Blues Bytes – Slipped Discs – Poetry In Motion 8.10.12
Chip Eagle | Aug 09, 2012 | Comments 10
Slipped Discs
Poetry in Motion
By Rev. Billy C. Wirtz
Heaven please
Send to all mankind,
Understanding and peace in mind,
But if it’s not asking too much,
Please send me someone to love,
Someone to love.
Show the world how to get along,
Peace will enter when hate is gone,
But if it’s not askin’ too much,
Please send me someone to love
I lay awake nights and ponder world trouble
and my answer is always the same,
That unless man put an end
To this damnable sin,
Hate will put the world in a flame,
What a shame
Just becuase
I’m in misery,
I don’t beg for
No sympathy,
But if it’s not asking too much,
Please send me someone to love
Please send me someone to love
And there you have it, the actual lyrics to “Please Send Me Someone To Love” by “The Poet Of The Blues,” Percy Mayfield.
I’m aware that I’m a little “over the top” in my gushing praise of certain artists, however, I dare anyone to challenge the accolades I heap upon Mr. Mayfield.
His songs leave one searching for superlatives.
From every perspective this is classic music and literature that belongs in the same classroom with Langston Hughes, DuBois, and the the Harlem Renaisance writers.
No one in music, blues or otherwise, has ever laid bare his own demons and pain, and yet still retaining a certain detached stoicism like Percy Mayfield.
For you aspiring songwriters, I recommend you buy everything you can by this man, starting with The Poet Of The Blues on Specialty reissue. After you’ve experienced the genius of his lyrics, go back and listen to not only what is said, but the way in which he voices it.
Unlike Patsy Cline or Dorothy Love Coates, Mayfield’s strength lies in understatement.
Most of the songs are delivered in a laconic, world-weary, semi-monotone. This deceptively matter-of-fact, guy-next-to-you-at-the-bar style disguises the most brilliantly-told stories and vignettes ever set to music.
A few highlights from The Poet of the Blues:
“Please Send Me Someone To Love” – Hard to listen to this and not get emotional. If it were only about love, it would pack a wallop, but in 1950, under the guise of unrequited romance, Mayfield slapped the face of Jim Crow, referring to it as “this damnable sin.” By today’s standards, this may not seem impressive, but at the time it was a potential career killer. Despite heated social intimidation and admonitions, both Mayfield and Art Rupe (owner of Specialty Records) refused to change that one line, resulting in the song being banned from airplay. Even other black artists were intimidated by its frankness. When The Moonglows re-recorded it for the Chess Brothers the line was changed to “this horrible sin.” No matter, it went on to sell over a quarter of a million copies.
Unfortunately his predictions of a world in flame came true, and a half-century later, in our era of “voter registration,” it’s still hits home.
“Prayin’ For Your Return” – The singer tells an ex-girlfriend that since she left:
- He has no interest in sex
- His friends have quit coming around, and…
- He’s hopelessly in love and/or slowly slipping into a chronic and increasingly debilitating depression.
It’s not a joke.
“The River’s Invitation” – Once again, lost love.
This time, an itinerant singer travels around the country playing juke joints (no mention of blues cruises) searching for a lost lover. He’s obviously been looking for some time, because by the second verse, he’s seriously considering suicide. After that, it gets dark.
“Louisiana” – A rhumba beat in a minor key that borrows from a “Saint James Infirmary” groove. One of the more optimistic songs about his own life. Mayfield returned to his home of Minden, Louisiana, after living in Los Angeles for several years. For the rest of the story, find a copy “A Stranger In My Home Town.” Elvis dug it enough to re-record it.
“Advice (For Men Only)” – Basically he’s saying, “I got your Dr. Phil right here.”
Wish I’d heard this one before I…never mind.
Fabulous.
“Baby, You’re Rich” – Discusses the effects of time and gravity..
“Life is Suicide” – Percy’s been dumped one more time. Describes in graphic detail how she walks out unexpectedly. Once again, he’s heads to the river to consider his options.
“Loose Lips” – What’s this? A happy song? One of those first-person tribute songs.
Reminds me of “Wind Beneath My Wings,” only slightly earthier. Apparently his significant other is quite skilled at certain types of non-verbal communication. Listen for yourself and decide.
“Lost Love” – Guess what’s happened to Mr. Mayfiield yet again? Who cares, another absolute lyrical masterpiece.
“Get Way Back” – Predates eHarmony by a few years. Percy gets very specific about his boundaries and financial expectations with a potential soulmate.
These are just a few of the classics. Wait till you’ve heard “Memory Pain” or “Me and My Bottle.”
In the hands of a lesser talent, the persistent theme of struggles and failure would become maudlin and predictable, however just as it reaches that point, he steps back and actually laughs at himself (and the rest of us). Mayfield’s world vision is a bleak one. In song after song, we gain control of the table, only to, once again, throw snake eyes.
He’s Sisyphus with a conk.
Please, do yourself a favor and pick up on The Poet Of The Blues.
This isn’t “suggested” listening, it’s “required.”
You’re in for a treat.
No one musically paints the picture or turns a phrase with more eloquence and class than Percy Mayfield.
No one.
Rev. Billy C. Wirtz is a weekly columnist at BluesWax. Each week he finds artists, albums, and music that you should know about. He also plays piano. His radio show, Rev. Billy’s Rhythm Revival, is available in podcast. To hear the latest, go to Rev. Billy C. Wirtz’ page on Facebook and look for the link.
Filed Under: Blues Bytes • BluesWax Weekly • This Week's BluesWax
About the Author:
Beautiful, my good Rev.!
I would add that the stuff he did with Ray Charles’ Tangerine label may by the pinnacle of his career. It’s out of print on CD as is most of that label’s output. Criminal.
I knew this column would get some great hits. I have one of his later RCA albums. The Tangerine product is indeed first rate.
Didn’t know the product was now out-of-print. Criminal indeed.
Word to the wise, if you see any of these, grab ‘em. Thanks Rob.
The Rev rides again! One idea: it would be helpful to know the date of the accident that disfigured PM. He was quite a handsome man before that but I’ve always felt that his own situation made him focus on the morose.
Mr. Porter refers to a terrible auto accident in 1952 that squashed Mr. Mayfield’s chances of becoming a matinee idol. That accident along with just being in “the business” probably did add up to the situation referred to in the next comment.
I almost tagged the story with “just ask Bob Porter.” Yes, Percy is one of those worthy of every superlative I can come up with and more. Thanks as always.
Hey Bob!
One more thing. I was reading the liner notes on a Joe Turner anthology and some of the cuts read:
Produced by Bob Porter.
Is that you? If so, we need to talk. Hell, we need to talk anyway.
I really value your feedback and the icing on the cake that you add to each piece. Thanks again.
Home News Latest CyberSoulMan: Percy Mayfield, One Night Only
CyberSoulMan: Percy Mayfield, One Night Only
Saturday, 13 June 2009 20:33 .
Image
The late, great Percy Mayfield. Courtesy photo.
I lay awake nights and ponder world troubles
And my answer is always the same
That unless men put an end to this damnable sin
Hate will put the world in a flame, what a shame…
Poet Laureate of the Blues, Percy Mayfield from his song “Please Send Me Someone To Love,” Circa 1950
In about 1979, I had backslid into the town of Hayward from where I’d graduated high school some 11 years prior to that. Wandering aimlessly downtown one day, I noticed that the marquee on the Brickhouse nightspot proclaimed, “Percy Mayfield, One Night Only.”
At the time my Blues well didn’t run very deep, but I did know that Percy Mayfield had written a couple of poignant tunes that I was familiar with, one of which was “Hit The Road Jack,” one of many large hits for Papa Ray Charles.
I didn’t even know what Percy looked like. One thing is for sure. My nose was wide open for this man of the Blues. Unbeknownst to me at the time, my life path had already taken a serious detour into Blues territory and this excursion to the Brickhouse was to be one of many.
That evening when I entered the club, the house band was already rockin’. (For the faint of heart and parents of minor children, please be advised that it gets a little kinky, probably in the next paragraph. You have been forewarned and disclaimed!)
Furthermore, CyberSoulChildren, this account is not meant to slander or besmirch the genius of Percy Mayfield. I was there and this is how it went down.
When Percy Mayfield was let out of the crooked booking agents white Cadillac in front of the club, he was very drunk. He also thought he was in Oakland, which, mind you, happens to entertainers who do a lot of one nighters, all the time.
Trouper that he was, Mr. Mayfield sauntered up to the stage, took the microphone and cued the band into a slow Blues. He then sang the following:
“You know I cried last night baby
and I cried the night befo’.
‘said I cried last night baby
and I cried the night befo …
Then to most folk’s astonishment, Percy Mayfield sat down not to far from me. He was done. The band played on and I struck up a conversation with him. Strangely enough, I don’t recall even addressing his abrupt performance. Neither he nor I, or for that matter even the club’s management said anything about it.
At some point a cocaine-addled person of the Brickhouse citizenry offered Percy a toot or three. To my surprise he accepted the offer. I followed them into the bathroom. To my further surprise, I took a couple of snorts myself. (Mind you, I’ve been clean 10 years. If I wasn’t would I be so blatant?)
When the little toot session was over, I noticed Percy about to go back into the club with a dirty nose.
“Percy, you can’t go out there like that,” I said. “Man you are a legend. Clean yourself up for your public.”
“You right, little brother,” he said. “You right.”
In that moment I became his guide for the evening.
We hung together until the club closed at 2 a.m. Blues legend or not, they bum rushed Percy Mayfield and I out of the club before the clock stuck 2:01 a.m.
I thought my guide shift was over. As I bade Mr. Mayfield farewell, he appealed to me solemnly, “Don’t leave me, little brother.”
“You right, man,” I said. “You’re a legend. I can’t leave you.”
I don’t remember much conversation in the two and a half hours I stood in the doorway of the Brickhouse with Percy Mayfield. I remember it getting pretty cold though.
Finally, after 5 a.m., the crooked booking agent in the white Cadillac pulled up and scooped up the Poet Laureate of the Blues, taking him, I imagine to the fify-leven hundred thousandth motel of his career. Percy thanked me as I shook his hand.
I watched the Cadillac carefully navigate down Mission Boulevard. I turned up B Street and headed home in the pre-dawn chill. A pickup truck cruised by at some point. The occupants slowed down to nonchalantly spew the N-word in my direction. The sting of it was deflected by my Karmic Muse.
About a year or so later, I read what was titled “The Last Percy Mayfield Interview” in the Pink Section of the Chronicle. It might’ve been written by Joel Selvin. I do remember that Percy Mayfield was terminally ill during the interview and it was published posthumously. To this day I feel righteously honored and blessed to have been in his presence that night.
One of the most detailed biographies on Percy Mayfield that I found on the web is at the following location: http://home.earthlink.net/~v1tiger/percy.html .
Keep prayin’, keep thinkin’ those kind thoughts.
*****
Great writing about a great man.
I can hear Chip Eagle saying “Wait till Bill sees this one.”
Er, that may be one of the most honest road stories I’ve ever read. Not only did you “out” yourself on your recovery, you told the truth about that night. including your own encounter with those who jumped in the gene pool when the lifeguard was on break.
I am deeply honored to be considered worthy of such a great story. This is not a pretty business and I’m thankful to Chip for running your story unedited. I
Your story hits home on several levels.
-I spent the night in a crummy motel talking with Hank Ballard after a gig in S.C.
-I had a similar encounter to yours with Sunnyland Slim. I took him to a gig in Va., and at his request stayed and watched game shows until the gig.
-I myself have told my life story to more than a few Waffle House employees (most recently last week in Birmingham, Alabama, where the night cook and I called off the names of the cities in “Night Train” by James Brown, which was on the jukebox, to a bewildered twenty-something waitress). That road can be a lonely, lonely place.
-I too, have needed some cosmetic adjustment before returning to the stage.
- I am also on the “Just For Today” plan. Congrats, my brother.
I knew this piece would get some cool comments, but that, my friend is one of the most poignant and well-told stories I’ve ever heard.
Percy would be proud.
Please leave out the partisan politics. The current voter registration debate has nothing to do with back door Jim Crow and everything to do with one man/one vote.
That comment has absoulutely (pun not typo) no disrespect for the timeless art of Mr. Mayfield. Also, check out the still active Mose Allison, a similar artist straddling the line between jazz and blues with brilliant lyrical content and mellow vocals.