Mississippi John Hurt//The Chicken

I really cannot tell you what made this song pop into my head recently, but once it got there it was hard to make it leave.

Here, Mississippi John Hurt teaches us how to spell "Chicken" and not the state for which he is named, bane of grade school spelling tests from coast to American coast.

Hurt, whose real name was John Smith Hurt and who definitely is from Mississippi (in fact, he lived and died in Mississippi), was a sharecropper by occupation, in addition to a blues singer. Despite his obvious brilliance, his music was a commercial failure for much of his life. Of course, as is so often the case, his posthumous influence has spanned several music genres including blues, country, bluegrass, folk and contemporary rock and roll.

Here is a short, simple ode to a bird we all know and love:



Chicken.mp3

Oh, chicken, chicken, you can't roost too high for me.
Oh, chicken, chicken, come on out of that tree.
Oh, chicken, chicken, chicken, you can't roost too high for me.
C is the way it begins.
H, the next letter then,
I am the third.
C, what a seasonly bird.
K is to fill him in.
E, I'm near the end.
C-H-I-C-K-E-N,
That's the way you spell chicken.

Big Mama Willie Mae Thornton, Elvis Presley//Hound Dog

Friends, I'm pretty siked to say that tomorrow I'm going to be co-leading a workshop, the subject of which is the art of the houseshow, at the Brooklyn-based Willie Mae Rock and Roll Camp for Girls. Last night I compiled a digital file of pictures from houseshows over the years and fantastic fliers made by friends and conspirators. This almost brought a tear to my eye. What is it about houseshows? I don't know. They are magical.

Switching gears, the camp, which is awesome through and through, is named for "Big Mama" Willie Mae Thornton, also awesome through and through. This is the song they've decided to take up as their anthem, understandably. Like yesterday's featured performer, Big Mama grew up in the south and learned to sing in church.

In addition to being one of the first women to play the music that was soon to become "rock and roll," Big Mama was the first person to record this song, which later went on to be one of Elvis's most recognizable hits. Her version is deeper, darker, slower, richer and generally sexier than The King's pop hit. Not that his version is bad. Although, changing that lyric to: "you never caught a rabbit?" Really? REALLY? Once you hear Big Mama's sultry version, you'll never go back. Long live the queen.



Hound Dog.mp3 [Big Mama Version]



Hound Dog.mp3 [Elvis Version]

You ain't nothing but a hound dog,
Been snoopin' round my door.
You ain't nothing but a hound dog,
Been snoopin' round my door.
You can wag your tail,
But I ain't gon' feed you no more.
You told me you was high class,
But I can see through that.
You told me you was high class,
But I can see through that.
Daddy, I know
You ain't a real cool cat.