RIP - Bo Diddley

[RainDogToo]

RIP Bo

[TCP]

RIP Bo Diddley

[stooka]

 

 

God Bless Bo Diddley!

[Analogman]

Clip from - Let the Good Times Roll (1973)

 

I saw this movie on A&E years ago -

 

A concert film cum historical documentary, LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL is both a record and an appreciation of the originators of rock and roll. Shot in 1973, the film integrates footage from Richard Nader's Rock and Roll Revival shows with archival imagery of the 1950s.

 

In the concert sequences, Chuck Berry performs "Maybelline," School Day," "Sweet Little Sixteen," "Johnny B. Goode," and an updated version of "Reelin' and Rockin'" with mildly vulgar lyrics. Chubby Checker sings "The Twist" and "Let's Twist Again." Bill Haley and The Comets sing "Rock Around the Clock" and "Shake, Rattle, and Roll." Fats Domino performs "My Blue Heaven" and "Blueberry Hill." Danny and the Juniors sing "At the Hop." The Shirelles sing "Soldier Boy" and "Everybody Loves a Lover." The Coasters perform "Charlie Brown." Bo Diddley performs "Hey Bo Diddley" and "I'm a Man." Little Richard offers up lively renditions of "Lucille" and "Good Golly, Miss Molly," before he stops the show by stripping to the waist and flinging his clothes out to a cheering audience. The Five Satins sing "In the Still of the Night," "Earth Angel," and an a cappella version of "I'll Be Seeing You." For the finale, Bo Diddley and Chuck Berry share the stage and jam to the delight of the crowd. Throughout the film, the performance footage is intercut or split-screened with images from the 1950s, including movie and television excerpts, still photos, educational and industrial shorts, newsreel footage, and newspaper headlines.

 

LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL is a thoroughly enjoyable, good-natured celebration that aspires to a little more than it achieves. Directors Sid Levin and Robert Abel intend not only to showcase the enduring talent of the men and women who altered the face of popular music, but to make a case for the enormous social significance of their music. Segments of the film are devoted to excerpts of innocuous '50s television programs, old educational films that advise good citizenship, and various sorts of anti-rock and roll propaganda. These clips are contrasted to images that connote youthful rebelliousness of the era, such as a leather-jacketed Marlon Brando, a brooding James Dean, and a swaggering Elvis. The filmmakers endeavor to show how rock and roll provided an essential outlet to young people looking for an alternative to the stifling conventions of the time, but the randomness of their presentation renders it a hodgepodge rather than any kind of a statement. The library footage is used most successfully when comparing the middle-aged rockers to their young selves, as they appeared in black-and-white films or on television. The contrast demonstrates that while these performers have aged, their talent and vitality persists.

 

The best non-concert material in LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL, however, are the quiet off-stage or backstage moments, such as when Bo Diddley reflects ruefully about performing in segregated concert halls, or when Chuck Berry visits a broken down school bus he had toured in, commenting, "if it could talk, I imagine we could convict every band member I had."

 

LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL incorporates some of the worst tendencies of post-WOODSTOCK (1970) concert movies, with endless, distracting variations of split screens, and cinematography that features arena lights which glare into the camera. Beyond these annoyances, though, the film has been quite well photographed by Robert Thomas, who adroitly captures the singular style of each performer, as well as the quirky reactions of individual audience members. He also manages to keep up with Chuck Berry when he gets into his most animated hopping

[NightOfJoy]

NFA

[froggie]

http://www.cbc.ca/arts/music/story/2008/06...amous-riff.html

 

 

The riff that keeps on giving

 

Ten great songs inspired by Bo Diddley's classic guitar rhythm

 

 

 

It was the riff that launched a thousand songs. OK, maybe not a thousand, but a whole lot. And maybe it wasn

[Analogman]

The night Bo Diddley banned the Beat

How do you play with a legend without doing it the legendary way? By learning his lesson of keeping himself new.

By Dave Alvin, Special to The Times

June 4, 2008

"Whatever you do, do not play 'the Beat!' "

 

That was the first thing Bo Diddley said to us before we walked onto the stage of the Music Machine club in West L.A. for two sets in 1983. We were a mix of members of the Blasters and X who had agreed, with great enthusiasm, to back up one of our greatest heroes for free at a benefit show for the Southern California Blues Society.

 

To say that we were upset by his announcement/warning would be an understatement. How could you play Bo Diddley songs and not play the powerful, infectious and sensual Bo Diddley Beat?

 

Since Bo's first records for the Chess label back in the mid-'50s, his "Beat" (a primal and relentless mix of the old shave-and-a-haircut riff, Chicago blues grooves and Latin rhythms) had been borrowed, stolen or adapted by everyone from Buddy Holly to the Rolling Stones to David Bowie for their own hit records.

 

Now, even though Bo had used various permutations of the Beat over the course of his long career, he was asking us to abandon it entirely in favor of . . . what? It's sort of like asking an actor to do "Hamlet" but don't use any of Shakespeare's words.

 

Blasters drummer Bill Bateman and X drummer DJ Bonebreak, sharing the drum and percussion duties for the night, asked Bo to clarify what beat they should play. He tapped out some rhythm that stressed a different accent, but, to be honest, I couldn't tell what the difference was. Fortunately, Bill and DJ picked up on his instructions, and by the end of the first song Bo seemed pretty happy.

 

It was a very good band, with Bill and DJ teaming for the essential duties on drums, timbales and maracas, X's John Doe and Blasters bassist John Bazz sharing the bass position, while my brother Phil, who also played some harmonica, and I followed Bo as best we could on guitars.

 

Most of the songs in the first set were new songs that Bo had recently recorded but none of us had ever heard, let alone studied. We (and just about every other musician in the modern age) had been dissecting all of his old records for years with the passion of theology students poring over the Dead Sea Scrolls or physicists debating string theory. A couple of the songs in the set were straight blues that easily fell into a comfortable pocket, but the rest were extended one-chord, semi-funk jams that wound up sounding as much like "Bitches Brew"-era Miles Davis as they did classic Bo Diddley.

 

As the set progressed and I began to get comfortable with Bo's new beats, I started thinking that it was close-minded of me to expect him to play the old songs the same old way. Wasn't Bo Diddley as much of a musical revolutionary as Bob Dylan? Weren't his original recordings of "Mona" or "Who Do You Love?" as musically unique, pivotal and influential in their day as Dylan's?

 

Maybe Bo wasn't the genius lyricist that Dylan is, but in rock 'n' roll (or blues and folk), lyrics aren't everything. If Dylan could change the melodies, grooves and even lyrics to his songs to keep exploring the possibilities of his art, why couldn't Bo Diddley?

 

Some people would argue that Bo was one of the architects of funk and, if that's the case, why shouldn't he be allowed to follow his own rhythmic path to wherever it might lead him? Why should Bo Diddley have to be stuck in the past just because that's where a part of his audience (and perhaps his backing bands) wanted him to remain?

 

I remember smiling on stage like a goofball as I realized all of this and came to the conclusion that if you really dig Bo Diddley, then let Bo Diddley be Bo Diddley! I was a young guy at the time who was trying his best to replicate old music -- and that's the best way to learn, believe me -- but that night Bo taught me a lesson about growing and surviving as a musician/artist: Stay true to yourself.

 

After the first set I approached Bo backstage and told him what I had been thinking while I played with him. "That's right," he said, laughing. "I already made all them old records years ago. Now I'm keeping myself new."

 

But as we walked back onstage for the second set, Bo turned to us, smiled and said, "You know, you boys are pretty good, so I'll tell what: The first song is gonna be 'Mona' and you can play with the Bo Diddley Beat." And we did.

 

Thank you, Bo, for all your incredible music over the years and, especially, the wise life lesson you taught me.

 

Singer, songwriter and guitarist Dave Alvin has been a member of the Blasters X and the Knitters and leads his own roots-rock group, the Guilty Men.

[MrRain422]

That's an awesome story there.