I Asked For Water (She Gave Me Gasoline)

Today’s post is an addendum to my previous offering, Gun Club: Preachin’ the Word, Pt. 1, guestwritten by my buddy, Sean-Michael Yoder. While much of “Preachin'” was focused on the early ’80s LA punk scene, our Q&A dug into the roots of bands like Gun Club. Two of those roots were the blues singers, Tommy Johnson and Howlin’ Wolf.

The Wolf, of course, is one of the anchors of rock music, his Chess recordings profoundly influencing everyone from The Rolling Stones to Captain Beefheart to Jack O’Fire (don’t worry, I’ll explain later). Johnson is more obscure, but his influence on both Wolf and other musicians has been equally profound, if not as widely disseminated. So, let’s use a pair of related songs to walk through a winding, funky corridor of American music.

Tommy Johnson – Cool Drink Of Water Blues
Recorded February 3, 1928
Amazon
http://youtu.be/o808EmOukDQ

Tommy Johnson – vocals, guitar
Papa Charlie McCoy – lead guitar

Tommy Johnson is a mysterious, though critical figure in the development of the delta blues. He spent most of his life based in Crystal Springs, Mississippi, and was, like so many musicians of that era, a sharecropper who picked guitar because sharecropping was a hardass job — and not just because of the, you know, institutionalized segregation. Honestly, I get wiped out washing my car in direct sunlight for 30 minutes. Can you imagine picking cotton for 9-10 hours in the dead heat of a Mississippi summer for 5 cents a day??? Lots of people with the “fuck that” face right now.

Johnson, also like many musicians of that era, learned at the feet of Charley Patton and his longtime guitar foil, Willie Brown. Patton is regarded correctly as “The Father of the Delta Blues” because in the 19-teens and 1920s he was basically artist-in-residence at Dockery Plantation, ground zero for delta blues, and where he mentored pretty much every Mississippi bluesman. To that end, Tommy is one of the vital links between Patton and Robert Johnson (no relation), arguably the two most important pre-WWII blues musicians.

 

Tommy Johnson was a capable guitar player, but he didn’t have the heavy drive of a Patton or nimble fingers of a Robert Johnson. Really, Papa Charlie McCoy is the guitar hero here, with subtle single-string picking that sounds like a mandolin. You can hear this technique at the start of the second verse, just after Johnson sings, “Cried, Lord I wonder will I ever get back home?”

No, Tommy Johnson’s reputation and influence rests upon his brilliant singing. Where Patton, like Son House, had the gruff, stentorian voice of an Old Testament God, Tommy’s voice ranged from a low rumble to a light tenor that could float up into gorgeous falsetto yodels. You can hear this distinctive vocal style via black contemporaries like Robert Johnson and Howlin’ Wolf and much later via white musicians like Jeffrey Lee Pierce and Lucinda Williams (who we’ll get to in a bit).

Of course, there was a white singer concurrent with Johnson and the two men likely influenced each other. Keep in mind this was the late ’20s, when interracial co-mingling wasn’t exactly the coin of the realm, especially in the deep south. But then again, Jimmie Rodgers wasn’t your typical musician. Says music historian Barry Mazor:

“Jimmie Rodgers undoubtedly spent plenty of time around Jackson (MS) during the very period when Tommy Johnson was a local celebrity. It is even possible to coordinate their appearance calendars to find some known weeks when they were both in town. What seems to have finally nailed the connection, however, is a recording Tommy Johnson made for Paramount in 1929, which was not issued at the time but surfaced in a 2001 test pressing. ‘I Want Someone To Love Me’ proves to be a Jimmie Rodgers-style ballad with 1890’s (Victorian) sentimental overtones — and Johnson’s moan, in this case, does turn into an outright yodel. Musically, at least, we have contact.”
–Barry Mazor, Meeting Jimmie Rodgers, 2009, p. 54

Tommy Johnson – I Want Someone To Love Me
Recorded 1929
Amazon

Tommy Johnson – vocals, guitar

Barry is spot on. Johnson may as well be covering a Rodgers song. In fact, though Jimmie was known as “The Blue Yodeler,” it was a nickname that could’ve easily applied to Johnson. Country blues, bluesy country, in the hands of both these musicians it’s difficult to discern a difference. To wit:

Jimmie Rodgers – The Brakeman’s Blues
Recorded February 14, 1928
Amazon

Jimmie Rodgers – vocals, guitar

Rodgers is known as “The Father of Country Music,” but there are people — me and Dave Alvin, for instance — who are as apt to call him “The Father of White Blues.” His use of the familiar AAB song form, the way Rodgers slurs his vocals around the beat, and if Tommy Johnson maybe borrowed a yodel or two from JR, that influence could cut both ways. For example, “Brakeman” features the following line: “I went to the depot and I looked up on the board.” If that sounds familiar it’s probably because Tommy Johnson sang the exact same line on “Cool Drink Of Water Blues.”

To tie a bow on the common ground between Rodgers and Johnson consider this. The man who kickstarted Jimmie’s career was Ralph Peer, legendary talent scout, field recorder, A&R man (years before that job title existed), and producer/engineer. It was Peer who ran the board for the “Brakeman’s Blues” recording session on Valentine’s Day 1928. As coincidence would have it, though, 11 days earlier Peer was in Memphis to cut a black blues singer for Victor. The resulting single was probably the most definitive release of that musician’s career. The singer and song? Tommy Johnson, “Cool Drink Of Water Blues.”

Incidentally, it’s relevant to this discussion that Mazor’s follow-up to Meeting Jimmie Rodgers is coming out on November 1. Its title? Ralph Peer and the Making of Popular Roots Music. And now, let’s get Wolfed.

Howlin’ Wolf – I Asked for Water (She Brought Me Gasoline)
Recorded July 19, 1956
Amazon

Howlin’ Wolf – vocals, harmonica
Otis Spann & Hosea Lee Kennard – piano
Willie Johnson & Otis “Big Smokey” Smothers – guitar
Willie Dixon – bass
Earl Phillips – drums

Howlin’ Wolf was from the generation after Charley Patton and Tommy Johnson, but like TJ, the man born Chester Burnett was a sharecropper who went to Dockery Plantation to learn blues from the master. Before the war, Burnett played fish fries and house parties and even toured the south with Robert Johnson and his brother-in-law, Sonny Boy Williamson. But, it was after the war that his career took off. By then he was “The Howlin’ Wolf” based in West Memphis, and in 1951 started cutting sides with Sam Phillips and Ike Turner.

Wolf moved to Chicago in 1952 when Chess signed him to a contract and it was 4 years later that he recorded “I Asked For Water.” In many ways, it’s the history of blues songwriting writ small. Wolf used lines and images that had been in the blues for years to reframe the familiar and make the song his own. For example, the first verse of “I Asked For Water” more or less mirrors the first verse of “Cool Drink Of Water Blues.”

 

Howlin’ Wolf (Verse 1):
Whoa, I asked her for water
Oh, she brought me gasoline
Whoa, I asked her for water
Oh, she brought me gasoline
That’s the troublingest woman, ooo-hoo
That I ever seen

Tommy Johnson (Verse 1):
I asked for water and she’d give me gasoline
I’d ask for water, give me gasoline
I asked for water and she’d give me gasoline
Lord, Good Lordy, Lord

As it enters the second verse, “I Asked For Water” echoes, not “Cool Drink Of Water,” but another early bluesman, Blind Lemon Jefferson, and his epic, “See That My Grave Is Kept Clean”.

Howlin’ Wolf (Verse 2):
Whoa, the church bell toning
Oh, the hearse come driving slow
Oh, the church bell toning
Oh, the hearse come driving slow
I hope my baby, oooh
Don’t leave me no more

Blind Lemon Jefferson (Final Verse):
Have you ever heard the church bell tone?
Have you ever heard the church bell tone?
Have you ever heard the church bell tone?
Then you know that the poor boy’s dead and gone

With the third and final verse, Wolf brings it back to Johnson, with one critical difference. Where Wolf wants his girl to come back home because he loves her and, presumably, the gasoline, for Johnson it is HE who wants to get home.

Howlin’ Wolf (Verse 3):
Whoa, tell me baby
Whoa, when are you coming back home?
Whoa, tell me baby
Oh, when are you coming back home?
You know I love you baby, oooh
But, you been gone too long-ooh

Tommy Johnson (Verse 2):
Cried, Lord I wonder will I ever get back home?
Cried, Lord I wonder will I ever get back home?
Lord, Good Lordy, Lord

Given the Johnson bio and his supposed deal with the devil — at the crossroads, natch — it’s tempting to interpret the narrative as Tommy wanting to return to a “normal” existence and leave the itinerant musician life behind. Maybe it’s a ghost train and maybe the train is a metaphor for riding into Hell. However, I think it’s just the story of a guy who chased a girl, it didn’t work out, and now he wants to get back home. But hey, whatever floats your interpretive boat.

“I Asked For Water” was Howlin’ Wolf’s last single to go Top 10, peaking at #8 R&B in the fall of 1956. In a strange coincidence, on November 1, as that record was descending the charts, Tommy Johnson died of a heart attack after playing a house party. The world had changed so much in the 28 years since he cut “Cool Drink,” but Howlin’ Wolf introduced his song — or, at least, a verse of his song — to a whole new generation of blues fans, including some who’d help create rock music. Then, 25 years after that, Tommy Johnson and Howlin’ Wolf would be introduced to another generation of rock fans.

Gun Club – Cool Drink Of Water Blues
Fire Of Love, 1981
Amazon

This whole post came about because Yoder and I were riffing on the blues roots of Gun Club last time, specifically Howlin’ Wolf and Tommy Johnson. So, while this is a postscript of sorts to that conversation, I’d say the following exchange also qualifies in that regard. It’s also one of my favorite recent discoveries on the worldwide Googlenet. Ryan Leach is an inspired madman who runs the Bored Out Tumblr page and according to the intro of this Q&A with Dave Alvin, he put together an oral history of Gun Club that he was trying to turn into a book. Not sure if he’s finished the book yet, but his Tumblr is awesome. This excerpt is actually from the first part of a two-part interview with Dave Alvin (Here’s the link to Part 2). Check it, yo.

Ryan Leach: Peter Case told me that you taught Jeffrey finger-picking on guitar and introduced him to a lot of old Paramount blues 78s.

Dave Alvin: Most people had never heard that music before. Jeffrey Lee Pierce was a sponge. Someone wiser than me once said that the old Paramount records — any of the country blues stuff — and white mountain music is music from America, but it’s from a different America. On the one hand it’s familiar music, on the other hand it’s from Mars. When you get past the scratches on those records and you listen to the lyrics, some of those stories are dark. The songs are filled with archetypes.

I think that’s what attracted Jeffrey to those records. We were doing that music in The Blasters a certain way. Jeffrey wasn’t Mississippi John Hurt. What Jeffrey brought was a certain naiveté and joyfulness to the blues. He wasn’t concerned with playing Tommy Johnson’s “Cool Drink of Water” just like Tommy Johnson. He wanted to capture the vibe — which I think he did to a certain extent — of Tommy Johnson’s music. Jeffrey’s version of “Preaching The Blues” sort of captured the edge and mood the original had.

JLP’s 1992 album of mostly blues covers

 

Sometimes when white guys recreate old blues songs, they focus exclusively on technique — this is exactly how Robert Johnson played it. They don’t get the mood. Whereas Jeffrey Lee, because he didn’t have the chops to play Robert Johnson’s music note for note, went for the vibe. That’s the most important thing. If you can get near the vibe, that’s really cool. That’s what The Gun Club did. I’d rather hear that than someone trying to duplicate those early blues records note for note. Jeffrey did get better as a guitarist later on.

RL: You and Phil supported Jeffrey, but I heard that a lot of blues purists from the early ’80s didn’t like what Jeffrey was doing.

DA: Oh yeah. There was a notable party where an incident with Jeffrey occurred. The Blasters had already had some success by then. You’ll have to forgive me — I’ve drank a lot of beers since then — but I want to say the party I’m talking about took place in early ‘82. When did Jeffrey leave for New York?

RL: I believe he moved in the middle of ‘82 to record Miami with Chris Stein (of Blondie). He had hung around New York a little bit in late ‘81 on an East Coast tour.

DA: Early ‘82 sounds right then. What happened at this party was one of the reasons Jeffrey left for New York. It wasn’t entirely the reason, but I think it contributed. There was a party at a blues guy’s house; I’ll leave his name out of it. He was a white blues guy. It was down in Orange County. All The Blasters were there — the guy was a friend of ours — John (Doe) and Exene (Cervenka) were there. And then Jeffrey Lee showed up. Top Jimmy was definitely there — that crowd. There were a lot of white blues traditionalists. That can be defined in a million different ways. I’ll refine it: these were white bar blues guys.

With the blues, it all has to do with philosophy. How you define blues and how you define yourself to this Zen-like calling. Basically, what happened was a lot of alcohol and BBQ were consumed. A fight broke out between the white, bar-band blues guys and Jeffrey. They started beating the fuck out of Jeffrey. My brother Phil and the rest of the Blasters — I have to admit I was extremely drunk that night — stopped the fight. It got really ugly for Jeffrey. He split. He was in Orange County and he somehow got to Tony Adolescent’s house (Tony Cadena). He came back later on, but the party was broken up. I dumped an ashtray into the salad bowl. It had all turned ugly so everybody split.

The issue between Jeffrey and these other blues guys had to do with philosophy and how you approached the blues. They felt that you only played blues the way the people before you played it. Anything else was sacrilege. Jeffrey couldn’t play like B.B. King or Reverend Gary Davis, so why should he try? It could have taken him the rest of his life to get there. None of us could play like Reverend Gary Davis! So what did you want to do?

Phil and I know as much about blues — possibly even more — than a lot of the purists out there. It’s the spirit that’s important. In the long run — I won’t say he’s won out — but I certainly feel Jeffrey proved his point with his music. When I first heard the records Fat Possum was releasing, like Junior Kimbrough, I thought, “Oh, that sounds like The Gun Club.” [Laughs] The White Stripes, too. Jeffrey opened up some people’s eyes to the vibe and beauty of the blues. A lot of blues purists don’t like Bob Dylan, but to me Bob Dylan’s maybe the best white blues singer.

This interview is incredibly revealing for multiple reasons. Two things are addressed that I find continually fascinating — and frustrating. One is the mysterious alchemy that is the folk process. That is, how the fuck does an El Monte boy like Jeffrey Lee Pierce get turned onto an obscure Mississippi bluesman like Tommy Johnson? Because guys like Phil and Dave Alvin are avid record collectors and proselytizers of the American music faith. “Listen to this, listen to this, don’t listen to that, pay attention to our covers.”

For a SoCal suburbanite — and I’m speaking of myself as much as Pierce — coming of age in the late 20th century, this is how the folk process works. We’re not TVA employees trading songs on our back porch in the Appalachians. That would be poser bullshit. We learned from records, books and magazines, and occasionally something on TV. Mainly, we learned by paying attention to those smarter and more learned than ourselves. Not that that equation has changed that much, but with the arrival of the internet everyone thinks they’re a fucking genius. Trust me, you’re probably not a genius, though if you’re smart you’ll recognize the advantage of living in the 21st century relative to the accessibility of information. But, nothing beats a Dave Alvin learning your ass on what’s what.

The other thing that sticks out is the pinheaded idea that music has to be played a certain way. Yes, being in tune is usually better than not being in tune, but not always. And knowing your way around the fretboard so you can then break the rules makes a certain intuitive sense. But not always. Knowing some theory is never a bad thing, but enthusiasm and blind naiveté is OK, too. So fucking what if Pierce interpreted the blues in a way that wasn’t according to Hoyle correct? Yes, a great player is a great player, but sometimes good players recontextualizing the familiar is better than quote-unquote greatness.

Lots of musicians are technically more proficient the the guys in Gun Club, or Thelonious Monster, or The Replacements, but I keep coming back to these bands because their music was original and came from the heart. Occasionally you get musicians who bring it all together, like X and The Blasters, but it’s so rare to find that combo of chops, balls, and heart. At least if you have balls and heart maybe you can pick up some chops along the way.

Lucinda Williams – I Asked For Water
Lucinda Williams, 1988
Amazon
http://youtu.be/2fR5Us5pK6U

Lucinda Williams – vocals, acoustic guitar
Gurf Morlix – electric guitar
Juke Logan – harmonica
Donald Lindley – kick drum

I have to admit, I used to be a much bigger Lucinda Williams fan. I think her voice has gotten a little worse for wear and her songwriting doesn’t move me the way it used to. But, her self-titled album from 1988 still hits my sweet spot. Her voice has never been better, the lyrics are heartfelt and heartbroken, and the music is a perfect blend of country, folk, blues, and rock ‘n’ roll. It’s like she perfectly captured the sound of a hot, swooning Saturday night at the Continental Club in Austin. In fact, I always loved that in the liner notes to the 1998 Koch reissue, she said that “Big Red Sun Blues” was written with the Sir Douglas Quintet in mind.

“I Asked For Water” ends the original version of Lucinda Williams and while it’s credited to Chester Burnett and the arrangement is loosely based on his 1956 single, the lyrics are directly from “Cool Drink Of Water Blues” (verses 1, 3, 5, and back to 1). And as I intimated in the “Preachin’ The Word, Pt. 1” Q&A, Lucinda’s falsetto yodel is way closer to Tommy Johnson than it is Howlin’ Wolf. “I Asked For Water” also harkens back to her 1979 debut, originally released as Ramblin’ On My Mind, but eventually reissued as just Ramblin’. That record featured all covers and mostly blues songs. However, the main difference between Lu in 1979 and Lu in 1988 was her self-assurance in the late ’80s. As she said in the PledgeMusic drive to fund her re-reissue of Lucinda Williams, “It was the first record where I truly found myself. Or, at least, figured out what it is I do. And it has shaped me as an artist from that year forward.” So, when I say above that if you have balls and heart maybe you can pick up chops along the way, this is what I mean. OK, if you wanna substitute “ovaries” for “balls,” fine. But, the point stands. THIS Lucinda Williams was carrying on the folk tradition of keeping old songs alive for a new audience and doing so at the top of her game.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Gurf Morlix, whose name may sound like he’s a Dungeons & Dragons porn star, but was Lu’s bandleader for about a decade (1985-96). He was also the album’s producer and played electric and acoustic guitar, mandolin, dobro, pedal steel, lap steel, six-string bass, and sang harmony. On “I Asked For Water,” Williams sings and picks an acoustic guitar, Donald Lindley thumps his kick drum on the one and three, and Morlix plays understated electric guitar leads that counterpoint the harmonica wail of Juke Logan. It’s a full sound, but there’s really not that many moving parts. And I like how someone — probably Morlix — is grunting and/or mumbling throughout. It’s the kind of “flaw” that would drive a pro-gear, pro-attitude producer nuts (coughcoughJimmyIovinecoughcough) and he’d probably have the band recut the tune 47 times, thus killing the magic. Morlix kept it in because that shit don’t matter when you’re capturing a vibe. Didn’t Dave Alvin already cover this? “(Vibe) is the most important thing. If you can get near the vibe, that’s really cool.” Learn it, know it, live it.

Jeffrey Lee Pierce – I Asked For Water
VPRO studio, Hilversum, Netherlands
December 3, 1989

Jeffrey Lee Pierce – vocals, guitar
Kim Snelten – harmonica

“Jeffrey was a concept guy. Whatever his limitations were as a vocalist and as a guitarist didn’t really matter because his concepts were so big — he made it work.”
–Dave Alvin from that same Bored Out interview above

“If there’s anything I hate, it’s ’70s and ’80s blues records. I wanted to make this record listenable for people who listen to the real records, too. We put the guitar up too loud and took the bass drum off the mix, so we got this really crude sound. What’s even worse than that is it’s out of tune! I kind of enjoyed that. I thought we were going maybe too far there, so I went back and re-recorded the guitar in tune and it sounded really dull in comparison.”
–Jeffrey Lee Pierce

Here’s kind of a fun fact. The re-reissue of Lucinda Williams alluded to above differs from the 1998 Koch reissue in that it also includes a Williams show from 1989. That gig was 6 1/2 months prior to and about an hour south of this Jeffrey Lee performance at VPRO Studios in the Netherlands. Kind of interesting that 2 artists, at that time both based in Los Angeles, connected through a shared love of Tommy Johnson and Howlin’ Wolf, and doing a double Dutch half a world away. Again, that’s the folk process at work. This performance is actually available on the obscure (and therefore pricey) box set, The Life And Times Of Jeffrey Lee Pierce And The Gun Club (2008), which combines obscure studio tracks with live stuff and radio performances.

Jack O’Fire – Asked For Water
Bring Me The Head Of Jon Spencer, 1992
The Destruction Of Squaresville, 1994
Amazon

Walter Daniels – vocals, harp
Tim Kerr – guitar
Dean Gunderson – standup bass
Joshua LaRue – drums

“From the late ’50s to the early ’60s, music for many was the weapon of choice aiming straight for the square’s heart. It was top priority! Across the board, jazz, soul, ska, rockabilly, country, hillbilly, rock ‘n’ roll, and rhythm and blues seemed to be more about bustin’ out, setting one’s soul free with an urgency for change from the shuffle zombie existence that was the norm of squaresville at that time. We thought the teachings of The Young Lions were coming to light in the late ’70s to early ’80s, but for a small handful this movement has now gone the same tired route as its predecessors.”
–Big Daddy Soul fromthe Six Super Shock Soul Songs (1993) insert

I finish with my favorite cover of the Howlin’ Wolf classic. Jack O’Fire was a punk-blues force of nature who only lasted from about 1992-95, but I was lucky enough to see them twice. In May 1994, they played Fallout Records in Seattle (RIP), then — and forgive me if I have this backwards, this was a lot of braincells ago — that night they traveled up to Bellingham for Estrus Records‘ great garage/punk festival, Garage Shock [check out Coop‘s killer poster from that year]. Then, the following night they came back to Seattle to play the spinoff mini-fest, Crock Shock, at the old Crocodile Cafe (hence the name). Those shows could’ve been reversed, which makes more logistical sense, but I remember the Seattle appearances separated by a day.

I got turned onto JOF by my Chico homeboy, Sean McGowan, who was living in Austin at the time and fronting a badass punk band called The Chumps. He raved up and down about Jack O’Fire and noted that one of his photos appeared on the cover of their then-new CD, The Destruction Of Squaresville. He was right on both counts. The pic (of Walter Daniels) made the cover and on stage those ATX motherfuckers came for scalps. It wasn’t just that they were breathing life into old blues songs, they were breathing life into EVERYTHING! Howlin’ Wolf, Little Walter, The Sonics, Joy Division, it all came with pronounced centrifugal force.

 
Daniels stalked the stage, attacking his harmonica like he attacked his vocals. Tim Kerr was all spinning dreadlocks and slashing guitars. The rhythm section was some tall white dude on bass (who I later discovered was the guy from Cat Butt) and a drummer holding the cacophony together by the skin of his traps. I hadn’t heard the Fat Possum dudes yet, so I didn’t know there was some righteous blues drone taking place on Mississippi home turf. I also didn’t know about Lester Butler (RIP) and The Red Devils. So, 1994 me was stoked that these punks were making the blues sound fresh and exciting again.

Squaresville was put out by Estrus right around the time of Garage/Crock Shock, which is why the band was in Bellingham and Seattle. The album is actually an compilation of 2 10″ records and 2 7″ singles. The Bring Me The Head Of Jon Spencer 7″ on Undone (1992) was the record from which “Water” comes and the first JOF release. The Clothes Make The Man 7″ and Six Super Shock Soul Songs 10″ (both 1993) followed shortly thereafter, both releases issued by Estrus. (BTW, you may remember Clothes Make The Man as the 7″ with Howlin’ Wolf on the cover that I included in “Preachin’ The Word, Pt. 1.”) Finally, the Hot Rod Songs For The Soul Riot 10″ was released in 1993 on 00 Records, and 4 of its 6 songs appeared on Squaresville.

I love that 64 years separates the release of Tommy Johnson’s “Cool Drink Of Water Blues” and Jack O’Fire’s recording of “Asked For Water.” Who could’ve foreseen that a song likely written in the 19-teens and finally committed to shellac in the late ’20s would still find currency in the final decade of the 20th century. Great ideas should last at least that long and God knows I wish some young band was working up a totally fresh, reinvigorated version of “Cool Drink” or “I Asked For Water” right now. But, if nothing this is a look at how any good song can stay alive in the public domain.

I went to the depot
Looked upon the board
I looked all over
How long has this eastbound train been gone?