NYTimes on Blues Legend Leroy Carr

[DudeAsInCool]

The Bluesman Who Behaved Too Well

By ELIJAH WALD

Published: July 18, 2004

What do you picture when you hear the word "blues"? A lone vagabond walking a dusty road in the Mississippi Delta? A gruff giant shouting over the noise of a Chicago bar? An outlaw guitar hero squeezing fiery notes from his Stratocaster?

Today, most people think of blues as the ultimate roots music, the rawest, earthiest sound America has produced. A typical sketch of its evolution runs from the Delta growl of Charlie Patton through Robert Johnson to the electric South Side bands of Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf and eventually to the Rolling Stones and Stevie Ray Vaughan.

This sketch makes perfect sense if you follow it backward. The rock scene has always equated primitivism with authenticity, and it is logical that it would latch onto the grittiest, least polished blues artists as its forebears. Likewise, people in search of an African-American folk heritage are naturally drawn to the music's most archaic-sounding performers.

But before blues was marketed as roots or folk music, it was a vibrant black pop style, and its original audience had very different standards from those of most modern-day fans. While today's blues lovers look back to rural Mississippi, black Americans at the height of the blues era were looking forward to Harlem and "sweet home Chicago." This split is perfectly exemplified by the two audiences' reactions to Leroy Carr.

Carr was the most influential male blues singer and songwriter of the first half of the 20th century, but he was nothing like the current stereotype of an early bluesman. An understated pianist with gentle, expressive voice, he was known for his natty suits and lived most of his life in Indianapolis. His first record, "How Long — How Long Blues," in 1928, had an effect as revolutionary as Bing Crosby's pop crooning, and for similar reasons. Previous blues stars, whether vaudevillians like Bessie Smith or street singers like Blind Lemon Jefferson, had needed huge voices to project their music, but with the help of new

microphone and recording technologies, Carr sounded like a cool city dude carrying on a conversation with a few close friends.

Read the full story here in the Sunday Times:

http://www.nytimes.com/2004/07/18/arts/mus...WALD.html?8hpib