music though, baby," he answers. "I think everybody can have the blues or get the blues. Blues is like depressing, when you're tired," Miller protests. "No, no, no. Did you hear 'I Want a Big Fat Woman' [a song dedicated all the ladies in the audience over 150 pounds] a while ago? Did that leave you depressed?" Willis asks. "I think if you hear it it relieves your problems," Miller replies. And of course she is right. The blues is for everybody. But Willis is right, too. The blues mustn't forget where it came from. But even if the Place 2B is a black club, Miller has always run it as if it were for everyone, and it shows. After one visit you'll be on a first name basis with Sheila, Milller's niece who helps run the place. She's usually behind the bar, where, incidentally, you can get a quart of Budweiser for $3. Besides beer, it's BYOB. And boy, do they. Bottles of everything from vodka to whisky litter the tables. Big bottles. Ann Hines, a Memphis singer with one album under her belt and another on the way, explains how the atmosphere and audience at the Place 2B makes for greater artistic freedom. "On Beale Street you'll get nothing but the blues. Out here you get more of a variety. You might hear someone sing Anita Baker or Aretha Franklin." What Beale Street doesn't reveal is the incredible diversity and size of the local blues scene. It's not that Ann Hines doesn't do the blues ("If you don't know the blues, you're not a real artist," she says, "because that's where it all comes from."). But there are many artists who consider themselves part of the blues scene who don't play the blues as Beale Street defines it. James Holly is one such musician. Part of the Memphis music scene since the '70s when he was a session player at Hi Records, Holly has always been in the periphery of the spotlight. His Total Package Band, which often plays at the Place 2B, doesn't do just blues. "I think I can play blues guitar, but our stuff is more pop. Memphis is stuck up on one thing, and I don't just play blues." Still, he wouldn't mind playing Beale Street if he got the chance. For Holly it's not a matter of playing at the preferred places. That's a luxury he can't afford. "I want to play downtown. I want to play where the people enjoy the music, where they pay you." Holly is a testament to what exactly sets apart the blues - in all of its manifestations - from so much of current popular music. As much of a pain is it can be, the music has to be played. It's never just a matter of money. Holly says, "I try to put my feeling into my guitar, and a lot of people know how I feel when I play my guitar." Watching Holly up on stage playing behind so many great blues singers tonight, it's hard to believe blues isn't his main squeeze. I can tell how he feels - tired, hot, and in love with the music. That's what you'll find at the Place 2B: artists in love with their art, the way music is supposed to be. One particular night Chick Willis is the last performer. It's 3 a.m. His last song is a blues-ified version of an old country and western standard, "Can't Stop Lovin' You," dedicated to the "light-skin folks" in the house (all three of us). Over the music Willis is giving an altar-call of sorts: "I want ya'll to do me a favor. When you look up and see a sign says there's a blues show, an r&b show, goin' on here at the Place 2B, get on the telephone call your friends. Say, let's go out and have a ball tonight. We got to keep the Place 2B just like it is. Lord have mercy. I'll see ya'll next time, okay?" He knows he'll be back, just like me.
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