North Magnolia Music Company: Bobby Little

presents

Bobby Little
featuring The Counts of Rhythm

The first time I saw Bobby Little play was at a club in Oxford, MS. I remember the band included Johnny Billington on guitar, Bobby on drums, and Chris Nesmith on bass. I believe it was the winter of 1989. The club was packed and the band was really groovin'. I knew immediately that I wanted to play in that band. The bass player lived in Oxford and would drive to Clarksdale, MS to practice and gig because both Bobby and Mr. Johnny lived in Clarksdale. To make a long story short, I talked with Chris and he set up an audition. They liked what I was doing on the harmonica and hired me. Bobby and I haved played together on and off for over 5 years. This album is my attempt to capture Bobby's sound on drums and vocals. For this project I enlisted the help of my current bandmates Sean Costello (guitar) and Carl Shankle (bass).

Also from Memphis, TN Al Rollog came into the studio to help fill out the rhythm section. I recorded Bobby's drums, vocals, and piano down in Oxford, MS at the Zombie Birdhouse Studios (home to many Fat Possum sessions). Bruce Watson engineered. Then the rest of the band was recorded at Rockingchair Studios in Memphis, TN. Alan Mullins engineered. This is the blues album I always wanted to record with Bobby. I'm very pleased with the results and am sure you will be too.

-Bill Gibson
January 1996

THE DRUMMER IS THE KEY

(Living Blues article from issue No. 96 March/April 1991.
The Beat Behind The Blues)

by Chris Nesmith and Ken Woodmansee

Ronald Bluster, better know as Bobby Little, has followed a path unfamiliar to the majority of blues performers. Instead of leaving his rural roots behind for the big city, like so many artists, Little did just the

opposite. He began his musical career in the Bay Area of California, singing doo wop, then migrated to Chicago's vibrant West Side where his musical direction took shape, and eventually settled in the cradle of the Delta- Clarksdale, Mississippi- where he has begun performing once again.

In between his travels, Little developed his drumming craft under the guidance of Fred Below and Odie Payne and set the beat for bluesmen Earl Hooker, Jimmy Johnson, A.C. Reed, and a host of others. He also adopted a new name at the suggestion of Magic Sam.

Besides mastering the drums, Little also learned another facet of the music business during his years on the road. He began dabbling in radio broadcasting in the late '60s in Mississippi after his fellow bandmates decided to disband and head back North. When the F.C.C passed laws requiring radio stations to hire black employees, Little seized the chance to learn more about the industry. It wasn't long before he became a well-known pesonality on several stations throughout the South. More importantly, Little learned the art of promotion while in radio.

Today, Bobby Little combines all these talents to carry on the musical tradition that he loves. He is currently drumming in a blues band, the Clarksdale All-Stars, and is in charge of promotions for Stackhouse Records and the Rooster Blues label in Clarksdale. He still finds time to spin records three nights a week at local clubs and even books and promotes local talent throughout the South. Although he is no longer in the same limelight as his days on the West Side, Little has carved a new niche for himself in the Delta.

Tell me how you got into music.

Shoot, that's a long, long, long, story. It started back before I was teenager. Just started with singin' in the streets in junior high, around the different projects we used to live in, out in the Bay Area of Oakland, and Berkeley,and the San Francisco area. And we used to have little doo-wop groups, we we used to call 'em back in the early '50s. Well, four or five guys would get together and have harmony. Guys like the Clovers was during that time; guys like the Penguins and the Moonglows. We used to try to copy all of them. And then we used to have little calypso groups wher I used to mess around with little bongos and conga drums.

I used to be gettin' licks on the side of my head all the time by my mother when I used to beat on the side of the dishpan with knives and forks and, you know, carrying a little rhythm, That's basically how I got off into it. And my family background, there's a lot of musicians , in gospel. My grandmother was asinger in church; great-great grandfather was a preacher and a singer in church. And even my mother, she was a singer in the choir.

After I come out of the service, we started messing around with more instruments. I used to try to play some instruments when I was in high school. They had me me on instruments I didn't care nothing about. I started out playin', when they had room for me, with that big upright bass. Or if they had room for me on what they called a cello. [Laughs.] Things like violin or accordion. It's been a lot of little instuments in my real young days that we used to have playin'. Coming through the service I used to tinker around the piano a little bit. And going through the service we had the same type of little gatherings like we had coming up, the little doo-wop groups in the N.C.O. clubs. Coming out of service, I got deeply involved, 'cause I got interested in drums.

When I got interested in drums, I got really involved. When I come out of the service I stopped around Chicago, wher my grandmother was, and started messing around with different musicians. I remember putting together my first set of drums.

How did you do that?

There's a place in Chicago, right at 18th and Halsted, used to be a big music store there, wher everybody used to go. I had what we would call a marching drum. One place I found a used tom-tom. Didn't have no head on it so I turned it upside down, used the bottom of it. A floor tom, didn't have no heads on it, so I went and had heads put on it and used it. I got a foot pedal, and a snare, you know, just made it up.

You assembled it together?

Right. Anybody who saw that kind of thing today would think it was a piece of rag on stage. So, we started out on the West Side, around Roosevelt and Hoyne. A place called the Washburne Lounge, I had a guitar player, had a run down guitar, used to play with clamps and things on the guitar. And I only knew one beat and that was [claps a simple rhythm with his hands]. Everything I played had a beat to in it. And a harmonica plaker.

See, we slept in this little loft, and every Friday and Saturday night we'd be up in that little loft, but we had the people packing the place out, and we had'em dancing to our little beat. So, finally, one day, Shakey Jake and Magic Sam, they eased off in there, because all of 'em was living on the West Side and was playing on the West Side. They heard us one day. And they got to talk'in to us, and I always was the type had a gift for gab. But after meeting them and talking to them I started following them around. And Magic Sam was the one that really gave me the name Bobby Little. See, eveybody around Chicago wanted to be Little this and Little that. So, he said,"Well, man, why don't you be Bobby Little." It hung with me.

We used to go around to all the musicians, Freddie King-during that time the West Side of Chicago was wide open with clubs and entertainers. From Mel's Hideaway Lounge, which was at Loomis and Roosevelt- even Little Walter was living there- we had guys that was. . . well, we come up under some heavyweights. Elmore James, Howlin' Wolf, Otis Rush, they was heavy. Jimmy Rogers, oh man, you could just name'em. It was so heavy until we had to learn what they was doin'. Every musician I seen playin drums, I always looked at it like he was learning me somethig. Guys like Fred Below, Odie Payne, Juinor Blackmon, Theodi Morgan, these was outstanding drummers to me. When I go around them, everything that was done, I tried to cop. Fred Below's taken more patience, and more time with me, than any drummer. And so this is why I say, well, Fred Below's really something off a heavy influence an me.

I was discovered by a great guitar player, which was Earl Hooker. He come along and needed a drummer to go on the road with him. And I figured, now if I really want some experience, get me somebody who's out there. So, I travelled with Earl and recorded with Earl. We did a lot of traveling, all over Chicago, South Side, West Side, North Side-all over. This was back in the early '60s, from '61 to about '67 when I went back into broadcasting.

There's a thing called rudiments that a lot of drummers don't know today. You have to know your rudiments, you have to know your time, you have to know your different beats. See, a lot of 'em, they'er just beatin', they'er just following whatever's happening. That's wrong. A drummer is a clock. And this is what was taught to me years ago. A drummer is a clock, a metronome. Earl would take his guitar, when he would kick a number off, he would make a little click, click, click on the guitar that wouldput me in on the clock. And he would love that shuffle thing, that paper-like sound, along with the backbeat. So, if I go wrong, he would come out of what he was doing and do that click thing again. In doing this, I learned that beat. What we used to call the New Orleans backbeat shuffle. What a lot of people just call straight shuffle now. And a lot of 'em don't know what the shuffle is all about or what the shuffle is.

Did Fred Below teach you the shuffle?

Well, Fred Below basically taught me drums.

How long was it from the time you put your first drum set together until Earl Hooker asked you to go on the road with him?

Oh, I'd say about six to seven months.

Is that all? You had already learned enough that Earl Hooker asked you....

Right. See, Earl pulled me out of the loft. And in getting with Earl, this made me start getting more exposure-exposure around Chicago, exposure around more musicians. So, when we brought it on the road, I would be with guys like Jimmy Johnson.
I walked from the West side to the South Side one time , putting together a band . I found Jimmy over there by the White Sox park, by the Dugout. Jimmy was playing guitar and a guy by the name of Bob Walton was playing bass. And another guy around Chicago named Johnny Hi-Fi, I found him a little bit farther on up, going on down South.

He was a Chuck Berry-type guitar player. In this one day, I walked through and found musicians that that we called in to rehearsal. And we all got together. Ended up with Jimmy Johnson, Bobby Fields, Johnny Hi-Fi, and Bob Walton. We played on the South Side at a place called Rock and Roll's, back in the Billy Boy [Arnold] era. That's when we started our group called the Lucky Hearts. And this was the group I would play with when I wasn't on the road with Earl. And we had little things like the Blue Monday party that was going on at the Trocardero. We would always be around those jam sessions, and get recognition. For a whole year,there was a guy that carried our name on the top of his car in Chicago. And we had some pretty good promotional deals. We had guys like Bobby Fields, saxophine, and A.C. Reed, saxophone. Monk Higgins was one of our arrangers. And Jimmy had a brother used to play bass with us named Mac Johnson. We had Ricky Allen-that was one of my first sessions. Bobby Saxton, that was one of the first sessions I ever went into the studio with.

Did the Lucky Hearts ever do any recording?

No, Jimmy did, I didn't do any recording until after the Lucky Hearts broke up. But the Lucky Hearts was responsible for being the first of all the bands around Chicago of having horn sections. We had something like four and five horns back in '60 and '60. I can say we was the first, or one of the first, 'cause the other one was Red Saunders and his group. Red Saunders was one of Chicago's biggest bands. He used to be [at the] Club Delisa. And in the changeover, coming into the rhythm and blues, into the blues field , we was one of the first bands to have horns. We had four and five-piece horn section, and our horn arranger was Monk Higgins, and we had Johnny Miggs on saxophone, we had Erskine Oglesby. He used to be one of Ike Turner's horn players. We had Julius Beasley, baritone. Well, we had a horn section when other people was just going with a rhythm section.

You were playing the blues, right?

Blues, rhythm and blues. Which is the same thing. We did blues, we did some of everything. Anything that came out.

What kind of stuff were you doing?

During that time? Jimmy was singing more B.B. King things. I was doing a lot of Bobby "Blue" Bland's stuff and Brook Benton. We was doing a lot of James Brown's stuff and Little Richard's stuff. We was doing a lot of different groups, because we had a lot of different groups that used to come around us a lot-guys like the Daylighters, the Dutones.

Soul Groups.

Right, right. Soul, rhythm and blues. Well, people termmed it as soul, but it was basically in between blues and rhythm. Well, Ricky Allen was our singer, with Jimmy Johnson. And Ricky Allen recorded with Earl. His first record was recorded with Earl Hooker. Bobby Saxton, he was one of the first material that I recorded with B & Baby label. THis was one of the first studios that I went in, with Bbby Saxton. Little Faith Taylor-She was about ten years old, during that time. We was recording her for B & Baby. And those was some of the first recording sessions I had made in the studio.

B & Baby was owned by Cadillac Baby. He used to have a club. And he had a record Label and a record company, too. He had a club that had a revolving stage. This was on Dearborn and about 42nd and 43rd. It's not ther now, but that was one of the show spots in Chicago at the time.

Where did you tour with Earl Hooker? Did you stick to the Midwest or did you come down South?

We played all over the South. We was all up in Missouri, all into St. Louis, all into Kansas City. We played Chuck Berry's club , the club he has got north of St. Louis. I forget the name of the town now, but it's in between St. Louis and Kansas City. The club where he's got a swimming pool in the shape of his guitar. This was years ago. We played Kansas City . We played on 12th and Vine. We played a place called the Black Orchid, one of the show spots in Kansas City at that time. Earl had a lot a people in Kansas City at the time; he had a lot of people every where we went. See, Earl was out there before I come out of the service. Earl had been out there, in the limelights. He was recognized with peole like T-Bone Walker, and B. B. King in his young days. And when I got out there, he was right at his peak. He was one of the guitar players that's really not recognized as much as he need to be recognized. And it's bad that he's not living now to see what's happening. But, I guess that the way it goes.

A.C. Reed's first tune was recorded with Earl Hooker's band. A.C. Reed used to be one of us. Big Moose Walker used to be one of us. Keyboard man, Pinetop Perkins, used to be one of us. One of the Roadmasters and the Soul Twisters, B.B. Odem, he ussed to be one of us. Matter of fact, he got with us when we come down South into Sikeston, Missouri, and Hayti, Missouri, and Blythebille, Arkansas, and Caruthersville, Missouri. And Osceola. See, we used to play all these areas down there. I meet Robert Nighthawk at the time we was playing Paducah, Kentucky, and Cairo, Illinois. We played all into Waterloo, Iowa, and St. Paul, Minnesota; Kenosha, Wisconsin. And, well, we was just a touring band. And every place we played, we wasn't what you'd say a top-billing name, but we just had a strong-getting band. And It wasn't like it is now, to where you have to have all the top billing. See, Earl was just so, so good with that guitar, man, until it made people would just come from everywhere. I remember a National Guard Armory we played one time. We had to catch a ferry from Caruthersville and go over into Hopkins, Kentucky. And when we got to the National Gaurd Armory over there, it was pouring down rain. And we thought the gig was gonna be rained out. Everybody was sort of down hearted. We got set up, got tuned up, and kicked off. People started coming from everywhere, in there boots up to there knees, raincoats and everything. And we filled the National Gaurd Armory up. And, well, like I say wasn't a whole lot of money we made-we was just surviving and moving. It was a more family with bands then.

We went to places like St. Loius. That's where I wrote my song, going from St.Louis to Evansville, Indiana. That's where I wrote You Can Run But You Can't Hide and I Won't Be Down Long-in the car. We was traveling to Evansville. When we got to Evansville we played it on the stage. On the stage we got it together, and when we got to Chicago we recorded it. We didn't have the promotion it was supposed to have on it. Now it's a different thing. If I'd known then what I know now, about the music field, I'd be a superstar. [Laughs.]

You got into broadcasting in the late '60s. Why did you decide to do that? Was it better money?

No, it wasn't the money, it was a gig. We come to Mississippi to play the V.F.W. in Greenville. During this time Ricky had a record out, A.C. Reed had a record out, Earl had a couple of tunes out and we had something to go on. And we come into Greenville to play this gig. We played the gig in Greenville and we was supposed to go on from there to Vernon, Florida. We called ahead and when we called ahead Buddy Mayes told us there was a hurricane that was coming in on the coast and for us to hold up where we was at. We'd play that job later. So, we did just that. In the mean time, we played around Greenville, and on in and over different places. And the rest of the band decided to go back.

I was talking to one of the top deejays in the Delta-his name was Rockin' Ed about, if I stayed down there, would he teach me how to be a broadcaster. So, his statement was, "Sure, man." So, I stayed.

I know I won't be making no money. [But] I do know how to take pictures because that was another little side thing that I use to do-jump off the stage and snap pictures. I used to take pictures for five dollars a picture for the different clubs. So, I said, "Man, I gotta have something else to do." I told him ,said, "Well, man, what about some different equipment to do some record hops." He said,"I got all the equipment you need." And he did. I messed around between Greenville, Cleveland, Indianola, all in the Delta, and did record hops. Bought me a little station wagon, and I bought me some more equipment, even trained some more dudes how to do it. So now, while he's training me, from Sept '67 to the April Dr. Martin Luther King got killed, I was in training. The owner of the station told me that I was sounding good and if I go to New Orleans and take my test , and pass my test, when I came back, I had a job. So I went to New Orleans, checked into a motel, studied the test, got up, and went to the F.C.C. I passed my test, called back to Greenville, told him I had passed it. He said,"Well you got a job."

Now, I got hired at the radio station the day that Dr. Martin Luther King got killed. The station is still on the air. It's WESY, owned by Bill Jackson now. Him and Rockin' Ed was my teachers. Then It opened up for me. All the way. I was considered one of the top jocks from 1967 up until I got out of it and went into this promotional thing about '82 or '83. I opened up WDLT-FM in Cleveland, Mississippi. I opened up WYAZ out of Yazoo City for Joel Netherland. And we went from there.

You didn't play drums during that time?

No. the only drums I did during the time I was in broadcasting was when I was doing some sessions behind people like Sly Johnson. Somebody needed a drummer to sit in, or something , on a festival. But, as far as playing gigs, no. I promoted some of the heavyweights in the record world. From Sly Johnson all the way to the Staple Singers. And everything in between. All majors; I never had messed with the locals too much. I'm getting so now. I'm more involved with the local stuff now than I have ever been.

When did you start playing drums again seriously?

This year [1990]. When the Clarksdale All-Stars got together.

How difficult was it for you?

It wasn't. And I proved that to myself. I thought it was gonna be difficult-rudiments and time. See, my age is not young. I'm 52, and I thought that would keep me back as far as keeping time. But I found out since I have been doing it, the whole time that I was brodcasting, my feet and everything was still in time with the music. My ear was still tuned in with the different things that was going on, and tuned in to what we are doing now. I'm not into the rap and what they call fusion jazz.

What would you say is the difference in terms of drums between jazz, blues, and rhythm and blues?

With jazz-real jazz-there is no difference between blues and real jazz. Fusion jazz is just a name. Jazz is creative. But you are still playing those same beats. You still got four-count beats in jazz, got three-fourth, got six- eighths, whichever. Cannonball Adderley that was in the syncopated six-eight timing, or three-four timing, or what a lot of people call waltz-timing. It gives you room to put what you feel into it. Blues and gospel-because all of it formulates from the same thing-runs closer to where you have to be with the four-count beats and stay within that frame. But jazz you can go anywhere you want to go, and you can scat anywhere you want to scat as long as you stay within that time area.

How would you say that drums have contributed to the evolution of blues,the way the electric guitar and electric bass changed it?

Drums is the backbeat of it-is the backbeat of any band. And, well, going back from the Depression and way back, there was drum sets. There was drummers. but they was in what you call jazz bands. And Dixieland bands. It was just the sounds that was created trough the recordings. Look at the Delta blues sound. [Before], One instrument was the Delta blues sound. The rawness of it. But now, the sound is your drums, your bass, and your guitar. Your rhythm section, tight rhythm. If you got that sound kickin' out at 'em, you got a punching sound. When they hear that, the first thing they say is "Oh, yeah, that's the Delta sound." But that derives from Motown and Muscle Shoals. Muscle Shoals has all that full, bassy sound. What's happening now, they're searching for it. But it takes a good A&R man to know what he looking for. You can make a Delta blues sound in California, if you got an A&R man that knows what he's lookin' for. Well, we had one then [with EarlHooker]. But every A&R man that was in the control studio wanted to put the bass in the background, put the drum in the background, and feature out whatever he wanted to feature out. Guitar taken the place of pianos and horns. Taken the lead away from that keyboard. Keyboard used to be the lead. And when B.B. started making, and T-Bone Walker started screaming that guitar, they started to put that into the lead feature.

That different sound, did that affect the way a drummer might play?

No, no, because, see, that's the reason I tell a lot of people I likes to play by time, because I was taught that. I was taught that the drummer is the key. Your heart it's the drum beat of your body. If that drum-your heart- stop, that drum beat gonna stop. [Laughs.] That's the only way I can some that up. Your heart keeps doing this [snaps fingers], keeps poppin', that drum keeps poppin', that's the clock of the whole thing. You let that drum fall out everything gonna peter out. No, it didn't change nothing. It just enhanced things a little bit more.

How would you describe your style when you play?

With the right set up and the right rehearsal, and the band like I'm in right now, I'd say in about four to five months from now we'd have one of the best Delta blues sound of anybody you wanna listen to. That's how I would describe it. I'm not taken nothing away from no other drummer; I think there's some good drummers. I can name you a superstar drummer, in my eyesight, he's a young guy by the name of Calep Emphrey, he's with B.B. He's a very good drummer. There's a lot more, but we doing with the group I'm in right now, the Clarksdale All-Stars, give us about five months we'll have one of the best Delta blues sounds that you want to hear. Now I'm not talking about raw, now, because there is a difference between raw and having a good, tight, organized band.

See, my teachers, I got to give credit to Fred Below , Odie Payne, Earl Hooker. They was guys that always stressed-and anybody out there that's still playing, still living, will say the same thing- they always stressed a pushing sound. By pushing, I don't mean loud, but steady having that beat there on top of it. And accenting. You don't have to be no fancy drummer. Now I know some real tuff drummers that will do acrobat tricks with there sticks, and all that stuff and don't miss a beat. But all that's not necessary. All that rolling and all that stuff is not necessary, 'cause the singer can not sing when you on top of him rollin', or when you on top of him playing loud as you can.

What do you do when it comes time for your solo? When the singer stops singing? You don't have anywhere else to go.

That's right, you done did it all on top of the singer. So, if you exercise when it comes time for you to exercise, it will sound better to the audience and it will push the singer more if you just chord him while he's singin'. Okay, when he gets through singing and give you your break for your solo, and you put what ever dynamite thing you gonna put into it, and come out of it, go back to doing that [strums], and the audience will applaude you.

Your role is more to compliment the singer?

You got to, you got to. the whole band have to. And if you stick to that you find you have more push to your band.

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