................................................................................................................... Photo - John "Hoppy" Hopkins



ROCKMAN

Way cool early Cramps shot BroomWagon ....... Brian Jones lives & so does Sara Jones



ROCKMAN

Great photo, Rockman!

ROCKMAN

Did you get a new sliver rocke ^

Great colletion of live Stones Songs from that era. The collection did make me think that it would be a great setlist as presented. However, I doubt if the Stones would play a non-Stones song for an encore. I thinking they never have.

Did you get a new sliver rocke ^.... Yeah!!! You got the sliver.... huhha..



THE AUSTRALIAN -------------------- 2 November 2013



ROCKMAN

THE AGE ------------------- 2 November 2013



ROCKMAN

Aww--great find! I have to admit I'd wondered if that story was mostly a figment of Keith's imagination, but apparently not . .

Aww--great find!





ROCKMAN

The Pupils aka The Eyes - 1966

Roland Janes guitarist for Billy Lee Riley's band The Little Green Men
and session player on many Sun recordings passed away on 18 October 2013








ROCKMAN

GIANTS.





We really are not worthy.


"As we say in England, it can get a bit trainspottery"

The Rolling Stones - Sweet Summer Sun - Hyde Park Live
Japanese release - DVD - 3CD - 16 page booklet



ROCKMAN

Ah it was funny seeing this article in the Age on the weekend about Keith - I wonder what took the chick so long to come forward?

pool's in but the patio ain't dry

Bobby Parker, influential blues singer-guitarist and showman

"Bobby Parker, a soul-blues singer and guitarist whose recordings from the late 1950s and 1960s - notably the propulsive groove of "Watch Your Step" - influenced performers as varied as John Lennon, Carlos Santana and the band Led Zeppelin, died Oct 31 at an emergency care facility in Bowie, Md. He was 76 and lived in Temple Hills, Md.

The cause was a heart attack, said a friend, Omar Ashaka.

The Wasington-based bluesman cut a swaggering figure on stage with his preacher-like exhortations to "say yeah, children," his shiny suits and his lacquered, James Brown-style hairdo. His tenor voice both careesed and screamed the blues over his powerful, singing - and sometimes over-amped - lead guitar. And he loved to walk the bar or walk through the crowd as he worked the strings.

A veteran of the "chitlin circut" of black theaters, Mr. Parker wrote two much-covered recordings on the rhythm-and-blues charts, "Blues Get Off My Shoulder" (1958), a somber blues ballad enlivened by his trenchant guitar work, and ""Watch Your Step" (1961).

"Watch Your Step," recorded at Edgewood Studios at 16th and K Streets for V-Tone records, was a hit in the United States and England. The song's insistent riff, which Parker said evolved from the Afro-Cuban jazz composition "Manteca," caught on with the mod subcluture in London.

Jefferson Airplan, Santana, and the Spencer Davis Group (with singer Steve Winwood) all covered the song. Its guitar riff was reprised by Led Zeppelin's "Moby Dick" and the 1962 instrumental "The Black Widow" by fellow Washington guitarist Link Wray.

The influence of "Watch Your Step" extended to John Lennon of The Beatles, who acknowledged in a 1974 radio interview that "Day Tripper" and "I Feel Fine" were attempts to write songs built on variations of the "Watch Your Step" riff. (Mr. Parker's record had been released in Germany while the Fab Four were paying their dues at Hamburg's Star-Club.)

In 1969, Mike Vernon, producer of the British blues band Fleetwood Mac, brought Mr. Parker to England at the height of the psychedelic era. The tour troubled Mr. Parker.

"They wanted me to act like [Jimi] Hendrix, and I was a traditional bluesman," he later told the The Post. "It was a disappointment that everybody was channeled that way and not perceptive to other things."

"I had two nice little guitars and they wanted me to break them up" like Hendrix, he recalled. "I said, 'Man, I'm not breaking up my guitars.'"

Full article:
[www.washingtonpost.com]



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 2013-11-05 19:10 by latebloomer.

...don't know if it's him or jody Williams who plays on the great Bo Diddley track "Looking for a woman".....

Don't no either, jp.M. The WAPO obit just says Parker played behind Bo Diddley on “The Ed Sullivan Show” in 1955.

Parker, along with Chuck Brown are two of the legends in the Southeast DC music scene.

ROCKMAN

There's your answer jpM...nice detective work, Rockee.

.....that's me just an ole bounty-hunter ....



ROCKMAN

Record Collector 420 -- November 2013



ROCKMAN

ROCKMAN

I Still Miss Someone: Roland Janes 1933-2013
Published on November 7 2013
By Peter Guralnick




I really loved Roland.

But then so did everyone else who really knew him.

I could try to be clever and say it was for his virtuosity (Roland, a master of mischievous word play, would undoubtedly frown on that), because he was indeed a brilliant guitarist, who provided all those carefully calibrated, arrestingly spontaneous solos and rhythm patterns on so many of the Sun Records classics.

But that, of course, is not what I am speaking of here.

I’m speaking, really, of a virtuosity of spirit, which no one who ever encountered the man could miss. A virtuosity—a generosity of soul that is universally praised, often sought after, but rarely attained. And in Roland’s case, like his guitar playing, it was achieved without visible effort, scarcely ever calling attention to itself.

If you ever visited the Sam C. Phillips Recording Studio at 639 Madison Avenue in Memphis, you would know Roland Janes. He was there managing the studio, engineering sessions, greeting the world, every day more or less for the last thirty years, working with everyone from Charlie Rich to Memphis rappers Three 6 Mafia and Al Kapone to Bob Dylan, Jerry Lee Lewis, and anyone who might wander in off the street looking to cut a “personal” record, the same way Elvis once did at Sam’s original studio at 706 Union around the corner.

At that original Sun studio Roland played on just about every hit (and, he would be quick to point out with a dry chuckle, on even more misses) that came out on the label from mid-1956 on. He arrived with Jack Clement and Billy Lee Riley that summer, going on to play the blazing double-whammy solo on Riley’s “Flyin’ Saucers Rock ‘n’ Roll.” But it was, really, with Jerry Lee Lewis’s arrival at the tag end of the year that he would cement his place in rock & roll history. How many times have you heard Jerry Lee’s exuberant shout, “Ro’ Boy,” as he exhorts the otherwise nameless guitarist to take yet another perfectly conceived, perfectly concise solo? It’s for his musicianship most of all, of course (along with his own short-lived but influential Rita label and his Sonic Recording Studio, one of the principal progenitors of the Memphis garage-band explosion of the '60s), that Roland was named to the Memphis Music Hall of Fame just last month.

But forget that. I mean, don’t forget the music—don’t ever forget the music. But forget the brilliant solos, and forget the accolades (as Roland said about fame, “I never really cared about any of that”) if you want to try to understand the spirit of the man.

Anyone who stopped by the studio, I don’t care for how long, could not miss that spirit. He was such a kind man. He was such a smart man. He was such a decent and committed man—and by “committed” I don’t mean to suggest anything like the quality that politicians often cite when referring to their own inflexibility. I mean, he was committed in the same way that Sam Phillips proved himself to be over and over again in the studio, committed to bringing out the best in you, committed to exploring the you of you, whoever you were, however you presented yourself, however sophisticated or unsophisticated your tastes. Not that Roland was above kidding around with you. Sometimes after a particularly bad pun, Roland might simply engage you with a quizzical look, as if to say, I hope you got that, it wasn’t really that hard. But mostly he was in the business of encouraging you to be the best “you” you could possibly be.

I’m not sure when I first met Roland—it must have been over thirty years ago—in the studio, of course—but there was no end to our meetings and, given Roland’s nature, I’m sure there will be no end. I remember when we were recording the Charlie Rich album, Pictures and Paintings, in 1991, it was Roland, who was second engineer on the session, who was, really, the key to its success. It wasn’t that Charlie didn’t have a lot to say; as Sam Phillips always said, it was almost as if he had too much to say, but given his deeply introspective nature too often it stayed bottled up inside. It was hard for Charlie—he had an intrinsic fear of letting go (he would tell you it was “anxiety panic disorder”), but even though Sam’s sons, Knox and Jerry, were present most of the time, and Scott Billington did a wonderfully sympathetic job of producing, it was only Roland who had the capacity to make Charlie feel—I’m not going to say at ease, but at home. And not just because they were old friends and colleagues. And not because of anything special that Roland said. It was just—Roland.




Roland Janes (center) with Jerry Lee Lewis (right)

Just like Sam, whom he thought the world of (if Roland was everybody else’s mentor, Sam Phillips was his) he was a teacher—without all the big words that Sam used maybe but with the same sure sense of purpose. Every year his Christmas story provided an illuminating lesson. These were not conventional Christmas greetings—they were not just the usual well-intentioned summaries of family events over the last calendar year. They were more like real-life short stories with a strong moral underpinning. One of my favorites was 2011’s “House of Broken Dreams,” which began “In my younger days I fancied myself to be a fine guitar player and singer” and then went on to paint a picture of the pawnshop owner who had given him a boost back in those early days. With another aspiring young musician, Roland (or the unnamed protagonist) had rented a room over the pawnshop, which was called “The House of Broken Dreams.” As Roland tells it, the name was something of a misnomer, if only because of the kindness of its owner, Mr. Oscar, a Holocaust survivor. Well, I’m not going to tell you the whole story, it’s more of a meditation, really, but it led Roland to his usual Christmas conclusion: “Let me wish a Merry Christmas to one and all—and to all A GREAT LIFE.”

We shot video interviews for the enhanced digital editions of my books in the studio this past spring. One of the highlights was a conversation with Roland—not an interview exactly, the intention was always conversation. But as we were talking about Jerry Lee Lewis, whom Roland has always cherished not just for his genius but for his fundamentally good-hearted character, Roland evidently decided it was time to turn the tables on me. If this was really a conversation, then he wanted to ask me some questions, too. “Well, how’d you get started, Peter?” he said. “How did you first get into this music?” And while we were at it, he wondered how I had come to write my first book. He imagined I must get quite a bit of satisfaction out of the writing, he said. And then we started talking about the satisfactions to be derived not just from writing or music but from any form of creative engagement.

The last conversation I had with Roland, when he first got sick last month, he wanted to know how the video project was going. I told him it was going great—it was really fun to work with my son, Jake, and Memphis writer and filmmaker Robert Gordon, and it was always great to work on any project with him. “So you feel good about it, Peter?” he said. I told him that I did. “That’s good,” Roland said. “That’s good.”



ROCKMAN

ALBUM BY ALBUM - Nils Lofgren ------------- UNCUT 199 December 2013



ROCKMAN

UNCUT 199 --- December 2013



ROCKMAN

I adore that picture of Keith. And I'd totally forgotten about Keith Don't Go! Good old Nils.

Thanks for updating this marvelous thread, Rockman.
BTW - got me a new icecube maker today

That is quite something, RobberBride. Amazes me what's out there that's Stones related.

Rave Magazine 1964



HMN