A sonic exploration and tonal analysis of contemporary creative music in a myriad of improvisational/composed settings, textures, and expressions.
Welcome to Sound Projections
I'm your host Kofi Natambu. This online magazine features the very best in contemporary creative music in this creative timezone NOW (the one we're living in) as well as that of the historical past. The purpose is to openly explore, examine, investigate, reflect on, studiously critique, and take opulent pleasure in the sonic and aural dimensions of human experience known and identified to us as MUSIC. I'm also interested in critically examining the wide range of ideas and opinions that govern our commodified notions of the production, consumption, marketing, and commercial exchange of organized sound(s) which largely define and thereby (over)determine our present relationships to music in the general political economy and culture.
Thus this magazine will strive to critically question and go beyond the conventional imposed notions
and categories of what constitutes the generic and stylistic definitions of ‘Jazz’, ‘classical music’, ‘Blues.’
'Rhythm and Blues’, ‘Rock and Roll’, ‘Pop’, ‘Funk’, ‘Hip Hop’, etc. in order to search for what individual
artists and ensembles do cretively to challenge and transform our ingrained ideas and attitudes of what
music is and could be.
So please join me in this ongoing visceral, investigative, and cerebral quest to explore, enjoy, and pay
homage to the endlessly creative and uniquely magisterial dimensions of MUSIC in all of its guises and expressive identities.
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Willie Dixon (1915-1992): Legendary, iconic, and innovative musician, composer, arranger, singer, songwriter, lyricist, ensemble leader, producer, and teacher
Willie Dixon was a consummate bluesman and a key architect of the
Chicago blues. He worked with such icons as Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters
and Howlin’ Wolf.
Biography
Willie Dixon has been called “the poet laureate of the blues” and “the father of modern Chicago blues.
He was indisputably the pre-eminent blues songwriter of his era,
credited with writing more than five hundred songs by the end of his
life. Moreover, Dixon is a towering figure in the history and creation
of Chicago blues on other fronts.
While on staff at Chess Records, Dixon produced, arranged and played
bass on sessions for Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Little
Walter and Sonny Boy Williamson and others. In no small way he served as
a crucial link between the blues and rock and roll.
Born in 1915 in Vicksburg, Mississippi, Dixon began rhyming, singing
and writing songs in his youth. He was exposed to a variety of
music—gospel, blues, country & western—that served as the seeds for
the symbiotic music he would later make in Chicago. Moving to the city
in 1936, he had a brief career as a boxer and then skirmished with the
U.S. Army, refusing induction on the grounds that he was a conscientious
objector. His early forays on the Chicago music scene included stints
with the Five Breezes, the Four Jumps of Jive and the Big Three Trio,
all of which made records. The Big Three Trio, in particular, are
noteworthy for having brought harmony singing to the blues. Dixon really
found his niche at Chess, where he was allowed to develop as a
recording artist, session musician, in-house songwriter and staff
musician beginning in 1951.
Some of the now-classic songs he wrote for others during his lengthy
tenure at Chess include “Hoochie Coochie Man,” “I’m Ready” and “I Just
Want to Make Love For You” (Muddy Waters); “Back Door Man,” “Spoonful,”
“I Ain’t Superstitious” and “Wang Dang Doodle” (Howlin’ Wolf); and “My
Babe” (Little Walter). Although he didn’t write for Chuck Berry, Dixon
played bass on most of his early records. For a few years in the late
Fifties, he also wrote for and worked with artists on the crosstown
Cobra label, including such fledgling bluesmen as Otis Rush, Buddy
Guy and Magic Sam.
Dixon returned to Chess in 1959, and the Sixties saw the full
flowering of his talents there. In addition to writing and producing
some of his greatest works during that decade, he recorded a series of
albums in a duet format with Memphis Slim on the Folkways, Verve and
Battles labels. His first album, Willie’s Blues, was recorded
with Memphis Slim in 1959. He appeared on more recordings with Memphis
Slim before releasing his first solo album, I Am the Blues, in 1970. Albums followed from him at more regular intervals in subsequent years, culminating in the 1988 release of Hidden Charms, which won Dixon a Grammy for Best Traditional Blues Recording.
In his later years, Willie Dixon became a tireless ambassador of the
blues and a vocal advocate for its practitioners, founding the Blues
Heaven Foundation. The organization works to preserve the blues’ legacy
and to secure copyrights and royalties for blues musicians who were
exploited in the past. Speaking with the simple eloquence that was a
hallmark of his songs, Dixon put it like this: “The blues are the roots
and the other musics are the fruits. It’s better keeping the roots
alive, because it means better fruits from now on. The blues are the
roots of all American music. As long as American music survives, so will
the blues.”
Willie Dixon published his autobiography I Am the Blues in 1989—a year after Chess Records released Willie Dixon: The Chess Box,
a two-disc set that included Dixon’s greatest songs as performed by the
artists who made them famous—Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Little
Walter, Bo Diddley, Lowell Fulson and Dixon himself.
Inductee: Willie Dixon (born July 1, 1915, died January 29, 1992)
Willie Dixon was a prolific blues songwriter with more than 500
compositions to his credit. Born and raised in Mississippi, he rode the
rails to Chicago during the Great Depression and became the primary
blues songwriter and producer for Chess Records. Dixon's songs literally
created the so-called “Chicago blues sound” and were recorded by such
blues artists as Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Bo Diddley, Koko Taylor,
and many others. Willie Dixon was born on July 1, 1915, in
Vicksburg, Mississippi. Vicksburg was a lively town located on the
Mississippi River midway between New Orleans and Memphis. As a youth,
Dixon heard a variety of blues, dixieland, and ragtime musicians
performing on the streets, at picnics and other community functions, and
in the clubs near his home where he would listen to them from the
sidewalk. Dixon grew up in an integrated neighborhood on the
northern edge of Vicksburg, where his mother ran a small restaurant. The
family of seven children lived behind the restaurant, and next to the
restaurant was Curley's Barrelhouse. Listening from the street, Dixon,
then about eight years old, heard bluesmen Little Brother Montgomery and
Charley Patton perform there along with a variety of ragtime and
dixieland piano players. Dixon was only twelve when he first
landed in jail and was sent to a county farm for stealing some fixtures
from an old torn-down house. He recalled, “That's when I really learned
about the blues. I had heard 'em with the music and took 'em to be an
enjoyable thing but after I heard these guys down there moaning and
groaning these really down-to-earth blues, I began to inquire about
'em.... I really began to find out what the blues meant to black people,
how it gave them consolation to be able to think these things over and
sing them to themselves or let other people know what they had in mind
and how they resented various things in life.” About a year later
Dixon was caught by the local authorities near Clarksdale, Mississippi,
and arrested for hoboing. He was given thirty days at the Harvey Allen
County Farm, located near the infamous Parchman Farm prison. At the
Allen Farm, Dixon saw many prisoners being mistreated and beatenDixon
himself was mistreated at the county farm, receiving a blow to his head
that he said made him deaf for about four years. He managed to escape,
though, and walked to Memphis, where he hopped a freight into Chicago.
He stayed there briefly at his sister's house, then went to New York for
a short time before returning to Vicksburg. When Dixon arrived in
Chicago in 1936, he started training to be a boxer. He was in excellent
physical condition from the heavy work he had been doing down south,
and he was a big man as well. In 1937 he won the Illinois Golden Gloves
in the novice heavyweight category. Throughout the late 1930s, Dixon was
singing in Chicago with various gospel groups, some of which performed
on the radio. Dixon had received good training in vocal harmony from
Theo Phelps back in Vicksburg, where he sang bass with the Union Jubilee
Singers. Around the same time, Leonard “Baby Doo” Caston gave Dixon his
first musical instrument--a makeshift bass made out of an oil can and
one string. Dixon, Caston, and some other musicians formed a group
called the Five Breezes. They played around Chicago and in 1939 made a
record that marked Dixon's first appearance on vinyl. In 1946
Dixon and Caston formed the Big Three Trio, named after the wartime “Big
Three” of U.S. president Franklin Roosevelt, British prime minister
Winston Churchill, and Soviet political leader Joseph Stalin. The group
was modeled after other popular black vocal groups of the time, such as
the Mills Brothers and the Ink Spots. Dixon by this time was singing and
playing a regular upright bass. While Chicago blues musicians like
Muddy Waters and Little Walter were playing to all-black audiences in
small clubs, the Big Three Trio played large show clubs with capacities
of three to five thousand. In 1951 after several years of
successful touring and recording, the Big Three Trio disbanded. Many of
Dixon's compositions were never recorded by the trio, but these songs
turned up later in the repertoire of the blues artists Dixon worked with
in the 1950s. Leonard and Phil Chess began recording the blues in
the late 1940s, and by 1950 the Chess brothers were releasing blues
records on the label bearing their name. Over the next decade, Chess
became what many consider to be the most important blues label in the
world, releasing material by such blues giants as Muddy Waters and
Howlin' Wolf and rhythm and blues artists like Bo Diddley and Chuck
Berry. Many of the blues songs recorded at Chess were written, arranged,
and produced by Willie Dixon. Dixon was first used on recording
sessions by the Chess brothers in the late 1940s, as his schedule
allowed. After the Big Three Trio disbanded, Dixon became a full-time
employee of Chess. He performed a variety of duties, including
producing, arranging, leading the studio band, and playing bass. Dixon's
first big break as a songwriter came when Muddy Waters recorded his
“Hoochie Coochie Man” in 1954. Waters was one of Chess's most popular
artists and the song became Waters's biggest hit, reaching Number Three
on the rhythm and blues charts, Dixon became the label's top songwriter.
Chess also released Waters's recordings of Dixon's “I Just Wanna Make
Love to You” and “I'm Ready” in 1954, and they both became Top Ten R
& B hits. In 1955 Dixon charted his first Number One hit when Little Walter recorded “My Babe,” a song that became a blues classic. One
of Dixon's most widely recorded songs, “My Babe” has been performed and
recorded by artists as varied as the Everly Brothers, Elvis Presley,
Ricky Nelson, the Righteous Brothers, Nancy Wilson, Ike and Tina Turner,
and blues artists John Lee Hooker, Bo Diddley, and Lightnin' Hopkins. Dixon
supplied Chess blues recording artists with songs for three years, from
1954 through 1956. At the end of 1956, however, he left the label over
disputes regarding royalties and contracts. He continued to play on
recording sessions at Chess, though, most notably providing bass on all
of Chuck Berry's sessions starting with the recording of “Maybelline” in
1955. In 1957 Dixon joined the small independent Cobra Records,
where he recorded such bluesmen as Otis Rush, Buddy Guy, and Magic Sam,
creating what became known as the “West Side Sound.” It was a blues
style that fused the Delta influence of classic Chicago blues with
single-string lead guitar lines la B. B. King. The West Side gave birth
to a less traditional, more modern blues sound and the emphasis placed
on the guitar as a lead instrument ultimately proved to be a vastly
influential force on the British blues crew in their formative stages.” Gradually
learning more about the music business, Dixon formed his own publishing
company, Ghana Music, in 1957 and registered it with Broadcast Music
Incorporated (BMI) to protect his copyright interest in his own songs.
His “I Can't Quit You Baby” was a Top Ten rhythm and blues hit for Otis
Rush, but Cobra Records soon faced financial difficulties. By 1959 Dixon
was back at Chess as a full-time employee. The late 1950s were a
difficult time for bluesmen in Chicago, even as blues music was gaining
popularity in other parts of the United States. In 1959 Dixon teamed up
with an old friend, pianist Memphis Slim, to perform at the Newport Folk
Festival in Newport, Rhode Island. They continued to play together at
coffee houses and folk clubs throughout the country and eventually
became key players in a folk and blues revival among young white
audiences that achieved its height in the 1960s. Dixon began
internationalizing the blues when he went to England with Memphis Slim
in 1960. Dixon performed as part of the First American Folk Blues
Festival that toured Europe in 1962. Organized by German blues fans
Horst Lippmann and Fritz Rau, the festival also included Memphis Slim,
T-Bone Walker, John Lee Hooker, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee, and
other blues musicians. The American Folk Blues Festival ran from
1962 through 1971 and helped the blues reach an audience of young
Europeans. American blues musicians soon found they could make more
money playing in Europe than in Chicago. They played in concert halls
and were reportedly treated like royalty. Dixon played on the tour for
three years, then became the Chicago contact for booking blues musicians
for the tour. Toward the end of the 1960s soul music eclipsed the
blues in black record sales. Chess Records' last major hit was Koko
Taylor's 1966 recording of Willie Dixon's “Wang Dang Doodle.” Many
prominent bluesmen had died, including Elmore James, Sonny Boy
Williamson, Little Walter, and J.B. Lenoir. Chess Records was sold in
1969 and Dixon recorded his last session for the label in 1970. The
many cover versions of his songs by the rock bands of the 1960s
enhanced Dixon's reputation as a certified blues legend. He revived his
career as a performer by forming the Chicago Blues All-Stars in 1969.
The group's original lineup included Johnny Shines on guitar and vocals,
Sunnyland Slim on piano, Walter “Shakey” Horton on harmonica, Clifton
James on drums, and Dixon on bass and vocals. Throughout the 1970s
Dixon continued to write new songs, record other artists, and release
his own performances on his own Yambo label. Two albums, “Catalyst,” in
1973 and “What's Happened to My Blues?” in 1977, received Grammy
nominations. His busy performing schedule kept him on the road in the
United States and abroad for six months out of the year until 1977, when
his diabetes worsened and caused him to be hospitalized. He lost a foot
from the disease but, after a period of recuperation, continued
performing into the next decade. Dixon resumed touring and
regrouped the Chicago Blues All-Stars in the early 1980s. A 1983 live
recording from the Montreux Jazz Festival in Switzerland resulted in
another Grammy nomination. In the 1980s, Dixon established the Blues
Heaven Foundation, a nonprofit organization providing scholarship awards
and musical instruments to poorly funded schools. Blues Heaven also
offers assistance to indigent blues musicians and helps them secure the
rights to their songs. Ever active in protecting his own copyrights,
Dixon himself reached an out-of-court settlement in 1987 over the
similarity of Led Zeppelin's 1969 hit “Whole Lotta Love” to his own “You
Need Love.” Dixon's final two albums were well received, with the
1988 album “Hidden Charms” winning a Grammy Award for best traditional
blues recording. In 1989 he recorded the soundtrack for the film “Ginger
Ale Afternoon,” which also was nominated for a Grammy. When Dixon
died in 1992 at the age of 76, the music world lost one of its foremost
blues composers and performers. From his musical roots in the
Mississippi Delta and Chicago, Dixon created a body of work that
reflected the changing times in which he lived.
Willie Dixon's
life and work was virtually an embodiment of the progress of the blues,
from an accidental creation of the descendants of freed slaves to a
recognized and vital part of America's musical heritage. That Dixon
was one of the first professional blues songwriters to benefit in a
serious, material way -- and that he had to fight to do it -- from his
work also made him an important symbol of the injustice that still
informs the music industry, even at the end of the 20th century. A
producer, songwriter, bassist, and singer, he helped Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Little Walter, and others find their most commercially successful voices. By the time he was a teenager, Dixon
was writing songs and selling copies to the local bands. He also
studied music with a local carpenter, Theo Phelps, who taught him about
harmony singing. With his bass voice, Dixon later joined a group organized by Phelps, the Union Jubilee Singers, who appeared on local radio. Dixon
eventually made his way to Chicago, where he won the Illinois State
Golden Gloves Heavyweight Championship. He might have been a successful
boxer, but he turned to music instead, thanks to Leonard "Baby Doo" Caston, a guitarist who had seen Dixon at the gym where he worked out and occasionally sang with him. The two formed a duo playing on street corners, and later Dixon took up the bass as an instrument. They later formed a group, the Five Breezes, who recorded for the Bluebird label. The group's success was halted, however, when Dixon refused induction into the armed forces as a conscientious objector. Dixon was eventually freed after a year, and formed another group, the Four Jumps of Jive. In 1945, however, Dixon was back working with Caston in a group called the Big Three Trio, with guitarist Bernardo Dennis (later replaced by Ollie Crawford). During this period, Dixon would occasionally appear as a bassist at late-night jam sessions featuring members of the growing blues community, including Muddy Waters. Later on when the Chess brothers -- who owned a club where Dixon
occasionally played -- began a new record label, Aristocrat (later
Chess), they hired him, initially as a bassist on a 1948 session for Robert Nighthawk. The Chess brothers liked Dixon's
playing, and his skills as a songwriter and arranger, and during the
next two years he was working regularly for the Chess brothers. He got
to record some of his own material, but generally Dixon was seldom featured as an artist at any of these sessions. Dixon's real recognition as a songwriter began with Muddy Waters' recording of "Hoochie Coochie Man." The success of that single, "Evil" by Howlin' Wolf, and "My Babe" by Little Walter saw Dixon established as Chess' most reliable tunesmith, and the Chess brothers continually pushed Dixon's songs on their artists. In addition to writing songs, Dixon continued as bassist and recording manager of many of the Chess label's recording sessions, including those by Lowell Fulson, Bo Diddley, and Otis Rush. Dixon's
remuneration for all of this work, including the songwriting, was
minimal -- he was barely able to support his rapidly growing family on
the 100 dollars a week that the Chess brothers were giving him, and a
short stint with the rival Cobra label at the end of the '50s didn't
help him much. During the mid-'60s, Chess gradually phased out Dixon's
bass work, in favor of electric bass, thus reducing his presence at
many of the sessions. At the same time, a European concert promoter
named Horst Lippmann
had begun a series of shows called the American Folk-Blues Festival,
for which he would bring some of the top blues players in America over
to tour the continent. Dixon
ended up organizing the musical side of these shows for the first
decade or more, recording on his own as well and earning a good deal
more money than he was seeing from his work for Chess. At the same time,
he began to see a growing interest in his songwriting from the British
rock bands that he saw while in London -- his music was getting covered
regularly by artists like the Rolling Stones and the Yardbirds,
and when he visited England, he even found himself cajoled into
presenting his newest songs to their managements. Back at Chess, Howlin' Wolf and Muddy Waters continued to perform Dixon's songs, as did newer artists such as Koko Taylor, who had her own hit with "Wang Dang Doodle." Gradually, however, after the mid-'60s, Dixon saw his relationship with Chess Records come to a halt. Partly this was a result of time — the passing of artists such as Little Walter and Sonny Boy Williamson
reduced the label's roster of older performers, with whom he had worked
for years, and the company's experiments with more rock-oriented sounds
(especially on the "Cadet Concept" imprint) took it's output in a
direction to which Dixon couldn't contribute. And the death of Leonard Chess
in the fall of 1969 and the subsequent sale of the company brought
about the end of Dixon's relationship to the company.
By the end of the 1960s, Dixon
was eager to try his hand as a performer again, a career that had been
interrupted when he'd gone to work for Chess as a producer. He recorded
an album of his best-known songs, I Am the Blues, for Columbia Records, and organized a touring band, the Chicago Blues All Stars,
to play concerts in Europe. Suddenly, in his fifties, he began making a
major name for himself on-stage for the first time in his career.
Around this time, Dixon
began to have grave doubts about the nature of the songwriting contract
that he had with Chess' publishing arm, Arc Music. He was seeing
precious little money from songwriting, despite the recording of hit
versions of such Dixon songs as "Spoonful" by Cream.
He had never seen as much money as he was entitled to as a songwriter,
but during the 1970s he began to understand just how much money he'd
been deprived of, by design or just plain negligence on the part of the
publisher doing its job on his behalf.
Arc Music had sued Led Zeppelin for copyright infringement over "Bring It on Home" on Led Zeppelin II, saying that it was Dixon's song, and won a settlement that Dixon never saw any part of until his manager did an audit of Arc's accounts. Dixon and Muddy Waters
would later file suit against Arc Music to recover royalties and the
ownership of their copyrights. Additionally, many years later Dixon brought suit against Led Zeppelin for copyright infringement over "Whole Lotta Love" and its resemblance to Dixon's "You Need Love." Both cases resulted in out-of-court settlements that were generous to the songwriter.
The 1980s saw Dixon
as the last survivor of the Chess blues stable and he began working
with various organizations to help secure song copyrights on behalf of
blues songwriters who, like himself, had been deprived of revenue during
previous decades. In 1988, Dixon became the first producer/songwriter to be honored with a boxed set collection, when MCA Records released Willie Dixon: The Chess Box, which included several rare Dixon sides as well as the most famous recordings of his songs by Chess' stars. The following year, Dixon published I Am the Blues (Da Capo Press), his autobiography, written in association with Don Snowden.
Dixon continued performing, and was also called in as a producer on movie soundtracks such as Gingerale Afternoon and La Bamba, producing the work of his old stablemate Bo Diddley. By that time, Dixon was regarded as something of an elder statesman, composer, and spokesperson of American blues. Dixon
eventually began suffering from increasingly poor health, and lost a
leg to diabetes. He died peacefully in his sleep early in 1992.
Willie Dixon, in full William James Dixon, (born July 1, 1915, Vicksburg, Miss., U.S.—died Jan. 29, 1992, Burbank, Calif.), American blues musician who, as record producer, bassist, and prolific songwriter, exerted a major influence on the post-World War II Chicago style. Dixon’s mother wrote religious poetry, and he sang in a gospel quartet before moving to Chicago in 1936. The following year he won the Illinois Golden Glove amateur heavyweight boxing championship. He began playing the double bass in 1939 and worked extensively with the Big Three Trio (1946–52). When that group dissolved, he began working full-time for Chess Records, serving as a house bassist and arranger on recording sessions. Dixon’s upbeat blues compositions, which he sold for as little as $30, helped usher in the Chicago blues sound of the 1950s. Among his best-known songs are “I’m Your Hoochie Coochie Man” and “I’m Ready,” written for Muddy Waters; “Little Red Rooster” and “Back Door Man,” for Howlin’ Wolf; “My Babe,” for Little Walter; “Bring It on Home,” for the second Sonny Boy Williamson
(Alex “Rice” Miller); and “The Seventh Son” and “Wang Dang Doodle.” In
the late 1950s he worked with the short-lived Cobra label; in the 1960s
he toured Europe with the American Folk Blues Festival and formed the
Chicago Blues All-Stars, which traveled widely throughout the United
States and Europe. Rock performers such as the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Elvis Presley, and Led Zeppelin recorded his songs. He was the founder of the Blues Heaven Foundation, a nonprofit organization designed to benefit destitute blues performers and provide scholarships to young musicians. His autobiography is entitled I Am the Blues (1989).
Wrote seminal blues hits "Hoochie Coochie Man" and "Little Red Rooster"
He’s been called “the poet laureate of the blues” and “the
father of modern Chicago blues” for good reason, what with classic songs
like “Hoochie Coochie Man,” “I Just Want to Make Love to You,” “Little
Red Rooster,” “I’m Ready,” "My Babe,” "Spoonful”, and "You Can't Judge a
Book by the Cover,” recorded by the likes of fellow Chicago bluesmen
Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf and Little Walter, not to mention rockers
ranging from Bo Diddley to Bob Dylan, Cream, Jeff Beck, The Doors, Etta James, Adele, Van Morrison, The Kinks, the Grateful Dead, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Buddy Guy, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, and the Rolling Stones. Indeed, Willie Dixon (born William James “Willie” Dixon on July 1,
1915 in Vicksburg, Miss.) is credited with writing over 500 songs—and
serving as a vital link between blues and rock ‘n’ roll. He was exposed
to gospel, blues and country & western music in his youth, when he
began singing and writing songs. He moved to Chicago in 1936, where he
was a boxer for a short time. An upright bass player, he also performed
with Chicago recording bands including the Five Breezes, the Four Jumps
of Jive and the Big Three Trio. At Chicago’s legendary Chess Records
beginning in 1951, he served as a recording artist, session musician,
in-house songwriter and staff musician, producing, arranging and playing
bass on sessions for roster artists including Chuck Berry, Muddy
Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Little Walter and Sonny Boy Williamson. As an artist in his own right, his 1988 album Hidden Charms won
a Grammy for Best Traditional Blues Recording. Meanwhile, “Hoochie
Coochie Man,” which was first recorded by Muddy Waters and later by Jimi
Hendrix, Chuck Berry and Jimmy Smith, went on to be recognized by The
Blues Foundation and the Grammy Hall of Fame for its influence in pop
music and in 2004, was selected for preservation by the U.S. Library of
Congress National Recording Registry. “Little Red Rooster,” which was
recorded by the Rolling Stones, Sam Cooke,
the Grateful Dead, The Doors and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, was
included in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s list of the “500 Songs That
Shaped Rock & Roll.” Dixon was inducted into The Blues Hall of Fame in 1980 and
posthumously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in the “early
influences” (pre-rock) category in 1994 (he died on January 29, 1992, at
76). He published his autobiography, I Am the Blues, in 1989,
and in his later years he acted as a tireless ambassador of the blues
and advocate for its practitioners: He founded the Blues Heaven
Foundation to preserve the blues’ legacy and encourage future blues
artists while supporting the welfare of senior blues musicians. He also fought to secure copyrights and royalties for blues musicians
who were exploited in the past, including himself: In 1987 he settled a
plagiarism suit with Led Zeppelin involving their use of his music and
lyrics.
"Generations of blues and rock artists covered his songs from the Stones to Dylan"
Willie Dixon, Musician, 76, Dies; Singer and Writer of Classic Blues
Willie
Dixon, who wrote blues standards and produced many classic blues
albums, died of heart failure yesterday at St. Joseph Medical Center in
Burbank, Calif. He was 76 years old and lived in southern California.
As
a songwriter, producer, arranger and bassist, Mr. Dixon was a towering
figure in the creation of Chicago blues, which was in turn a cornerstone
of rock-and-roll. His songs were performed by leading blues figures,
including Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf, and picked up by rock bands
including the Rolling Stones, Cream and the Doors. The lusty imagery,
laconic humor and hints of mysterious ritual in his best songs made them
sound like age-old folk poems.
Mr.
Dixon was born in Vicksburg, Miss., in 1915. By the early 1930's, he
was writing songs and selling them to a local country band. He also
joined a gospel group, the Jubilee Singers. Jail Instead of the Army
In
1936, he moved to Chicago to become a boxer. He won the Illinois State
Golden Gloves heavyweight championship (novice division) in 1937, but a
fight with his manager soon ended that career.
He
returned to music, singing and playing bass with Leonard (Baby Doo)
Caston, and made his first records for the Bluebird label as a member of
the Five Breezes in 1940. In 1941, he refused induction into the Army.
"I didn't feel I had to go because of the conditions that existed among
my people," he said later. After a year in and out of jail, Mr. Dixon
formed the Four Jumps of Jive, who recorded for Mercury.
In
1945, Mr. Dixon and Mr. Caston formed the Big Three Trio, a
rhythm-and-blues vocal group that had a hit with "Wee Wee Baby, You Sure
Look Good to Me" in 1946. Playing a one-stringed bass with a tin can
resonator, Mr. Dixon also backed up Tampa Red, Memphis Minnie and other
blues musicians at recording sessions. Mr. Dixon started playing studio
sessions for Chess Records in 1948, and after the Big Three dissolved in
1951 he started working for Chess full time.
From Backup to Band Leader
He
recorded for Chess as a singer but was far more successful as a
songwriter, beginning with his first major blues hit, Muddy Waters's
1954 "Hoochie Koochie Man," with its stop-time riff. At Chess and, from
1957 to 1959, at Cobra Records, he provided songs and guidance for
Little Walter, Lowell Fulson, Buddy Guy, Otis Rush, Magic Sam and, most
importantly, Howlin' Wolf, for whom he wrote "Back Door Man," "Wang Dang
Doodle," "Spoonful," "Little Red Rooster," "You Can't Judge a Book by
Its Cover" and other blues classics.
At
Chess, he also played bass behind Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley and worked
with gospel singers and vocal groups. Mr. Dixon took hard Chicago blues
to Europe as the band leader for the traveling American Folk Blues
festival from 1962 to 1964. There his songs inspired the Yardbirds and
the Rolling Stones.
As
the Chess label shifted away from blues, Mr. Dixon turned to
performing, leading a band called the Chicago All-Stars. He recorded for
the Columbia, Ovation, Pausa and Capitol labels; he also wrote a song
for the soundtrack of Martin Scorsese's film "The Color of Money" and
produced Bo Diddley's remake of "Who Do You Love" in the movie "La
Bamba." Although he had sold the copyrights to many of his songs during
the 1950's, he gradually won some of them back. He founded the Blues
Heaven Foundation, a nonprofit organization that helps older blues
performers and gives scholarships to young musicians.
He is survived by his wife, Marie, and several children.
We run down 12 landmark copyright cases in music history, from the
Beach Boys vs. Chuck Berry to Lana Del Rey vs. Radiohead.
Western music is made up of just 12
notes, which yield a practically infinite number of songs. That’s the
theory, at least. It’s only natural that composers mimic what’s been
successful in the past, but as Robin Thicke and Pharrell
learned the hard way, there’s a blurred line between inspiration and
theft. And musical copyright continues to be a hot-button issue,
affecting everyone from Madonna, Justin Bieber, Ed Sheeran and Lana Del Rey to the mighty Led Zeppelin.
Read on for 12 of the most infamous copyright infringement cases in
pop music history. From lyrical lifts and unlicensed sampling, to
melodies that sound just a tad too similar, there are many points of
contention. Are the original artists looking out for their intellectual
property or their bank balance? The jury is out.
Michael Ochs Archives/Getty, Kirk West/Getty.Led Zeppelin (1) and Willie Dixon (r)
Led Zeppelin vs. Willie Dixon (1972)
"Bring It On Home," by Led Zeppelin (1969) vs. "Bring It On Home," by Sonny Boy Williamson (written by Willie Dixon) (1966)
"Whole Lotta Love," by Led Zeppelin (1969) vs. "You Need Love," by Muddy Waters (written by Willie Dixon) (1962)
The Case: Courts found that two tracks on II,
Led Zeppelin's sophomore album, owed crushing debts to Chicago blues
classics by Willie Dixon. Album opener "Whole Lotta Love" copped lyrics
from the 1962 Dixon-penned Muddy Waters song "You Need Love." The
source material for Zep's "Bring It On Home" is even more apparent.
Page borrowed the intro and outro of Sonny Boy Williamson's 1966
original, intending it as a deliberate homage to the blues great; Dixon
didn't see it that way and sued the band for copyright infringement in
1972. He took them to court again in 1985 over writing credits on "Whole
Lotta Love," which by then had become a classic-rock staple.
TheVerdict:
Both suits were settled out of court for undisclosed – but presumably
large – sums. Songwriting credit reverted to Dixon in the case of "Bring
It On Home," and his name is also included on "Whole Lotta Love" along
with the rest of Led Zeppelin. Despite the cost, Robert Plant was
unbothered by the controversy over the latter song. "Page's riff was
Page's riff," he told Musician Magazine in 1990. "It was there
before anything else. … At the time, there was a lot of conversation
about what to do. It was decided that it was so far away in time and
influence that … well, you only get caught when you're successful.
That's the game."
Why It Matters: Led
Zeppelin's artistic debt to the blues, one shared by many of their
British classic-rock peers, was never in doubt, but these suits actually
took legal stock of that debt – and put a price tag on it.
Willie Dixon on Songwriting, Bass Playing, and the Blues
WILLIE DIXON
For
four decades, Willie Dixon loomed at the forefront of Chicago blues,
working as a bassist, arranger, band leader, producer, talent scout,
agent, A&R man, and music publisher. His most enduring
contributions, though, were the songs he wrote. Dixon made Muddy Waters
the “Hoochie Coochie Man,” taught Howlin’ Wolf “Evil” and “Spoonful,”
and showed Sonny Boy Williamson how to “Bring It on Home.” “Willie Dixon
is the man who changed the style of the blues in Chicago,” said Johnny
Shines, a regular on the scene. “As a songwriter and producer, that man
is a genius. Yes, sir. You want a hit song, go to Willie Dixon. Play it
like he say play it, and sing it like he say sing it, and you damn near
got a hit.”
Laced with images drawn from his Mississippi childhood and subsequent
life in Chicago, Dixon’s lyrics explored longing, lust, love, betrayal,
magic, endurance, joy, and other real-life experiences. Some of his
best bordered on sheer poetry. Consider, for instance, these verses from
“Wang Dang Doodle” (to get the full effect, listen to Koko Taylor
original version, with Buddy Guy on lead guitar and Willie Dixon on bass
and harmony vocals, as you read along http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVxMBAWr6Es):
Tell Automatic Slim, tell Razor-Totin’ Jim Tell Butcher-Knife-Totin’ Annie, tell Fast-Talkin’ Fanny We gonna pitch a ball, down to that union hall We gonna romp and tromp till midnight We gonna fuss and fight till daylight We gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all night long All night long, all night long, all night long, all night long We gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all night long Tell Fats and Washboard Sam that everybody gonna jam Tell Shaky and Boxcar Joe we got sawdust on the floor Tell Peg and Caroline Dye we gonna have a heck of a time And when the fish scent fill the air There’ll be snuff juice everywhere We gonna pitch a wang dang doodle, all night long All night long, all night long, all night long, all night long
For Dixon, writing lyrics was inextricably linked to reporting on the
human condition – “the facts of life,” as he described it. Today, he’s
rightfully regarded as the poet laureate of the blues.
Born William James Dixon in Vicksburg, Mississippi, on July 1, 1915,
Willie learned to communicate in rhymes with his mother, a religious
poet. He had vivid recollections of skipping school to follow around
Little Brother Montgomery’s band as it played atop a flatbed truck. In
his teens he served time in Mississippi prison farms. He began his
musical career singing bass parts for the Union Jubilee Singers gospel
quartet. In 1936 he left Mississippi for Chicago and devoted himself to
boxing, winning the Illinois State Golden Gloves Heavyweight
Championship the following year. His subsequent professional career
lasted four bouts (or five, if you count the fracas with his manager in
the Boxing Commissioner’s office). Guitarist Leonard “Baby Doo” Caston
talked Willie into making music his career and built him his first bass
out of a tin can. In 1939 they formed the Five Breezes, which
specialized in jazzy vocal harmonies. The band performed until at the
outset of World War II, when Dixon was jailed for refusing induction
into the armed forces. After a year of legal entanglements, Willie was
free to gig around Chicago with his new lineup, the Four Jumps of Jive.
After
the war Dixon and Caston formed the Big Three Trio, which recorded for
Columbia. They were big fans of the Mills Brothers, and their harmony
vocals hit a popular note with white audiences along the North Shore.
After hours, Dixon headed to Chicago’s South Side to jam with Muddy
Waters and other bluesmen. Hearing Dixon at the El Casino Club, the
Chess brothers recruited him for their Aristocrat label, the forerunner
of Chess Records. Dixon’s initial contribution was as a studio musician.
By 1951, he had full-scale involvement with Chess Records and its
subsidiary, Checker. As the company’s staff producer and chief talent
scout, Dixon had a hand in the success of Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf,
Little Walter, Jimmy Rogers, Sonny Boy Williamson, Koko Taylor, and many
others. In 1955 he began recording singles under his own name, for
Checker, but these did not fare as well as other performer’s versions of
his songs. While at Chess, Dixon played bass on the breakthrough rock
and roll recordings of Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley. Later in the 1950s,
he plied his skills at Cobra Records, helping Otis Rush, Magic Sam,
Buddy Guy, and Betty Everett get their starts.
During the early 1960s, Dixon helped organize the American Folk Blues
Festival and toured Great Britain and Europe. Audiences, who recognized
his name via songwriting credits on the backs of albums, flocked to see
him in person. “I can’t say enough about Willie Dixon,” said Keith
Richards. “I mean, what a songwriter! To me, that’s one of the names.
When I was getting into the blues, it was, ‘Who wrote this?’ I was
lookin’ at Muddy Waters records, and who wrote it? ‘Dixon, Dixon,
Dixon.’ The bass player is writin’ these songs? And then I’m lookin’ at
Howlin’ Wolf: ‘Dixon, Dixon, Dixon.’ I said, ‘Oh, yeah, this guy is more
than just a great bass player!’ And let’s face it: He was an incredible
bass player. You know, that would be enough. But he’s the backbone of
postwar blues writing, the absolute. Personally, I talk of him and Muddy
in the same breath, and John Lee [Hooker], come to that. You know,
gents. These guys don’t have to prove anything. They know who they are.
They knew what they could do. They know they can deliver. Willie, to me,
is a total gent and one of the best songwriters I can think of.Willie Dixon is superior.”
Early on, the Rolling Stones established their blues credentials with
Dixon’s “I Just Want to Make Love to You” and scored a 1964 Top-20 hit
in the U.K. with his “Little Red Rooster.” While making a name for
himself in London, Jimi Hendrix thrilled BBC listeners with his
otherworldly cover of “Hoochie Coochie Man.” Cream, with Eric Clapton on
guitar, transformed “Spoonful” into the classic power trio jam. Clapton’s peers, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page, each covered two
Willie Dixon songs on their first post-Yardbirds albums, Beck and Rod
Stewart doing “You Shook Me” and “I Ain’t Superstitious” on Truth,
and Page featuring “You Shook Me” and “I Can’t Quit You Baby” on the
first Led Zeppelin album. Back home in the U.S., Dixon’s songs easily
crossed over into rock, with noteworthy versions by the Doors, Allman
Brothers Band, Grateful Dead, Bob Dylan, and many others. He’s
doubtlessly the only composer in history to have his songs covered by
Styx, Queen, Oingo Boingo, PJ Harvey, and Megadeth.
Willie Dixon released several solo albums, notably 1970’s I Am the Blues, on Columbia, and the 1989 Grammy-winning Hidden Charms. In the late 1980s, Chess Records celebrated his career with the Willie Dixon box set. Near the end of his life, Dixon collaborated with Don Snowden on an autobiography, I Am the Blues: The Willie Dixon Story,
and founded the Blues Heaven Foundation. Willie Dixon died of heart
failure on January 29, 1992, and was buried in Burr Oak Cemetery in
Alsip, Illinois.
Over the years, I spoke with Willie several times. He was always
helpful, friendly, and insightful. My favorite interview with him,
published here for the first time in its entirety, took place at his
home on April 21, 1980. ###
Are you playing much bass these days?
Yes. I was playing last night at the Wise Fool here in Chicago, and
last week I was over in Ohio. And the week before that, I was up in
Rhode Island, New York, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia.
What kind of bass are you using?
Oh, I’m using a upright bass. It’s a old Kay. My son, he play bass.
He’s got one of those from England – I done forgot the name of it, but
it’s one of those that’s made in England. He’s had it a good while. And I
play the upright Kay bass.
How long have you been playing the one you have now? Oh, this Kay bass I have, I had it ’round ’bout 18 years or something like that.
Do you ever play electric bass?
Oh, yes! A long time ago, I first started on the electric bass, when
they first came out with them, you know. But at that particular time
they wasn’t doin’ very much rock-style stuff. I found out that the old
upright bass gave the type of things that I was doin’, like the blues
and the spiritual things, a better background sound. Of course, the
modern bass do a beautiful job on the modern-type songs, you know, but I
had one at first. Jack Myers – you know, the fellow that was playin’
with Buddy Guy – I let him have it.
How many basses have you owned during your career? Oh, I would say I’ve really owned about five different basses. I
bought a Fender bass for my son once. And then I had one given to me
once. I’ve owned five basses.
When you started performing in the late 1930s, who were the bass players that you listened to?
Well, I used to listen to this fellow who used to play with Duke
[Ellington] a long time ago, Blanton. Blanton was my idol. Jimmy
Blanton.
Did you ever have a chance to meet him?
Oh, no, I never met him. I just heard him.
Would you practice playing like him?
Well, I never actually tried to play like him, but there was a fellow
called – well, we all called him Hog Mason. I done forgot his name, but
I know we called him Hog Mason. He taught me a lot about the bass, him
and Baby Doo Caston.
This was in the 1930s?
Oh, yes, that was in the ’30s.
You were boxing at the same time?
Yeah.
That must have been hard.
Oh, well, it was, in a way, ’cause I was boxin’, workin’, and playin’, tryin’ to learn how to play the bass, at the same time.
You never hurt your hands, though?
No, no. I hurt my hands in the boxing, but not foolin’ with the bass. [Laughs.]
In the early days, how did you find out that blues sessions were being held? How were you connected with those guys? Well, what happened is – you might remember Tampa Red. Tampa Red used
to live down on 35th and State, right up over a pawn shop down there.
And we’d go down there and listen to him play and sing all the different
ones. Because I could sing harmony, a lot of time I’d be singin’
harmony with him and givin’ the guys different parts. And by being able
to understand harmony, especially while they gettin’ – they had an old
piano in the back, but the piano was never in tune anyway! I could
understand harmony pretty good from the time I was a kid at school, you
know. There was a fellow in the South called Federal Phelps [Leo Phelps]
– I used to sing in a spiritual group with him, called the Union
Jubilee Singers. And he taught me, oh, just about everything it was to
be known about harmony, because I learned about how to blend chords
together in harmony with the spiritual group. And then when I came to
Chicago, there was another group that was singin’ harmony. And I was
singin’ harmony with everybody, so I begin to know quite a bit about the
parts. Were you playing bass too? Oh, no, I wasn’t playin’ bass. I was imitatin’ the bass fiddle, like the old Mills Brothers used to do.
With your voice.
Yeah. Then so when I got over there with Tampa Red and them, every
time somebody would get ready to know what would go here to make it
harmonize, I would always give ’em the the tune with my voice, and
that’s what they would play. It turned out to be pretty good.
Leonard “Baby Doo” Caston
When did the bass work its way into it?
Well, I was fightin’ more than I was doin’ anything else. I used to
be around the gymnasium on 48th and King Drive – they used to call it
South Park then. As I’d be playing around there in the ring, why, this
boy Baby Doo Caston used to come up and play the guitar. Sometime I’d
hop over the ring and we’d stand around there and harmonize and sing
together. And then when I got kind of expelled from the fight game, I
just started to singing with him. That was around 1939. And when I
started singin’ with him, then I never got back to the fight game. Yeah.
When did you start playing bass for a living?
Well, it was around 19 and 39. Well, you see, in fact, Baby Doo made
me a tin-can bass, one of these basses out of tin can, and I used to
play it all over Jewtown with the different guys. We’d pass the hat
around the audience and get a little money. And then we’d go off through
the different neighborhoods there, singin’ like the Ink Spots and the
Mills Brothers and things like that. And I’d always play the tin-can
bass, until I got a job at Jim Martin’s on the West Side, a place called
Martin’s Corner. Because I wanted a bass fiddle, he decided he’d buy me
one. He bought me one, and I paid him back ten dollars a week. It cost
about two-hundred-and-some dollars. And I paid him back until I got it
all paid for. After two or three weeks, Baby Doo Caston used to always
show up. He was a guitar player and
piano player
too. There was another fellow called Hog Mason – he used to come by and
help. And after two or three weeks, why, heck, I could play just about
as good as I can now. I just wasn’t quite as fast, I guess. You started playing on record sessions later on in the 1940s?
Oh, yes. In fact, I was on record sessions in ’39. That was with the
Five Breezes. I was on a thing with the Bumping Boys – this is a Decca
thing with J. Mayo Williams, the Bumping Boys. Then I got on this thing
with the Five Breezes. That was done through Lester Melrose. He was the
one used to be up to Tampa Red’s house all the time. And then from there
– of course, the years had begun to change – we got the Four Jumps of
Jive. That was on Mercury. In fact, that was one of the first things
that Mercury cut. In fact, I think it was the second thing that Mercury
had done cut. And then the Big Three Trio, when we got involved with
Columbia.
Big Three Trio, 1947: Ollie Crawford, Baby Doo Caston, Willie Dixon
You were with them for six or seven years, right?
Oh, yes, about seven years or more. And then during that time I
started running into various ones that was singin’ spiritual things, and
they wanted to get involved in recording. Then I started recording
different things with spiritual groups of different kinds.
You got into the blues a little bit too. Oh, yes. Well, the blues was always there in the beginning, you know.
But what happened when I got to doin’ a lot of
these blues groups – I
played
with Memphis Slim. He and I made that “Rockin’ the House,” “Lend Me
Your Love,” “Darling, I Miss You.” I was on that [in 1947]. That was
with a fellow called Simpson.
You played with most of the great blues guitar players.
Oh, just about all of them.
Do any of them stand out?
From way back, or the later ones?
Either way.
Well, the way-back guitar players was pretty good, just like Big Bill
Broonzy. I liked him. And I liked Tampa, the way he played, because he
had a unique style of his own. Those were among the older guys.
They were mainly acoustic back then.
Oh, yeah, they used to play the acoustic. And then Baby Doo Caston used to play acoustic guitar too.
Did you like playing with Elmore James?
Oh, yeah. Elmo had his own unique style too, you know. Elmo had a
style that most of the time was practically the same thing, to a certain
extent, you know. And then Robert Lockwood, Jr., had a beautiful style
in those days, although he played strictly blues. Of course, today he
kind of mixes it up with jazzy sounds, you know.
Who do you feel were the most creative and innovative guitar players?
Well, did you know a guy called Jody Williams? “Little Joe” – they
called him “Little Joe.” His name was Jody Williams. He had a very
creative style, but he got out of the music.
I wonder why.
Well, I don’t know – various things. Different things happen in your
life when you’re young, and then when you get older different things
happen. But one thing, he got married and it kind of tired him down a
little bit. I think he had a jealous wife, you know. But that Robert
Lockwood, Jr., could play just about anybody’s style, you know. And then
he had things of his own. He could do it today, I believe, because I
think he was one of the main influences of B.B. King also.
What were your early sessions like?
Oh, well, when I first started, I was playin’ the tin can on
sessions. And then after the tin can, I got involved with quite a few of
them because I played with Sonny Boy Williamson – you know, the first
Sonny Boy. And I played a couple of things on a couple of Bill’s
sessions [Big Bill Broonzy]. A lot of those things with Lester Melrose,
you know, was done with the tin can.
What time of the day would the sessions take place and how long would you be there?
Well, most of the time they’d happen in the evening, you know. They’d
start in the early evening and then probably end up at night and like
that.
Would you have one microphone for everybody?
Well, sometime it would be. It all depends, you see, because years
ago they didn’t have all these different tracks that they have in the
studio now. Yeah. And what would happen, they’d put the mike into the
instrument that you was gonna play. They used to wrap cloth around the
bass – put the bass mike down in the bottom of the tailpiece. And then
when you play it, why, it would come right through like an electrified
bass.
Did any of the blues players have unusual recording habits?
Oh, most of the guys had certain habits, but sometime they would have
to change them in order for the various recordings. You know, like the
average guy they do now, like where there’s a break in the music for the
singer or something to come through and sing the punch line, everybody
would jump up and try to fill in this spot, and the guy that would be
singing wouldn’t be heard. This is one of the habits that a lot of the
musicians had then, and they have it now. A lot of times you have to try
to wave ’em down or something to keep them from playing the break line.
You’ve written so many well-known songs.
Mm-hmm.
Would people come to you and ask for songs, or would you write songs with specific singers in mind?
Well, some of them would come to me and ask me for songs, and then
some of them, whenever I find they would be stuck for a song, I’d just
say, “Look, I got a song that I think you can do with all ease, and
it’ll work.” And most of the time, why, they worked.
How would you write songs?
Well, most of the time, if I was writing for an individual, why, I
would kind of quiz the individual and get his feeling and his
expressions and the way that he talked and the way that he sang and the
things that he liked about it, you know. Because the first thing you’d
have to do is try to get something that he liked that you feel that the
public would like at the same time. And this is one of the ways that I
always tried to do. I always tried to get the feeling of the fellow that
was gonna sing this song, and how he felt about the various things of
life that he would be singing about and how he felt about other things
that I was gonna write about, and try to get all these things together
and then match them with the feeling that he thought was best, and
especially the way that he sung and the way that he expressed things.
And I would always work these things kind of in together.
Would they tell you what kind of chord changes they wanted?
Well, no, they didn’t know what kind of chord changes they wanted
themselves. Most of the time what would happen was I would tell them how
to.
This is how you got material together for Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters?
Well, some of these things I did, and some of these things I already
had wrote and I would bring to ’em. Like on the first song that Muddy
made, why, I brought it to him. He was working over on 14th and
National, and I took it over there to him. And he liked it so well – it
was “Hoochie Coochie Man” – that he done it the first time. We went in
the washroom, practiced it a few minutes on his intermission, and he
come right out and done it. And he been doin’ it ever since.
Were the royalties as good back then and as frequent as they are today?
There was no royalties [laughs]. Most of the time, there wasn’t no royalties.
Would you just sell a song?
Well, sometime you would and then sometime you wouldn’t. Sometime you
would think you was gonna – they would always give you a contract
saying they was gonna give you some royalties, but you never got ’em
anyway. Yeah, they probably give you $25, $50, or something when you
first record it. But after that, that would be just about the end of it.
What happened when rock and rollers started covering your songs?
Well, I begin to get a little more royalties out of it, because the
songs got so popular until you’d tell somebody you wrote the song, and
they wouldn’t believe it. And then when you’d go to the recording
company, they would say, “You gonna get a royalty statement at
such-and-such a time.” They’d give you a statement alright, but sometime
there wouldn’t be no money with the statement. Sometime it would be a
little money with the statement. But we didn’t have no definite way of
gettin’ in. And the average lawyer you go to, the recording company
would pay him off to don’t pay you.
What is your opinion of the covers of your songs done by rock and rollers?
Oh, I like them real well, because a lot of the youngsters and
things, I would give ’em ideas about some of the stuff, because there’s
no song that can’t be changed in the varied direction.
What was your impression of Cream’s version of “Spoonful”?
Beautiful, beautiful.
Were you impressed with the guitar work?
Oh, yes. Very much so.
Did any of the rock players ever look you up?
Oh, yes. But most ’em was real young at the time. Just like when
Memphis Slim and I was workin’ in Europe [circa 1962], a lot of the
young artists, they didn’t have no rock around then no more than the
little bit that Chuck Berry had done started, you know. So the kids over
there was all interested in the blues and was askin’ me about how could
they make this in the Chuck Berry style and like this. And I would go
to work, just try to explain it to ’em. Sometime I would put it on tape
for different ones. Different people over there would have my songs. I
sung a lot of different songs and left ’em for ’em, the youngsters, just
to learn, because they seemed to like the blues real well. I would give
them rough ideas about how to go about it, and they’d put it together.
Did you have encounters with the Rolling Stones?
Oh, when they was young, a lot of times. But I didn’t even know – in
fact, they didn’t even know – that they was gonna be the Rolling Stones
themselves. In fact, there was a fellow that I left songs with, he was
telling me about the Rolling Stones. Talkin’ about this group that
called themselves the Rolling Stones, and they was youngsters. Some of
them say they met me at different halls that I was playin’ over there.
There was so many kids over there in London, you know. Memphis Slim and I
was workin’ Piccadilly Square, and kids of all descriptions used to
come in there. We let them in at the back door, where they could hear us
playin’ things, because they didn’t allow when they was too young to
come down front. I don’t know, but some of them used to give us pictures
and all like this. “We gonna sing,” and all like that. And then way
later, I started meetin’ some of these guys. But I wouldn’t know ’em by
their picture, because they were naked-face kids, you know. 10, 12, 11
years old – like that – and then the next time I see him he got hair all
over his face and asking me don’t I remember him. How am I gonna
remember somebody with a naked face when they come up with hair on his
face ten years later, you know. Kid can be 10 years old, and then when
he get 20, boy, he done stretched out and got hair all over his face and
don’t look nothin’ like he used to. And then I hardly looked at the
picture anyway. But once in a while I run into a picture around here and
one of ’em say, “Yeah, this is me! Don’t you remember me?” No, I don’t
remember. But I tell a lie sometime: “Yeah, yeah. I remember.” I
remember somebody givin’ me the picture, but I don’t have the least idea
who it is. Back when you were working as a talent scout, who were some of the players you found?
Oh, I found a lot of different players, you know, at different times.
Like Buddy Guy, of course, and Otis Rush, Magic Sam, Betty Everett, and
folks like that.
Where did you find Buddy Guy?
Well,
Buddy Guy was singin’ at a little old place down on 16th Street. I was
workin’ for the Cobra recording company. I had been working for the
Chess company, and we had done Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley and a few of
the others. Like that John Brim, Shakey Horton, and a few others.
Anyway, when I was working for the Cobra recording company in between,
Cobra didn’t have no artists, nobody but Arbee Stidham. And he [Eli
Toscano] would tell everybody he wanted to find other artists. Well,
some of these artists had called me at different times when I was
workin’ with Chess, and so I started contactin’ ’em. I contacted otis
Rush, and I made “I Can’t Quit You Baby,” which was a big number. Then I
contact Buddy Guy. But Buddy Guy, at that time, he couldn’t keep time.
And he tried to do a lot of B.B. King-style things, so I was trying to
get him away from the B.B. King style. I give him this song about “I Sit
and Cry and Sing the Blues.” But he didn’t do a very good job on it,
you know.
And then I got involved well with this Rev. Ballinger and all these
different fellows that was singin’ in spiritual groups. Then Betty
Everett, one day she was comin’ by the place, just walkin’ along and
lookin’. I walked out and asked her did she sing, and she said, “A
little bit.” She said she sung in church. I got her in there and started
playin’ around with her on the piano, and she sound pretty good with
her voice, so I made a couple of songs for her that turned out pretty
good. And then this boy, Little Willie Foster, he had had a record that
come out before with some company, and I done some things with him.
Jackie Brentson – different ones, you know. And it was always somebody
askin’ me to write songs for ’em, but whenever I had a chance, I would
just write songs. And if I thought certain people could do ’em, those
are the ones I’d let have them. Those that I felt like couldn’t do ’em –
a lot of my songs I don’t give to certain people, because I don’t feel
like it’s their type of thing. This is one of the reasons I feel like I
been lucky enough to get quite a few of the things into the public,
because anybody can’t do any song. I mean, especially according to the
way they have adjusted themselves to singin’. But then you can find some
people that’s kind of flexible enough that they can understand what
you’re tryin’ to do.
Would you use your bass when you compose?
Well, sometime I would, and sometime I wouldn’t. Most of the time I
get a thing in my mind. I get the words that I would like to say and the
expression that I would like to have them said in to get the best
results. And I would like for these things to be a part of life, because
I’ve always felt like blues was the facts of life being expressed to
other people that didn’t understand the other fellow’s condition. So by
feelin’ like this, it gave me the chance to express the feelings and the
things that I felt like the people would like to say or want to say or
would like for other people to know. And so this is the way I mostly
wrote my songs. And after you get words – or vice versa, you know – then
you can put certain tone qualities to it that would fit the words. And
then at the same time, sometime you got better tone qualities that you
would like to use, so you would have to find words that fit these tone
qualities. One would make the other stick out, just like a picture on
the wall. If you have a good background, it’s a good thing to put the
picture on of a certain color or a certain kind. And if you’ve got a
good picture, you wanna have a good background. You got a good
background, you want a good picture. But you want it to contrast which
each other where one will stick out from the other, and will attract the
attention to the public.
Would you usually hear the lick first, or would you hear the words?
Well, it all depends. You don’t hear ’em – you make ’em. In
other words, you make the words. Say, for an instance, where’s a guy
that’s in a very good condition and he’s happy. And it’s something that
made him happy. He’s in love, and he feels a certain way about a girl or
something. You know these are the things that he would want to say. He
would want to say, “I love you,” or he would do anything for her, like
this. So you get these words together in some kind of poetic form where
they can be properly understood. And then you find the music to go with
it. Then the other way around, some fellow would come along with a good
tune. You might have a good tune in your mind that you want to put the
proper words to it, and you have to find the words to go with this
particular tune. So it works both ways – it all depends on what position
you’re in and the way you feel about it.
Which tunes of yours are you most proud of?
Oh, frankly, I have a new song that I really think – in fact, I have
several new songs that I think quite a bit of. And it look like most of
the time it’s the latest song that I’m involved in that I seem to be
more proud of than the others. Because it builds on the facts of life
that exist today. And then these various things that exist
today, it’s been a great controversial subject between the majority of
the public wanting to do one thing and what they consider right and
wrong is another thing, and what the world considers right and wrong
[is] another thing. So you just have to decide what’s what, and bring
out the truth in it.
I know that just about all of my life it’s been a controversial thing
about religious activities and what’s gonna happen after you die. And
the pie in the sky, and whether you’re gonna have something when you
die, or whether you ain’t gonna have something when you die. But nobody
know about all these things being true, because ain’t nobody been able
to prove it. Since nobody’s actually been able to prove it, what I have
done, I kind of got these ideas together and kind of put them together
in a little song that I have now called “Pie in the Sky When You Die.”
Now, some of the words to this song, it speaks for itself. It’s got a
very attractive musical thing that I put with it. It says something
like,
Hey, you better hear what I say You better have your fun before you get away Get you a straight or get you a gay Get you a man or a woman, but have it your way I’ll tell you why – it could be a lie It may not be no pie up in the sky when you die
Well, you see, nobody knows about these kind of things. Everybody
wants to enjoy themselves anyway, but a lot of people are afraid to take
a chance because they feel like their reward is in the sky or when they
die. Or hereafter – you know what I mean? So puttin’ it together like
this, that means you better go on and enjoy yourself because you don’t
know for sure what’s true. So that’s why I built it like that by putting
these things together. Now, this is very easy for you, see, when you
explain it. And then as you go through these words and sing it, it will
make the average individual think. Just like in the second verse of it,
says,
Hey, a lot of crooks are gone, a lot of politicians – Folks like Jimmy Jones or Al Capone You say you’re goin’ to heaven, but it look like hell Because they put you in a hole almost deep as a well I’ll tell you why – because it could be a lie May not be no pie up in the sky when you die You know? Wait – I put the wrong ending to that. The second verse supposed to say, Hey, a lot of crooks are gone, a lot of politicians – And even Jimmy Jones If they get to heaven before you do It may not be nothin’ left for you I’ll tell you why – it could be a lie It may not be no pie in the sky when you die
Well, you see, I always make three or four verses, and sometimes I
get ’em kind of fouled up there. But anyway, then it have a middle to
it. You see, years ago, blues didn’t have middles in them. People didn’t
want ’em. People used to try to brand blues as always a 12-bar thing,
but after I started working with these various blues things, I found out
that it’s earthly impossible for you to give a complete story with all
the facts of it in 12 bars like they was doin’ it, so I started creatin’
middles and everything else to these various songs in order to give a
complete story. So in the middle of this particular song, it says,
How do you know if these things are true And no one came back to prove it to you So if they got a lot of gold with angels and wings By the time you get to heaven there may not be a thing Then it goes back to: Hey, you don’t know if it’s true You better treat me like I treat you You say you’re going to heaven but it look like hell Because they put you in a hole almost deep as a well I’ll tell you why – it could be a lie It may not be no pie up in the sky when you die
Well, when you do these songs like this, it make the average individual think.
Because they want to think like this in the first place. But they’re
afraid to think like it, because some of them fear after-death and some
of them don’t know what they think. You know? So at least it gives them a
decision to make one way or the other, because nothin’ have been
actually proved. And this is what about the blues, you see, is the blues
explain the facts just like are, whether they are right, wrong, or in
between. That’s very well said.
Thank you.
When was the best time for blues?
Well, I think if the blues are properly exposed, the time is better
now, because the people today have a better understanding of the blues
and the blues are being better exposed. People are interested enough to
want to know what the blues are. Most of the time, people have never
actually heard. They always reached the decision that the blues was just
a bunch of sad music and somebody cryin’ for the lack of something. But
it’s not that. It’s the idea that the blues are the facts of life,
whether it’s good, bad, or in between. But when people reach decisions
on things that somebody else have said, without any experience, they can
reach any kind of decision because somebody hand it to ’em. But when
you begin to have certain experience of your own, and begin to
know that these are the facts of life, then you can look at just about
any blues song and see where these facts existed with certain people at
certain times about certain things. That make you understand why they
sung and do sing and are very emotional about such things as the blues.
It’s not an imagination – it’s a fact. When you were young in the late 1920s, did you hear the blues of Mississippi John Hurt and guys like that?
Well, I heard a lot of blues, as far as that concerned. I heard a lot
of spirituals. But you know, they didn’t have very many things on – in
fact, when I was real young, they didn’t even have no radio. But after
they started having radio, they just put everything on that for
entertainment that they thought they’d like, like the Mills Brothers and
church songs or anything, just to entertain the people. They didn’t
have no definite program of any kind, only what they could get –
especially in the South there. Whatever they could get, they put it on
there.
Did you ever try to play guitar, Willie?
Oh, yes. I played a couple of times when I was in Europe. When we
first started the American Folk Blues Festival, I used to do some folk
song things – mostly things I made of my own.
How have the roles of the guitar and bass changed in the blues?
Mainly changed quite a bit, because most of the time years ago it was
mostly acoustic. And this acoustic style couldn’t give you the long
phrases and the long slurs like they do when it become electrical. And
then on top of that, with the electrical equipment, you can get a lot of
different sounds to emphasize various things that you couldn’t do with
an acoustic. Mm hmm.
How has your own style changed?
Well, from a kid, just like I was explainin’, when I was a youngster
they considered blues as just a 12-bar thing, and most of the blues was
done like 12 bars. Done like Bessie Smith and all those kinds of things.
How about in terms of the way your hands move on the fingerboard?
Oh, my style hasn’t changed very much. But sometime I found out that
doin’ certain things in certain places can give you a better effect to
attract the attention and put a better musical sound behind what you are
doin’ for expression. You see, one brings out the other. The sound
brings out the music and the music brings out the sound when they are
working correct. Because one puts you in the mood for the other.
Do you play in styles besides blues?
Well, I can play just about anything, as far as that’s concerned, but
I hang onto the blues because I feel like the blues is my heritage.
Now, on top of that, it’s my people’s music through many generations.
And I feel like, in fact, it’s necessary that these things should be
because most of the things that was created by black people have been
either distinguished, forgotten, or are out of proportion with
everything that’s happening today. And I feel like it’s necessary for
the history of the blues to be known – from where it come and how it is
and what it’s for.
You stand at the crossroads of blues. You can look back and see
the acoustic era, and you can look more forward and see the electric.
What do you see as the future?
Well, frankly I feel like blues will develop more than any other
style of music, because as the people learn more about what the blues
are about, they’ll begin to write more about it and think more about the
facts of life. And by being the facts of life, these are the things
that people are interested in. Most people are interested in life more
than they are death because they are living life, and they expect death.
But they think of life first, because if there don’t be no life, there
can’t be no death.
Does the thought of death bother you?
No, neither one of ’em bother me. When I was a youngster, people had
brainwashed me into believing me a lot of different things that they
didn’t know themselves. But when I wasn’t able to think as well for
myself as I am today, well, naturally, I kept my mind involved on these
types of things because that was the only thing I was around the people
talkin’ about then. But once you learn to think for yourself and
understand for yourself, you’ll find out the other fellow that’s tryin’
to give you information about something don’t know more about it than
you. So then you start using your own judgment.
Besides Freddie, do any of your children play the blues?
Oh, yeah, all of ’em play if they want to. And sometimes they do and
sometime they don’t. I have a boy called Butch – he plays very good
piano and he plays very good blues and other things too. He play at
church. He played out to the Wise Fool with me last night. Yeah.
Do any moments stand out as highpoints of your life in music?
Well, that part has never actually bothered me about the best,
because to determine the best, you would have to be done in certain
areas, you know? Because the best in one area would be one thing, and
the best in another area would be another. It all depends on how much
experience and what’s been goin’ down in that particular area.
What do you look forward to in the future?
I’m lookin’ in the future for bigger and better blues. Yeah. And
bigger and better understanding among people themselves. And I know if
they listen to the blues, they gonna get the true facts of life without
all the fiction involved. And it’s got to create better understanding
among everybody.
One more think I’d like to know before I go. You came from a family with 14 kids, right?
Yeah.
And you have 14 of your own?
Right.
How did you ever find the time to have such a career in music? [Laughs.] Well, that’s the thing about it. When you involved in the
facts of life, that is the facts of life – people! Yeah. People have to
be born, just like everything else. Thanks a million.
In June 1960, Willie Dixon went into the studio with Howlin’ Wolf
to play bass on some songs he had written for the gravel-voiced Blues
icon. They cut ‘Wang-Dang Doodle’, ‘Back Door Man’ and ‘Spoonful’, all
Blues classics that would have guaranteed their writer legendary status
if they were produced in one lifetime, not one session. Willie Dixon
redefined the word ‘prolific’ when it came to writing great Blues songs.
Down
in Vicksburg MS, the young Willie Dixon was one of 14 children born to
Daisy Dixon, who somehow still found time to write and recite her own
poetry. This talent passed on to her son, and when he found he could not
sell copies of his own poems, he tried setting them to music. They
didn’t sell either, but Willie never lost that idea.
Daisy Dixon’s devotion to the Baptist Church led to Willie joining the
Union Jubilee singers, where he learned harmony and, in time, developed
his fine bass voice. After a couple of run-ins with the Law, Willie
developed his physical prowess by unloading steamboats in the docks at
Vicksburg, where the Yazoo river joins the mighty Mississippi at the
apex of the Delta. Willie began sparring with local boxers around the waterfront, and when the 21-year-old set out for Chicago in 1936, he was trying to make it as a boxer rather than a Bluesman.
Willie
was Golden Gloves heavyweight Champion of Illinois in 1937 and turned
pro, but after four fights he got in a brawl with his manager over
money. Unfortunately, it happened in the Boxing Commissioner’s office
and a lengthy ban meant the end of that career. One of the guys at the
gym was singer and guitarist ‘Baby Doo’ Caston, and the pair began
busking together before organising a band. ‘The Five Breezes’ had Willie
on bass and they cut some tracks for Bluebird, but when America joined
the War, Willie was drafted. He declared himself a conscientious
objector and was jailed for a year. Gaining his freedom, Willie joined
The Four Jumps of Jive, before teaming up with Caston again in The Big
Three, who recorded a couple of Willie’s songs for the Bullet label and
pulled a good following on the club scene. At an after-hours jam at the
Macomba Lounge in 1948, the club owners Phil and Leonard Chess offered
Willie a job at their new studio. They were impressed with Willie’s
bass playing, his arranging skills and his song-writing, but he often
found himself packing records and pushing a broom too. Eddie Boyd
recorded some of Willie’s songs, including the hit ‘Third Degree’ and
Chess released a couple of songs under Willie’s own name in the early
50’s, but the game-changer came in February 1954.
The Chess recording of ‘Hoochie Coochie Man’;
Muddy Waters recording of Willie’s ‘Hoochie-Coochie Man’ was a landmark event. Howlin’ Wolf’s ‘Evil’, Little Walter‘s ‘My Babe’, Willie Mabon‘s ‘Seventh Son’ and Bo Diddley‘s
‘Pretty Thing’ established Willie’s composing reputation as the main
man in Chicago Blues. Dixon said, “When I work with an artist, I like to
hear them and get a feeling about the style that people like them to
sing. I could make up a song on the spot sometimes, that would fit the
individual…” In his day-job as a member of the Chess house-band, Willie
played on the records of Muddy, Wolf, Walter, Diddley, Chuck Berry, Lowell Fulson, Otis Rush,Koko Taylor
and a host of others. In 1957, a bust-up over money led to Willie
quitting Chess to join Eli Toscano’s Cobra label, where he produced some
outstanding West-side Blues with Magic Sam, Otis Rush and the young Buddy Guy.
Willie’s finances were not improved when well-known gambler Toscano was
taken out of circulation, so he sorted out a deal and went back to
Chess. The hits kept on coming, with the monsters in that Wolf session,
followed by ‘Little Red Rooster’, ‘Ain’t Superstitious’, ‘Can’t Judge a
Book by Its Cover’, ‘Tail Dragger’, ‘I Just Want to Make Love to You’
and many more.
Some Chicago legends strut their stuff;
In the early sixties, Willie’s songs were powering the British Blues Boom,
and he became involved with the American Folk/Blues Festival, booking
the cream of Blues performers to go on extended tours of Europe. As well
as appearing himself, he set up the American end of the business and
his Ghana Booking Agency managed the careers of many artists including Memphis Slim and JB Lenoir.
Aware of how he had been exploited by Chess, he set up his own
publishing company. In the late sixties, Willie resurrected his
performing career by forming The Chicago All-Stars and recording an
album of his best known songs, ‘I Am the Blues’. Legal action to recover
some of his royalties, including suing Led Zeppelin, gave him the
resources to set up the Blues Factory studio and the Yambo record label.
Willie continued to tour and record, but ongoing health problems with
diabetes led to him having a leg amputated in 1977. The Blues Heaven
Foundation was created by Willie in 1982, to help old Bluesmen regain
copyright of their work, fight for unpaid royalties and also to provide
musical instruments for schoolkids. Willie also got involved in the
movies and scored the soundtrack to ‘The Color of Money’. He moved to
California and his 1988 album ‘Hidden Charms’ won a Grammy, and the
following year his autobiography was also called, ‘I Am the Blues’.
Willie was still appearing with the Chicago All-Stars, although in his
final years he was only a part-time member. He died in his sleep in
1992.
With
his fine deep voice and his immaculate playing, Willie Dixon had all
the equipment to be a star of Blues music, but his true talents were
much bigger than mere ‘stardom’. He had the rare ability to condense the
emotional energy that made the Blues into the huge cultural force that
it has become, into that short but telling phrase that rings true in the
ears of the listener. When Muddy sang, “Everybody knows I’m here!” he
announced himself to millions; the song made Muddy famous, but the words
belonged to Willie.
William James Dixon (July 1, 1915 – January 29, 1992) was an American blues musician, vocalist, songwriter, arranger and record producer.[2] He was proficient in playing both the upright bass
and the guitar, and sang with a distinctive voice, but he is perhaps
best known as one of the most prolific songwriters of his time. Next to Muddy Waters, Dixon is recognized as the most influential person in shaping the post–World War II sound of the Chicago blues.[3] Dixon's songs have been recorded by countless musicians in many
genres as well as by various ensembles in which he participated. A short
list of his most famous compositions includes "Hoochie Coochie Man", "I Just Want to Make Love to You", "Little Red Rooster", "My Babe", "Spoonful", and "You Can't Judge a Book by the Cover". These songs were written during the peak years of Chess Records, from 1950 to 1965, and were performed by Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Little Walter, and Bo Diddley; they influenced a generation of musicians worldwide.[4] Dixon was an important link between the blues and rock and roll, working with Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley in the late 1950s. His songs have been covered by some of the most successful musicians of the past sixty years including Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix. Jeff Beck, Cream, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones and Steppenwolf all featured at least one of his songs on their debut albums, a measure of his influence on rock music.
Dixon was born in Vicksburg, Mississippi, on July 1, 1915.[2]
His mother, Daisy, often rhymed things she said, a habit her son
imitated. At the age of seven, young Dixon became an admirer of a band
that featured pianist Little Brother Montgomery. He sang his first song at Springfield Baptist Church at the age of four[5] Dixon was first introduced to blues
when he served time on prison farms in Mississippi as a young teenager.
Later in his teens, he learned how to sing harmony from a local
carpenter, Theo Phelps, who led a gospel
quintet, the Union Jubilee Singers, in which Dixon sang bass; the group
regularly performed on the Vicksburg radio station WQBC.[6] He began adapting his poems into songs and even sold some to local music groups.
Adulthood
Dixon
left Mississippi for Chicago in 1936. A man of considerable stature,
standing 6 and a half feet tall and weighing over 250 pounds, he took up
boxing, at which he was successful, winning the Illinois State Golden GlovesHeavyweight Championship (Novice Division) in 1937.[7] He became a professional boxer and worked briefly as Joe Louis's sparring partner, but after four fights he left boxing in a dispute with his manager over money.
Dixon met Leonard Caston
at a boxing gym, where they would harmonize at times. Dixon performed
in several vocal groups in Chicago, but it was Caston that persuaded him
to pursue music seriously.[8]
Caston built him his first bass, made of a tin can and one string.
Dixon's experience singing bass made the instrument familiar.[5] He also learned to play the guitar. In 1939, Dixon was a founding member of the Five Breezes, with
Caston, Joe Bell, Gene Gilmore and Willie Hawthorne. The group blended
blues, jazz, and vocal harmonies, in the mode of the Ink Spots. Dixon's progress on the upright bass came to an abrupt halt with the advent of World War II, when he refused induction into military service as a conscientious objector and was imprisoned for ten months.[2]
He refused to go to war because he would not fight for a nation in
which institutionalized racism and racist laws were prevalent.[9]
After the war, he formed a group named the Four Jumps of Jive. He then
reunited with Caston, forming the Big Three Trio, which went on to
record for Columbia Records.
In
his later years, Dixon became a tireless ambassador for the blues and a
vocal advocate for its practitioners, founding the Blues Heaven
Foundation, which works to preserve the legacy of the blues and to
secure copyrights and royalties for blues musicians who were exploited
in the past. Speaking with the simple eloquence that was a hallmark of
his songs, Dixon claimed, "The blues are the roots and the other musics
are the fruits. It's better keeping the roots alive, because it means
better fruits from now on. The blues are the roots of all American
music. As long as American music survives, so will the blues."
In 1977, unhappy with the small royalties paid by Chess's publishing
company, Arc Music, Dixon and Muddy Waters sued Arc and, with the
proceeds from the settlement, founded their own publishing company,
Hoochie Coochie Music.[14] In 1987, Dixon reached an out-of-court settlement with the rock
band Led Zeppelin after suing for plagiarism in the band's use of his
music in "Bring It On Home" and lyrics from his composition "You Need Love" (1962) in the band's recording of "Whole Lotta Love".[15] Dixon's health increasingly deteriorated during the 1970s and the 1980s, primarily as a result of long-term diabetes. Eventually one of his legs was amputated.[2] Dixon was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame in 1980, in the inaugural session of the Blues Foundation's ceremony.[16] In 1989 he received a Grammy Award for his album Hidden Charms.[17]
Death and legacy
Dixon died of heart failure[18] on January 29, 1992, in Burbank, California,[2] and was buried in Burr Oak Cemetery, in Alsip, Illinois. After his death, his widow, Marie Dixon, took over the Blues Heaven Foundation and moved the headquarters to Chess Records.[19] Dixon was posthumously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in the category Early Influences (pre-rock) in 1994.[20] On April 28, 2013, both Dixon and his grandson Alex Dixon were inducted into the Chicago Blues Hall of Fame.[21] The actor and comedian Cedric the Entertainer portrayed Dixon in Cadillac Records, a 2008 film based on the early history of Chess Records.[22][23]
In addition to songwriting, arranging, and producing, Dixon also contributed to recording sessions on double bass.[2] However, as electric bass became dominant in the 1960s, his role as a sideman declined.[2] Albums on which he appears include those with:
Chuck Berry
Acacia Lawn, lot 18, grave 1, Burr Oak Cemetery, Alsip, Illinois. Wilson, Scott. Resting Places: The Burial Sites of More Than 14,000 Famous Persons (3rd ed.). 2 (Kindle location 12459). McFarland & Company. Kindle edition.
Trager, Oliver (2004). Keys to the Rain: The Definitive Bob Dylan Encyclopedia. Billboard Books. pp. 298–299. ISBN0-8230-7974-0.
Dicaire, David (1999). Blues Singers: Biographies of 50 Legendary Artists of the Early 20th Century. McFarland. p. 87. ISBN0-7864-0606-2.
Long, Worth (1995). "The Wisdom of the Blues—Defining Blues as the True Facts of Life: An
Interview with Willie Dixon." African American Review 29.2. pp. 207–212. JSTOR. Web. October 2, 2015.
Dixon, Willie; Snowden, Don (1990). I Am the Blues: The Willie Dixon Story. Boston: Da Capo Press. pp. 25, 34. ISBN0306804158, ISBN9780306804151.
Snowden, Don (1997).
Eder, Bruce (2010). "Leonard Caston". Biography of Leonard Caston. Rovi Corporation. Retrieved May 2, 2010.
Baird, Jim (2014). "Book Review: Willie Dixon: Preacher of the Blues." Journal of American Folklore 127: 100–101. ProQuest.Web. October 3, 2015.
Dixon, Willie; Snowden, Don (1990). I Am the Blues: The Willie Dixon Story. Boston: Da Capo Press. pp. 103–112. ISBN0-306-80415-8.
Kofi Natambu, editor of and contributor to Sound Projections, is a writer, poet, cultural critic, and political journalist whose poetry, essays, criticism, reviews, and journalism have appeared in many literary magazines, journals, newspapers, and anthologies. He has written extensively about music as a critic and historian for many publications, including the Black Scholar, Downbeat, Solid Ground: A New World Journal, Detroit Metro Times, KONCH, the Panopticon Review,Black Renaissance Noire, the Village Voice, the City Sun (NYC), the Poetry Project Newsletter (NYC), and the African American Review. He is the author of a biography Malcolm X: His Life & Work (Alpha Books) and two books of poetry: The Melody Never Stops (Past Tents Press) and Intervals (Post Aesthetic Press). He was the founder and editor of Solid Ground: A New World Journal, a national quarterly magazine of the arts, culture, and politics and the editor of a literary anthology Nostalgia for the Present (Post Aesthetic Press). Natambu has read his work throughout the country and given many lectures and workshops at academic and arts institutions. He has taught American literature, literary theory and criticism, cultural history and criticism, film studies, political science, creative writing, philosophy, critical theory, and music history and criticism (Jazz, Blues, R&B, Hip Hop) at many universities and colleges. He was also a curator in the Education Department of Detroit’s Museum of African American History. Born in Detroit, Michigan, Natambu currently lives in Berkeley, California with his wife Chuleenan.
By the end of the 1960s, Dixon
was eager to try his hand as a performer again, a career that had been
interrupted when he'd gone to work for Chess as a producer. He recorded
an album of his best-known songs, I Am the Blues, for Columbia Records, and organized a touring band, the Chicago Blues All Stars,
to play concerts in Europe. Suddenly, in his fifties, he began making a
major name for himself on-stage for the first time in his career.
Around this time, Dixon
began to have grave doubts about the nature of the songwriting contract
that he had with Chess' publishing arm, Arc Music. He was seeing
precious little money from songwriting, despite the recording of hit
versions of such Dixon songs as "Spoonful" by Cream.
He had never seen as much money as he was entitled to as a songwriter,
but during the 1970s he began to understand just how much money he'd
been deprived of, by design or just plain negligence on the part of the
publisher doing its job on his behalf.
Arc Music had sued Led Zeppelin for copyright infringement over "Bring It on Home" on Led Zeppelin II, saying that it was Dixon's song, and won a settlement that Dixon never saw any part of until his manager did an audit of Arc's accounts. Dixon and Muddy Waters
would later file suit against Arc Music to recover royalties and the
ownership of their copyrights. Additionally, many years later Dixon brought suit against Led Zeppelin for copyright infringement over "Whole Lotta Love" and its resemblance to Dixon's "You Need Love." Both cases resulted in out-of-court settlements that were generous to the songwriter.
The 1980s saw Dixon
as the last survivor of the Chess blues stable and he began working
with various organizations to help secure song copyrights on behalf of
blues songwriters who, like himself, had been deprived of revenue during
previous decades. In 1988, Dixon became the first producer/songwriter to be honored with a boxed set collection, when MCA Records released Willie Dixon: The Chess Box, which included several rare Dixon sides as well as the most famous recordings of his songs by Chess' stars. The following year, Dixon published I Am the Blues (Da Capo Press), his autobiography, written in association with Don Snowden.
![La Bamba [Original Motion Picture Soundtrack]](https://cps-static.rovicorp.com/3/JPG_250/MI0003/591/MI0003591284.jpg?partner=allrovi.com)
Dixon continued performing, and was also called in as a producer on movie soundtracks such as Gingerale Afternoon and La Bamba, producing the work of his old stablemate Bo Diddley. By that time, Dixon was regarded as something of an elder statesman, composer, and spokesperson of American blues. Dixon
eventually began suffering from increasingly poor health, and lost a
leg to diabetes. He died peacefully in his sleep early in 1992. 
Dixon signed with Chess Records
as a recording artist, but he began performing less, being more
involved with administrative tasks for the label. By 1951, he was a
full-time employee at Chess, where he acted as producer, talent scout, session musician and staff songwriter. He was also a producer for the Chess subsidiary Checker Records.
His relationship with Chess was sometimes strained, but he stayed with
the label from 1948 to the early 1960s. During this time Dixon's output
and influence were prodigious. From late 1956 to early 1959, he worked
in a similar capacity for Cobra Records, for which he produced early singles for Otis Rush, Magic Sam, and Buddy Guy.[10] He later recorded for Bluesville Records.[11] From the late 1960s until the mid-1970s, Dixon ran his own record label, Yambo Records, and two subsidiary labels, Supreme and Spoonful. He released his 1971 album, Peace?, on Yambo and also singles by McKinley Mitchell, Lucky Peterson and others.[12]
When did the bass work its way into it? 
piano player
too. There was another fellow called Hog Mason – he used to come by and
help. And after two or three weeks, why, heck, I could play just about
as good as I can now. I just wasn’t quite as fast, I guess.
Big Three Trio, 1947: Ollie Crawford, Baby Doo Caston, Willie Dixon
these blues groups – I
played
with Memphis Slim. He and I made that “Rockin’ the House,” “Lend Me
Your Love,” “Darling, I Miss You.” I was on that [in 1947]. That was
with a fellow called Simpson.
Besides Freddie, do any of your children play the blues? 
