Five years ago Janet had a conference in New Orleans. This gave me all the excuse I needed to plan the Mississippi Meander – a two-week drive from New Orleans to Chicago up the great American Waterway in search of ghosts, vampires, Indians and the blues. The trip resulted in more than one t-shirt. This t-shirt starts one afternoon in Memphis…
We’d driven up from Clarksdale that morning and at lunchtime arrived at the gates of Graceland. I’m not a big Elvis fan, but the material he recorded for Sun records and RCA is among the finest rock & Roll in history.
GracelandGraceland is smaller than you’d expect – there are far bigger mansions in Memphis, although few with four graves, a guitar-shaped pool and a couple of private jets in the back garden. From the outside it’s a white mansion in a well-tended garden with ornate gates. Inside it’s a museum of terrible 70s décor, with avocado green shag-pile carpets and poodle wallpaper.
Doing the self-guided tour, past some truly woeful interior decorating decisions. Most of the upstairs was out of boundsThere was a pool room, a firing range, a walk-in bar, a small and utilitarian kitchen, a hi-fi the size of a fridge, umpteen deer & cattle skulls, various souvenirs, pinball machines and even the odd musical instrument scattered around. But mostly there was nasty décor.
As the senses started to fail at the sheer kitschness of the experience, you found yourself in a corridor with a framed copy of ‘Milkcow Blues Boogie’ by Elvis Presley, Scotty & Bill. Next to it was ‘Mystery Train’ and then you entered a massive room floor-to-ceiling with gold records, outfits and awards. At that point you remember why you’re here: Elvis was indeed the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll.
The music room, with giant stereo system and in the next room two pinball machines
The first Elvis Presley single
Heartbreak Hotel - the first of his RCA singles, first US number one, first international hit, first gold record, and an all round piece of genius
Stick this up your "vinyl resurgence"We had two nights in Memphis; both evenings we spent in Beale Street – the street of blues, bars and tourist-tat shops. At night the street is closed to traffic. Locals and tourists bustle around looking and listening to the music blaring from every building. Neon flares from the Gibson factory up a side street and everywhere is hot and humid. A fire engine appeals for donations by while police men sit nearby eating doughnuts, drinking coffee and conforming to stereotype.
Beale Street Photo by Janet GoverAs we walked around the corner at the top of the street we were hit by the noise and glare of the whole street and then the weirdest thing happened. The music playing near us changed from one piece of unrecognised (by us) hip-hop to another, whereupon about 50 people started to dance, as though this was a music video. They knew the moves and were synchronised. This went on for the length of the song and then as soon as the music changed the crowd stopped dancing and all continued on their way as if nothing had happened. I never worked out what the music was, whether this was a flash-mob or just a thing that happens in Beale Street.
Most of the ‘blues’ bars were just regular large bars with piped music. Some had actual bands, playing to the conversation, but there was still one surviving blues joint. Mister Handy’s Blues Hall is the width of a house with a bar down one side and a stage at the end, with barely any room for punters.
Mister Handly's Blues Hall, Beale Street. Photo by Janet GoverThe band of the night was centred around the rhythm section of two enormous men who sat stoney-faced and delivered the goods. While we there they were joined by guitar and keyboard payers and a woman with a huge afro and a bigger voice. She was quite incredible and it was an amazing set in a tiny room with a small but enthusiastic midweek crowd. Unusually there was no bucket passed around for tips (that I recall).
I’ve lost my records of who she was and whether we saw anyone else there. I think we did, but there are no other photos to jog my memory.
The rhythm section didn't even leave the stage between sets. Mister Handly's Blues Hall Photo by Janet GoverThe musical highlight of the street wasn’t in a bar – they were a three-piece playing outside a nightclub before it opened. The All Night Long Band had a guitar player with a ZZ Top beard, a drummer and a harmonica player straight out of hillbilly cliché territory. They played a slow stalking blues and had a huge crowd around them. For the fast numbers couples would come out of the crowd and dance – some were greeted by name, others seemed to by passers-by. We stopped to listen on both evenings and I bought the album, but not the t-shirt.
The All Night Long Band set up outside Coyote Ugly, Beale Street. Photo by Janet GoverFrom Memphis we went on to Nashville, St Louis and Chicago, but none offered music to compare with Beale Street.
The crowd in Beale Street. Occasionally a guy would start dancing and drag women out the crowd. A classic roustabout manoeuvre. Photo by Janet Gover
Video
All Night Long Band
I did a search for videos and this was the first result. It's one of the nights we were there!
Janet can be seen in the crowd, with the occasional flash of bald-spot from me...
I guess these places have turned into tourist traps now, but good music is always fun.
BTW Have you seen Wild Rose? Nice mix of Glasgow and Nashville.
It was a tourist trap, but we WERE tourists. And there did seem to be a lot of locals.
Janet and I were discussing this over lunch and Beale Street was much more 'real' than downtown Nashville (an infinite number of hopefuls who think they'll be signed tomorrow) or New Orleans' Bourbon Street (stag & hen do's throwing up in the gutters).
Will check the film out when it hits streaming - thanks for the tip.