If you haven’t seen this yet (it’s been making the rounds for a couple of weeks) all I can say is– wow! It would be hard to imagine such a tune making it on to a Network (or even basic cable) TV show in this post “Just Say No” era. It’s like you can only talk (or sing) about drugs on the tube if you end your story with some sort of moralistic penance. But this Jimmy Carter era observation on rampant drug use, set to swinging, Vegas style music is a great look at a time when things were a lot looser.
Frankie Lee Sims





Frankie Lee Sims was probably born in New Orleans, April 30, 1917. However in the only interview he ever gave, he told Arhoolie Records’ Chris Stachwitz that he was born February 29, 1906. Oddly enough, since 1906 was not a leap year there was no February 29th that year.
Our story is already confusing. Not much is known about Frankie Lee Sims. He gave one interview in his life, there is only one known photograph of him. Anyway, he was raised in East Texas where he picked up the guitar at a young age. His cousin was Sam Lightnin’ Hopkins who would go on to great fame and fortune (see the Jan. posting Lightnin’ Loses His Choppers for a great TV clip of him). Sims made his first records in 1947 for the tiny Blue Bonnet label out of Dallas– Home Again Blues b/w Cross Country Blues and Single Man Blues b/w Don’t Forget Me Baby, both good records but nothing to shit your pants over. They are very rare today and fetch big bucks at auction but I’d say they are for completest only. The second disc is notable for the presence of a steel guitar player whom Frankie claimed was Carl Perkins of Sun Records fame. This however is highly unlikely. Frankie appeared on a couple of discs backing up Smokey Hogg, and on Lightnin’ Hopkins’ Jailhouse Blues on Gold Star. He played a lot of bars and juke joints, put together a band with drummer Mercy Baby (a teenage King Curtis passed through this group briefly before heading to New York and stardom).
In 1953 Sims came to the attention of Johnny Vincent, then working as an A&R man for Specialty Records out in L.A., he recorded Sims in Dallas in two sessions that year from which three singles would be issued. Eventually Specialty would gather up the outtakes and issue an LP in the seventies, and in the nineties a CD. The three Specialty discs are excellent, primitive blues, much like cousin Lightnin’, Sims had a rather loose style and kept to no regular meter.
The first disc– Lucy Mae Blues b/w Don’t Take It Out On Me was a good seller, it was based around the guitar riff that goes back to Tommy Johnson’s Big Road Blues and can be heard on hundreds of blues records. The second disc Yeah! Baby b/w I’m Long Long Gone was a good, solid blues rocker but didn’t sell squat and the third Specialty disc Rhumba My Boogie b/w I’ll Get Along Somehow was the least interesting and nobody bought it. Some of the best material he cut for Specialty didn’t emerge until the LP was released in 1970 such as Married Woman (which the Flamin’ Groovies covered in ’72) and Lucy Mae Blues Part II.
Four years passed. Frankie Lee played his guitar all over west Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi. Johnny Vincent left Specialty and struck out on his own, forming the Ace record company out of Jackson, Mississippi (he’d hit pay dirt recording New Orleans greats like Huey Piano Smith & the Clowns and Frankie Ford, but he always had a soft spot for blues and issued great blues discs into the seventies). Vincent signed Sims, and his first session resulted in the 1957 single issued on Ace What Will Lucy Do? b/w Misery Blues, basically a remake of Lucy Mae Blues, but a remake that is superior to the original, Sims’ had improved immensely as a guitarist in the four years since his last Specialty session, and the addition of drummer Mercy Baby gave his sound more drive. A second session was soon scheduled, this time with two sax players added to the band– Jacquette Brooks and Jack White, and now they were playing full fledged rock’n’roll.
The next disc would be the pinnacle of Frankie Lee Sims’ career– Walkin’ With Frankie b/w Hey Little Girl, the a side is a thundering blues rocker (Barrence Whitfield & the Savages covered it in the eighties) that remains one of my all time favorite discs. While I usually prefer 45’s, Ace mastered their 78’s particularly hot (i.e. loud) and Frankie Lee Sims’ Ace 78’s are some of the best sounding discs I’ve ever heard. At the same session that produced Walkin’ With Frankie, six sides were recorded with drummer Mercy Baby singing and these were issued under Mercy’s Baby’s name, the first– Marked Deck b/w Rock and Roll Baby appeared on Ace in ’57, the second Silly Dilly Woman b/w Mercy Blues was issued by Ace in ’58 and the third and final Mercy Baby record– Pleadin’ b/w Don’t Lie To Me came out on the Ric label two years later (’60). All six Mercy Baby sides are excellent blues rockers, all were highlighted by the guitar playing of Frankie Lee Sims.
Frankie Lee cut a third and final session for Johnny Vincent in Jackson in late ’57, his next single for Vincent, issued on the Vin subsidiary– She Likes To Boogie Real Low b/w Well Goodbye Baby, soon followed by the Ace disc My Talk Didn’t Do Any Good b/w I Warned You Baby give him a batting average of 100%. All four tunes are hard blues stompers, the best being She Likes To Boogie Real Low which re-writes Louis Jordan’s Blue Lights Boogie as a guitar rocker, Sims playing more like Guitar Slim or Gatemouth Brown than Lightnin’ Hopkins at this point. Recorded at the same session but left in the vault until the nineties was the excellent How Long. None of these records were big sellers, although Walkin’ With Frankie got some airplay in the South and Sims claims to have appeared on American Bandstand to promote it, although no one has ever been able to find evidence of such a broadcast.
Frankie Lee Sims recording career wound down, in 1960, on the recommendation of King Curtis (whose hit Soul Twist, Sims claims to have played on, although it’s actually Billy Butler on guitar, many think he confused it for Bobby Davis’ Monkey Shout (Vest) a disc which King Curtis played on and the guitarist sounds just like Sims), Bobby Robinson brought Frankie to New York and recorded him, although these sessions, lackluster remakes of his previous recordings, wouldn’t be issued until the eighties when the U.K. Krazy Kat label finally released them. He may have done some recording for Arhoolie in 1969 but if he did, none of it was ever issued.
Frankie Lee Sims died in 1970, his health had been in constant decline since a 1963 shooting “incident” and heavy drinking. His passed away just before Specialty issued his first LP, a disc which brought much attention to a career that had been previously unnoticed by the growing white blues audience. He was 53 years old and didn’t look a day over 70. While he was alive he released nine singles on four labels, after his death two LP’s appeared. Not exactly prolific, but the best of it was some of the finest rockin’ blues ever recorded. Yet somehow, like all these stories, it all seems rather tragic to me. I hope he had as much fun making those records as I do listening to them.
Eddie Bo 1930-2009



This year’s death toll just keeps a risin’. Eddie Bo (Edwin Joseph Bocage) died last Wednesday (March 18th) , felled by a massive heart attack. A pianist, singer and songwriter, Eddie Bo, was born in New Orleans 9th Ward and had a career that spanned over half a century. He came from a large, musical family (Sidney Bechet was his great uncle). You could trace the history of New Orleans R&B through Bo’s career, he must have made at least a hundred singles spread out over dozens of labels including Apollo, Chess, Ace, Ric, Swan, Cinderella, Scram and others. A discography can be found here. If you are unfamiliar with his work you can learn more by checking out the Eddie Bo archives here. His career is too long and detailed to get into it in much depth here, but he’s probably best known for writing and recording the original version of Little Richard’s Slippin’ & Slidin’, which he called I’m Wise when he recorded it for the Apollo label in ’54.
Some of my favorite Eddie Bo sides are Hey Bo (Apollo), Walk That Walk, Oh Oh (both on Chess), We Like Mambo, I Love To Rock & Roll (both on Ace). I also thought I’d throw in these two funk classics since he’s extremely popular with soul and funk collectors and dj’s, mostly through these two numbers– Hook and Sling (Scram) and Check Your Bucket (Bo-Sound).
He played the Circle Bar once, at the first Mau Mau Ball, and he was great. I don’t remember a lot about his set since he was playing on the same bill as Howard Tate, R.L. Burnside, Tousaint McCall, Jody Williams, and a dozen other greats (in a bar the size of a postage stamp, a small postage stamp at that), but I do remember him doing Check Your Bucket. If you like what I’ve posted here, keep in mind that it’s the tip of a musical iceberg, Eddie Bo’s career is an archaeologist (and record collector’s) dream, there’s enough good Eddie Bo stuff out there to fill your entire Ipod.
Gillian’s Found Photo #5

It’s already our 5th week on what’s proved to be one of the most popular features of this blog–Found photos from the collection of my wife, Gillian “The Fang” McCain. This snap shot has the date January 64 printed in the border. What can I say about this one? Boots and hair is what comes to my mind. Is he the leader of the hot, local band with a pair of sister groupies? A budding Charlie Starkweather or Charles Schmidt (“the Pied Piper of Tucson”)? Were the characters in John Waters’ Cry Baby based on these people? They sure look like Drapes to me. What would the guys hair look like in twelve months, after Beatlemania set in (they would arrive a month later and either save or ruin rock’n’roll, depending on your viewpoint)? Would this fellow start combing it forward or stay true to his greaser roots? Do the white socks mark him as a southerner? How about the way the girl on the right holds her cigarette, is she a debutante slumming? So many questions….What do you think?
Broken Records (and how they got that way…)





Yes, they break if you sit on them, shoot ’em, step on them, run them over. Sometimes 78’s break if you look at ’em the wrong way. Here’s my collection of broken discs and how they got that way.
From the top photo we find Tampa Red- Mercy Mama b/w Drifting (RCA)— fell out of the sleeve and onto the floor—crack! Miss Lee Morse and Her Blue Grass Boys– Everybody Loves My Baby But My Baby Don’t Love No Body But Me b/w Better Shoot Straight With Your Mama (Perfect, colored shellac) held too tight by an idiot I let look through my country 78’s. Rev A. Nix & his Congregation- Black Diamond Express To Hell pt 1 b/w pt 2 (Vocalion) It was fine when I found it, when I got it home it developed a pressure crack– I think it committed suicide.
Blind Lemon Jefferson- Bad Luck Blues b/w Broke and Hungry (Paramount) An old girlfriend — Dr. Sarah Covington, author of The Trial Of Martyrdom: Persecution and Resistance In Sixteenth-Century England (University Of Notre Dame Press, 2003) found a whole pile of Pre-War 78’s up in Connecticut, mostly jazz but a few blues discs where in there. She was bringing two Blind Lemon 78’s back to New York City as a present for me and in Grand Central Station a big fat guy bumped into her, knocking the records out of her hands. Luckily the other disc– Blind Lemon’s Black Snake Moan (Okeh) survived the crash.
Furry Lewis- Mean Ole Bed Bug Blues b/w Why Don’t You Come Home Blues (Vocalion) This one lived under the sink at Bob Quine’s mom’s house for thirty years undisturbed. While bringing it back to New York (as a present for me) it got cracked. Quine couldn’t remember how it happened (he managed to get several dozen other 78’s to NYC for me, all in perfect condition. I called record dealer and collector John Tefteller to ask if there was anyway to fix it and he told me a copy had recently sold for almost four grand, adding “I’d have paid that for it”. And a great record too! Damn….
Third photo from top: Roy Milton- Milton’s Boogie b/w Groovy Blues (Specialty) I dropped it when I was drunk. Swallows- It Feels So Good b/w I’ll Be Waiting (King, DJ promo) I have no idea how this one got broken. Johnny Ace- Yes, Baby b/w Saving My Love For You (Duke) Cracked when flipping through the records, must’ve had a pressure crack in it I never saw.
Lightnin’ Hopkins- Prayin’ Ground Blues b/w Gotta Move Boogie (Sittin’ In With) Destroyed by the movers when I moved from the E. Village to Chelsea, the only record that got broken, and a good one too. Especially the instrumental b-side.
Bottom Photo (45’s): Kip Tyler & the Flips- She’s My Witch b/w Rumble Rock (Ebb) Destroyed when the fill in DJ following my show at WFMU threw his pile of records on top of mine in the record rack. I should have killed the prick. I did manage to replace it, but this copy, bought at the old Tower Records parking lot flea market in Hollywood cost $5, the replacement cost $40.
Kid Thomas- Wolf Pack b/w The Spell (Federal) See last week’s Kid Thomas posting for the story on this one. I’ve since found a 78 but I still need a replacement 45. Eddie Cochran– Jeanie Jeanie Jeanie b/w Pocket Full Of Hearts (Liberty) Another WFMU fuck up, basically the same story as the Kip Tyler record. Still haven’t found another copy (it’s not even rare, I just refuse to pay $30 for it).
Breaks your fucking heart, eh?
Sinatra- Bim Bam Baby


“Rock and roll is the most brutal, ugly, desperate vicious form of expression it has been my misfortune to hear. Rock n’ roll smells phony and false. It is sung, played and written for the most part by cretinous goons, and by means of its almost imbecilic reiteration, and sly, lewd — in plain fact, dirty — lyrics . . . it manages to be the martial music of every sideburned delinquent on the face of the earth.” (Frank Sinatra at 1958 Congressional hearings, New York Times Magazine, 12.1.58, p.19)
Frank Sinatra hated rock’n’roll, as above quote so quaintly illustrates. Of course if you read the quote carefully he is partially right; rock’n’roll was played for the most part by cretinous goons, the lyrics were often sly, lewd and dirty, and of course it was the music of every sideburned delinquent. The only part I think he got wrong was about it smelling phony and false. Rock’n’roll smelled real and real rock’n’roll still smells good. No matter, it didn’t stop him from trying to cash in on Elvis’ fame, hosting a Welcome Back Elvis TV show when Elvis was discharged from the U.S. Army, on which he and Elvis sang a duet where they swapped each others tunes. Later in his career he would duet with Bono and I don’t mean Sonny, but I don’t think Bono really counts as rock’n’roll.
Our subject today however is an item lurking hidden in the Sinatra catalog. An actual attempt by Frankie baby to cut a real rock’n’roll record. That’s right, in the early fifties, when his career was bottoming out and Columbia A&R head Mitch Miller was desperate to revive Sinatra’s fortunes, Miller was forcing all sorts of bad ideas on the poor fellow (the classic example being Mama Will Bark, long sited as the very worst Sinatra disc). Eventually he brow beat Sinatra into attempting to win back the swooning teenage girls by recording some of that crazy big beat the kids were going wild over, hence this peculiar polystyrene platter: Bim Bam Baby! Issued in ’52 it wasn’t so much a rock’n’roll fad disc as an attempt to weld Sinatra onto the sax driven rhythm and blues sound of guys like Roy Brown, Wynonie Harris and Big Joe Turner who were starting to find a market with white teenagers. Lyrically it’s quite a tongue twister (in fact I think the lyrics are genius— “run your flim flam fingers through my greasy hair”! Indeed!). By the final verse you can actually hear Sinatra getting madder and madder as he struggles with the overboard alliteration. Shit, Don & Dewey or Esquerita could have recorded this one.
New Yorkers note, the Strand has tons of copies for around $5.
Kid Thomas



I guess I’m starting to repeat myself in my old age, since I wrote a similar piece to this one in Kicks magazine #3 back around 1981, but since that was a whole generation ago I might as well. If you are unfamiliar with today’s subject– Louis Thomas Watts aka Kid Thomas you have been leading an incomplete life and are in for a real treat. Besides, it’s a great story.
“At that time, I was doing some light work for a minister, and he had a ’49 Buick. I didn’t have a car, so I waited until he was asleep and I told my guitarist to ease the car out,’cause if he woke up, he’d recognize me. So he starts up the car and bangs it into the car behind him, and the one in front. But he finally got it out, and we made it to Wichita. When I got back (to Chicago), the minister asked me what happened to his car. I told him I hadn’t any idea. He told me,’Thats funny,’cause it disappeared the same night you did.”
The band broke up in Wichita but he returned there a month later, this time driving a 1947 DeSoto with his name misspelled on the side– it read Kid Thumass. Our by now be-conked hero had struck up a partnership with Hound Dog Taylor (see January posting for a picture of his six fingered left hand) and together they proved a good draw in Wichita.
By 1956 rock’n’roll had taken the world by storm and Kid Thomas fell under the spell of Little Richard and soon revamped his sound to showcase the influence of Little Richard and other men who wore their hair up high and screamed a lot. This new musical direction didn’t exactly knock ’em dead in the South Side blues clubs in Chicago to which he had returned, so he packed up and headed west, first to Denver and finally landing in Los Angeles in 1958.
In L.A., Kid came to the attention of George Mottola, then head of A&R at the Modern/RPM/Flair family of labels where he recorded such greats as Richard Berry, Jesse Belvin, and the Teen Queens. Mottola had started his own label– Transcontinental and soon Kid Thomas was back in the studio. Boy, was he. His next release, issued in 1959 on the aforementioned Transcontinental– Rockin’ This Joint Tonight (issued with two different b-sides, the blue label first pressings had You Heard What I Said on the flip, the black, red and white second pressing had You Are An Angel, if you want to hear the former, and you do, you’re gonna have to buy the Norton Records 4-song EP). Rockin’ This Joint Tonight is one of the wildest rock’n’roll discs of all time with Kid Thomas blowing his harmonica and shouting out the lyrics in a frantic frenzy. Just listening to it leaves me breathless. He wouldn’t record again for five years, that’s probably how long it took for him to catch his breath.
Kid took a regular gig in L.A.’s South Central neighborhood at a joint called the Cozy Lounge, working under the name of Tommy Louis and the Rythm (sic) Rockers and sometimes as Tommy Louis and the Versatiles. The local Muriel label issued two singles in 1965– The Hurt Is On b/w I Love You So, which got some airplay around the south despite the lack of promotion, and later the same year Wail Baby Wail b/w Lookie There, perhaps his finest achievement in wax. Wail Baby Wail is another full on Little Richard inspired rocker in the same vein as Rockin’ This Joint Tonight, only this one features guitarist Marshall Hooks’ insane soloing which sounds like Ike Turner undergoing electro shock therapy. Sadly, there was little market for such sounds in 1965 and the disc sunk without a trace.
As Tommy Lewis, he made one last record, issued on Cenco in 1969 he would recut (You Are An) Angel b/w Willowbrook, not a bad record, but nothing to wet your shorts over.
Here comes the sad part. Although he kept on gigging (including playing a party at Dean Martin’s house), Kid Thomas was making rent by mowing lawns. In 1970, after finishing a job in Beverly Hills, a young child ran out into the street from between two parked cars and Thomas accidentally ran over the kid, killing him.
Manslaughter charges were filed, then dropped for lack of evidence. A few months later, after appearing in court on a separate charge (driving with a revoked licence), the kid’s father ambushed Kid Thomas in the court house parking lot, killing him with one bullet to the head.
As a tragic postscript to an already sad story, in 1994, at a live Hangover Hop WFMU radio broadcast, I went to take a piss and some jerk decided he might as well take a look through my box of 45’s. When I returned from the head and asked the cretin to put my records down, he dropped the box and my copy of Wolf Pack on Federal landed on the concrete floor at Brownie’s at just the right angle to crack it in two places. I’ve since manged to track down an original 78, but the 45 is rather hard (and expensive) to come by, and now my copy is held together with scotch tape. And people ask why I don’t do the radio show or dj live anymore. So there’s our story, three great records, two dead bodies, and one cracked disc. Life’s funny like that.
Gillian’s Found Photo #4
In this, our fourth installment of our Gillian’s Found Photo feature, we delve into another area of the Fang’s photographic collecting interests– Black G.I.’s (she recently unearthed an amazing scrapbook of Black Panther G.I’s stationed in Korea, hopefully she’ll be posting some of those pics in the future). This soul brother has a message, it’s written right on the back of the pic:
“To Alice a sweet young lady. I don’t look very happy do I. Snooky” (punctuation errors in original).
No, poor Snooky doesn’t look too happy. Hopefully he made it through his tour of Nam. BTW anyone out there with Black Power, Black Panther and/or Black G.I. snapshots to sell can write to the Fang c/o this blog site. What do you think of Snooky? And what of poor sweet Alice, waiting at home?
This Week’s 5 Pack





Something for every sort of personality disorder this week.
Herbie Duncan


Herbie Duncan died recently. I don’t know what killed him or the exact date that he died. Does it matter?
Herbie Duncan cut three 45’s: Hot Lips Baby b/w Little Angel (Mar-Vel, 1958, re-issued and still available from Norton Records), Escape b/w Roll Along (Glenn, 1959) and That’s All b/w End Of The Rainbow (Glenn, 1960).
Hot Lips Baby is one of rock’n’roll’s pinnacle moments. It turns up on dozens of rockabilly compilation LP’s and CD’s, both legal and bootleg*. It’s my favorite type of record, one where you ask yourself, “did this guy really think he was gonna be the next Elvis”? and/or “how the hell did this even get recorded”? It’s discs like Hot Lips Baby that make record collecting worth it; all those hours around fat, smelly guys who still live with their parents, creepy record dealers trying to pass of bootlegs as rarities, hours spent digging through dusty piles of junk (the knees are really feeling it these days). When you find a record like this (and you don’t find ’em like this too often) it’s like winning Lotto, or the Olympics. You know that you haven’t wasted your time (and life) tracking this stuff down.
In 1986, Deke Dickerson (Untamed Youth, Deke Dickerson Combo, etc.), President of the Herbie Duncan Fan Club (yes, such people exist) tracked him down and found him and his wife living in a trailer camp in Olathe, Kansas. Of that visit he wrote:
“I’ll always remember Herbie most from this visit, when he took his old guitar out of the case, sat on his La-Z-Boy chair, and began warbling “Me And Bobby McGee” in his trademark vocal style. His body, his hands, his head, remained almost motionless as the words and music spilled out from his voice and guitar. Strangely, almost inhumanly, the La-Z-Boy chair began violently rocking back and forth, as if it was levitating, though Herbie remained almost motionless. My friends and I looked at this and remarked on it later, and to this day I have no idea how he did that. There was magic–magic that few understood, but undeniable magic–contained in the body and soul of Herbie Duncan“. Magic indeed. Take that Aliester Crowley! By the sounds of this record it’s magic that the band all manage to finish the song at almost the same time. In fact, the guitar, bass player and drummer all end up stopping on different beats.

