SOUND PROJECTIONS
AN ONLINE QUARTERLY MUSIC MAGAZINE
EDITOR: KOFI NATAMBU
FALL, 2021
VOLUME TEN NUMBER THREE
NANCY WILSON
Featuring the Musics and Aesthetic Visions of:
NANCY WILSON DONALD HARRISON
(October 2-8)
CHICO FREEMAN
(October 9-15)
BEN WILLIAMS
(October 16-22)
MISSY ELLIOTT
(October 23-29)
SHEMEKIA COPELAND
(October 30-November 5)
VON FREEMAN
(November 6-12)
DAVID BAKER
(November 13-19)
RUTHIE FOSTER
(November 20-26)
VICTORIA SPIVEY
(November 27-December 3)
ANTONIO HART
(December 4-10)
GEORGE ‘HARMONICA’ SMITH
(December 11-17)
JAMISON ROSS
(December 18-24)
https://www.allmusic.com/artist/shemekia-copeland-mn0000026803/biography
Shemekia Copeland
(b. April 10, 1979)
Artist Biography by Steve Huey
Projecting a maturity beyond her years, blues singer Shemekia Copeland began making a splash in her own right before she was even out of her teens. Copeland fashioned herself as a powerful, soul-inflected shouter in the tradition of Koko Taylor and Etta James, yet also proved capable of a subtler range of emotions. Her 1998 Alligator debut, Turn the Heat Up!, featured a career-elevating version of "Ghetto Child," a classic by her father, renowned Texas blues guitarist Johnny Copeland, that has been part of her performance repertoire ever since. She released three more acclaimed rough-and-rowdy recordings that decade before revealing a more nuanced, slow-burning persona on Never Going Back in 2009. Over her next two albums, 2012's 33 1/3 and 2015's Outskirts of Love, she became not only a formidable singer but an influential stylist. By the time of 2018's America's Child, she had transformed herself into an artist who could inhabit virtually any genre of music without sacrificing the power and passion that initially established her reputation.
Copeland was born in Harlem in 1979, and her father encouraged her to sing from the start, even bringing her up on-stage at the Cotton Club when she was just eight. She began to pursue a singing career in earnest at age 16, when her father's health began to decline due to heart disease; he took Shemekia on tour with him as his opening act, which helped establish her name on the blues circuit. She landed a record deal with Alligator, which issued her debut album, Turn the Heat Up!, in 1998 when she was just 19 (sadly, her father didn't live to see the occasion).
While the influences on Copeland's style were crystal clear, the record was met with enthusiastic reviews praising its energy and passion. Marked as a hot young newcomer to watch, she toured the blues festival circuit in America and Europe, and landed a fair amount of publicity. Her second album, Wicked, was released in 2000 and featured a duet with one of her heroes, early R&B diva Ruth Brown. Wicked earned Copeland a slew of W.C. Handy Blues Award nominations and she walked off with three: Song of the Year, Blues Album of the Year, and Contemporary Female Artist of the Year. The follow-up record, Talking to Strangers, was produced by legendary pianist Dr. John and featured songs that she proudly claimed were her best yet. The Soul Truth, produced by Steve Cropper, was issued by Alligator Records in 2005. Never Going Back followed in 2009 from Telarc Blues and was produced by the Wood Brothers' Oliver Wood. 33 1/3 appeared in 2012 and was again produced by Wood and issued by Telarc.
Copeland returned to Alligator for the release of 2015's Outskirts of Love, which featured guest appearances from Robert Randolph, Alvin Youngblood Hart, and Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top. The album was nominated for a Grammy in the Best Blues Album category. In 2017, Copeland gave birth to a son and, deeply inspired by the experience, she shifted direction. She chose to record in Nashville and enlisted producer/guitarist Will Kimbrough -- who in turn enlisted guests who included John Prine, Mary Gauthier, Emmylou Harris, Steve Cropper, and more. With guidance from Kimbrough, Copeland dug deep and completed a resonant program of soul, Americana, blues, and country with 2018's America's Child. Kimbrough returned as producer for 2020's Uncivil War, 12 songs that mixed political and social commentary with more personal themes; guest artists included Jason Isbell, Steve Cropper, and Duane Eddy.
https://www.shemekiacopeland.com/biography
BIO
“Shemekia Copeland is a powerhouse, a superstar…She can do no wrong” –Rolling Stone
“Shemekia Copeland’s voice is rich, soulful and totally commanding…authoritative, passionate and raw” –MOJO
“Copeland provides a soundtrack for contemporary America…powerful, ferocious, clear-eyed and hopeful…She’s in such control of her voice that she can scream at injustices before she soothes with loving hope. It sends shivers up your spine.” –Living Blues
With a recording career that began in 1998 at age 18, award-winning vocalist Shemekia Copeland has grown to become one of the most talented and passionately candid artists on today’s roots music scene. Her riveting new album, Uncivil War, builds on the musically and lyrically adventurous territory she’s been exploring for over a decade, blending blues, R&B and Americana into a sound that is now hers alone. The soulful and uncompromising Uncivil War tackles the problems of contemporary American life head on, with nuance, understanding, and a demand for change. It also brings Copeland’s fiercely independent, sultry R&B fire to songs more personal than political. NPR Music calls Shemekia “authoritative” and “confrontational” with “punchy defiance and potent conviction. It’s hard to imagine anyone staking a more convincing claim to the territory she’s staked out—a true hybrid of simmering, real-talking spirit and emphatic, folkie- and soul-style statement-making.”
Uncivil War—recorded in Nashville with award-winning producer and musician Will Kimbrough at the helm—is a career-defining album for three-time Grammy nominee Copeland. With songs addressing gun violence (Apple Pie And A .45), civil rights (the Staple Singers-esque message song, Walk Until I Ride), lost friends (the Dr. John tribute Dirty Saint), bad love (Junior Parker’s In The Dark) as well as good (Love Song, by her father, legendary bluesman Johnny Clyde Copeland), Uncivil War is far-reaching, soul-searching and timeless. Guests on Uncivil War include Americana superstar Jason Isbell, legendary guitarist Steve Cropper, rising guitar star Christone “Kingfish” Ingram, rocker Webb Wilder, rock icon Duane Eddy, mandolin wizard Sam Bush, dobro master Jerry Douglas, and The Orphan Brigade providing background vocals.
Among the most striking songs on Uncivil War is the true, torn-from-history story, Clotilda’s On Fire. It tells of the very last slave ship to arrive in America (in Mobile Bay, Alabama) in 1859, 50 years after the slave trade was banned. The ship—burned and sunk by the captain to destroy the evidence—was finally discovered in 2019. The song—featuring Alabama native Jason Isbell playing the most ferocious blues guitar of his career—is a hair-raising look at living American history delivered with power, tenderness, and jaw-dropping intensity.
Another stand-out song is the topical title track, a courageous plea for unity in a time of disunion. The song is simultaneously challenging and comforting, as Shemekia delivers Uncivil War with passion and insight about the chaos and uncertainty in the world while still finding light in the darkness and hope for the future. Rolling Stone praised it as, “Blues queen Shemekia Copeland’s rootsy message song about the divided states of America. Her gospel-tinged vocal is there to soothe and defuse, reminding us that it’s time to listen to one another and, ultimately, come together.”
When Shemekia first broke on the scene with her groundbreaking Alligator Records debut CD Turn The Heat Up, she instantly became a blues and R&B force to be reckoned with. News outlets from The New York Times to CNN praised Copeland’s talent, larger-than-life personality, dynamic, authoritative voice and true star power. With each subsequent release, Copeland’s music had evolved. From her debut through 2005’s The Soul Truth, Shemekia earned eight Blues Music Awards, a host of Living Blues Awards (including the prestigious 2010 Blues Artist Of The Year) and more accolades from fans, critics and fellow musicians. 2000’s Wicked received a Grammy nomination. Two successful releases on Telarc (including 2012’s Grammy-nominated 33 1/3) sealed her reputation as a fearless and soulful singer.
When Copeland returned to Alligator Records in 2015 with the Grammy-nominated, Blues Music Award-winning Outskirts Of Love, she continued to broaden her musical vision, melding blues with more rootsy, Americana sounds. With her soaked-in-blues vocals at the forefront, she extended her lyrical reach, singing substantial new material and reinventing songs previously recorded by artists including ZZ Top and Creedence Clearwater Revival. NPR’s All Things Considered said, “Copeland embodies the blues with her powerful vocal chops and fearless look at social issues.” No Depression declared, “Copeland pierces your soul. This is how you do it, and nobody does it better than Shemekia Copeland.”
With 2018’s America’s Child, Copeland continued singing about the world around her, shining light in dark places with confidence and well-timed humor. Singer/songwriter Mary Gauthier, who contributed two songs to the album, said, “Shemekia is one of the great singers of our time. Her voice is nothing short of magic.” Potent new songs, a duet with John Prine, and a reinvention of a Kinks classic led MOJO magazine to name America’s Child the #1 blues release of 2018. It won both the Blues Music Award and the Living Blues Award for Album Of The Year. American Songwriter said, “Copeland delivers the meticulously chosen material with fierce intent, balancing her emotionally moving, searing, husky, four-alarm vocals with a more subtle tough yet tender approach. The riveting America’s Child pushes boundaries, creating music reflecting a larger, wider-ranging tract of Americana.”
Shemekia Copeland has performed thousands of gigs at clubs, festivals and concert halls all over the world, and has appeared in films, on national television, NPR, and in magazine and newspapers. She’s sung with Eric Clapton, Bonnie Raitt, Keith Richards, Carlos Santana, Dr. John, James Cotton and many others. She opened for The Rolling Stones and entertained U.S. troops in Iraq and Kuwait. Jeff Beck calls her “amazing.” Santana says, “She’s incandescent…a diamond.” In 2012, she performed with B.B. King, Mick Jagger, Buddy Guy, Trombone Shorty, Gary Clark, Jr. and others at the White House for President and Mrs. Obama. She has performed on PBS’s Austin City Limits and was recently the subject of a six-minute feature on the PBS News Hour. Currently, Copeland can be heard hosting her own popular daily blues radio show on SiriusXM’s Bluesville.
With Uncivil War, Copeland is determined to stand her ground, help heal America’s wounds and continue to mend broken hearts. She brings people together with her music, a spirited amalgamation of blues, roots and Americana. She’s anxious to bring her new songs to her fans around the world as soon as possible. Of the new album Copeland says, “I’m trying to put the ‘united’ back in the United States. Like many people, I miss the days when we treated each other better. For me, this country’s all about people with differences coming together to be part of something we all love. That’s what really makes America beautiful.”
The Chicago Tribune’s famed jazz critic Howard Reich says, “Shemekia Copeland is the greatest female blues vocalist working today. She pushes the genre forward, confronting racism, hate, xenophobia and other perils of our time. Regardless of subject matter, though, there’s no mistaking the majesty of Copeland’s instrument, nor the ferocity of her delivery. In effect, Copeland reaffirms the relevance of the blues.” The Philadelphia Inquirer succinctly states, “Shemekia Copeland is an antidote to artifice. She is a commanding presence, a powerhouse vocalist delivering the truth.”
https://www.allaboutjazz.com/musicians/shemekia-copeland
Shemekia Copeland
Shemekia Copeland - Blues Singer
When singing sensation Shemekia Copeland first appeared on the scene in 1997 with her groundbreaking debut CD, “Turn The Heat Up,” she quickly became, at 18 years old, a roots music superstar. Critics from around the country celebrated Shemekia's music as fans of all ages agreed that an unstoppable new talent had arrived. Shemekia released two more CDs: 2000's Grammy nominated “Wicked,” and 2002's Talking To Strangers,” (produced by Dr. John), and in that short period of time, collected five Blues Music Awards, a Grammy nomination, five Living Blues Awards, and was honored with the coveted “Talent Deserving Wider Recognition” Award by the DownBeat Critics' Poll. Shemekia has already had a lifetime's worth of career highlights, including performances on national television, appearances in films, and sharing stages with some of the biggest names in the music world. And now she can add the title 'radio host' to her already impressive list of accomplishments. Copeland will host her own weekly blues radio program, Shemekia Copeland's Blues Show, exclusively on Sirius satellite radio.
Her 2005 CD, aptly titled,”The Soul Truth,” is the funkiest, deepest, and most exciting statement yet. Produced by renowned Stax guitarist Steve Cropper (who also adds his stellar guitar playing to the CD), the album is steeped in the spirit of classic Memphis soul but, at the same time, is a contemporary and up-to-the-minute slice of life. Featuring Shemekia's powerful, emotional vocals over a blistering band with horns punching in all the right places, “The Soul Truth” is a tour-de-force of rock, soul and blues.
Born in Harlem, New York in 1979, Shemekia came to her singing career slowly. “I never knew I wanted to sing until I got older,” says Copeland. “But my dad knew ever since I was a baby. He just knew I was gonna be a singer.” Her father, the late Texas blues guitar legend Johnny Clyde Copeland, recognized his daughter's talent early on. He always encouraged her to sing at home and even brought her on stage to sing at Harlem's famed Cotton Club when she was just eight. At that time Shemekia's embarrassment outweighed her desire to sing. But when she was 15 and her father's health began to slow him down, she received the calling. “It was like a switch went off in my head,” recalls Shemekia, “and I wanted to sing. It became a want and a need. I had to do it.”
Shemekia's passion for singing, matched with her huge, blast-furnace voice, gives her music the timeless power and heart-pounding urgency of a very few greats who have come before her. The media has compared her to a young Etta James, Koko Taylor, Aretha Franklin and Ruth Brown, but Shemekia - who was raised in the tough, urban streets of Harlem - has her own story to tell. Although schooled in Texas blues by her father, Shemekia's music comes from deep within her soul and from the streets she grew up on, where a daily dose of city sounds - from street performers to gospel singers to blasting radios to bands in local parks - surrounded her.
With all this experience under her belt, 16-year-old Shemekia joined her father on his tours after he was diagnosed with a heart condition. Soon enough Shemekia was opening, and sometimes even stealing, her father's shows. “She grabbed the crowd with her powerful voice, poised and intense,” raved Blues Revue at the time. Eventually, though, it became clear to Shemekia who was helping whom. “Dad wanted me to think I was helping him out by opening his shows when he was sick, but really, he was doing it all for me. He would go out and do gigs so I would get known. He went out of his way to get me that exposure,” recalls Shemekia. Shemekia stepped out of her father's shadow in 1998 when Alligator released “Turn The Heat UP,” to massive popular and critical acclaim. Rave reviews ran everywhere from Billboard to The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Chicago Tribune, The Chicago Sun-Times, The Boston Globe, Emerge and many others. “Nothing short of uncanny,” said The Village Voice. “She roars with a sizzling hot intensity,” shouted The Boston Globe. She appeared in the motion picture Three To Tango, and her song I Always Get My Man was featured in another Hollywood film, Broken Hearts Club.
In 2000 she returned with “Wicked.” Almost immediately the young singer was in great demand at radio, television and in the press. The opening song, It's 2:00 A.M., won the Blues Music Award for Song Of The Year, and the album was nominated for a Grammy Award. She appeared twice on Late Night With Conan O'Brien, and also performed on National Public Radio's Weekend Edition and the CBS Saturday Early Show. In November 2001, she appeared on Austin City Limits to an enthusiastic live audience and on television to millions more old and new fans all across the country.
With her 2002 Dr. John-produced follow-up, “Talking To Strangers,” Shemekia again turned up the heat, with far-reaching material treading the ground where blues and soul meet rock and roll. The album debuted in the #1 spot on the Billboard Blues Chart and received critical praise all around the world. Features and reviews ran in The Washington Post, Billboard, Essence, Vibe, USA Today, DownBeat, Ebony and many other national and regional publications. She appeared on the Late Show With David Letterman (along with B.B. King), was featured in the Martin Scorsese-produced concert film Lightning In A Bottle, the PBS television series The Blues and even opened a show for the Rolling Stones in Chicago.
Shemekia continues to tour the world and to win fans at every stop. She's played with Buddy Guy and B.B. King, and has shared the stage with Taj Mahal, Dr. John and Koko Taylor, among many others. She won the hearts and souls of new fans at the 1998 and 2002 Chicago Blues Festivals, The North Atlantic Blues Festival, Milwaukee's Summerfest, The Monterey Jazz Festival, The San Francisco Blues Festival, The New York State Blues Festival, The North Sea Festival in Holland, The Montreux Jazz Festival, The New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, The Lowell Folk Festival, and many others.
One of the many lessons Shemekia learned growing up was the importance of singing from the heart. “Nobody wants to listen to someone singing just to earn some money,” she says. “You've gotta sing because you need to do it.” Indeed, Shemekia's soul-satisfying vocals and the lessons she learned from her father, matched with her inner need to sing, have brought her to audiences both young and old. “I still listen to Aretha Franklin, Katie Webster, Trudy Lynn, Etta James, Howard Tate, India Arie and Angelique Kidjo. But I never try to copy them. They've all inspired me and helped me become my own person.”
https://downbeat.com/reviews/detail/uncivil-war
Anyone who has paid attention to the blues scene of the past 20 years is fully aware that singer Shemekia Copeland can belt with gusto. Known more for her vocal gifts than her compositional skills, the key element that distinguishes Copeland’s good albums from her great ones is the quality of the songs she chooses. Her artistry has reached a new level with Uncivil War, thanks to Will Kimbrough, who produced the album, plays electric guitar throughout the program, and co-wrote seven of the 12 tracks.
The album opens with four remarkable, substantive Kimbrough tunes, making it clear that Copeland is not content to merely sing blues fodder about love gone wrong: “Clotilda’s On Fire” chronicles the horrors—and lasting impact—of slavery; “Walk Until I Ride” is a contemporary civil rights manifesto fueled by messages reminiscent of songs by the Staples Singers; the title track is a plea for unity during our divisive times; and “Money Makes You Ugly” is a protest song for environmentalists.
Toward the end of the album, there is a cluster of three songs that are just as weighty as those that open the disc: “Apple Pie And A .45” decries rampant gun violence; “Give God The Blues” is an existential exploration of similarities shared by several organized religions; and “She Don’t Wear Pink” is an LGBTQ anthem.
Copeland’s recordings often incorporate sonic elements from the Americana world, as evidenced here by bluegrass star Sam Bush’s mandolin textures on the title track, as well as Jerry Douglas’ exceptional work on lap steel guitar and Dobro on three tunes. Electric guitarists making guest appearances on the album include blues dynamo Christone “Kingfish” Ingram, Stax icon Steve Cropper and rock ’n’ roll pioneer Duane Eddy.
Not every track on the album is a slice of social commentary; “Dirty Saint” adds a jolt of New Orleans funk to the proceedings. Penned by Kimbrough and John Hahn, the song is a fitting tribute to Dr. John, who produced Copeland’s 2002 disc, Talking To Strangers. The program closes with another type of tribute, as the singer acknowledges her familial and artistic roots by interpreting “Love Song.” It’s a sturdy composition by her father, Johnny Copeland, who was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame in 2017, two decades after his death. Just as Johnny did, Shemekia Copeland’s work has expanded the audience for the blues.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shemekia_Copeland
Shemekia Copeland
On 'Uncivil War,' Shemekia Copeland Sets Fire To A Relic Of American Slavery
Blues singer Shemekia Copeland uses her new album, Uncivil War, to tell the story of the Clotilda — what's thought to be the last slave ship to smuggle African captives to American shores.
On her new album, Uncivil War, blues singer Shemekia Copeland tells the story of what's thought to be the last slave ship to smuggle African captives to American shores, the Clotilda. On the centerpiece track, she sings:
She's coming for you, hear the chains rattle,
Turn you into a slave, another piece of chattel
The burned-out shipwreck of the Clotilda was discovered last year deep in an Alabama river, bringing new attention to the history. Now, Copeland's song "Clotilda's on Fire" explores the legacy of that voyage.
More than 50 years after the slave trade was outlawed in the U.S., plantation owner Timothy Meaher hired a ship captain to smuggle 110 kidnapped West Africans to Alabama. Copeland says this song is about embracing a part of American history that a lot of people would like to forget.
"History is not always pretty," she says. "But first, you must accept it and then you have to change it."
When the Clotilda returned, its captives were hidden in the swamps near Mobile Bay, and the wooden schooner was scuttled upriver and set afire to hide any evidence. No one was ever held to account.
"Slavery is something that we've been talking about culturally for a long time, and I've had many discussions about it," Copeland says. "But what gives me goose pimples, chicken skin, is the lyric, 'We're still living with her ghost.' " She says her goal was to draw attention to the Clotilda story — "let people know about what happened, what they did, what they tried to hide. And let them know that we're still dealing with this and we really shouldn't be in 2020."
The lyrics were written by her longtime manager and songwriter John Hahn, who first worked with her father, the late Texas bluesman Johnny Clyde Copeland.
"I'm so grateful. I tell you what, God always sets me up with who I need to be with," she says. "I've known John Hahn since I was 8 years old, and I'm completely convinced that he's just a reincarnation of an old black woman who had a whole lot to say and never got a chance to say it."
"Clotilda's on Fire" was set to music by Will Kimbrough, who produced the album. He describes the song as straightforward and driving, but notes that it avoids a traditional blues chord progression.
"Even though this is really a blues record, it needed to rock," Kimbrough says. "I didn't want it to sound happy go lucky, but I didn't want it to sound sad. I wanted it to have power."
Since the Clotilda's shipwreck was discovered in the Mobile River last year, there's been a new focus on the community formed by its former captives. After emancipation, they worked to buy land and build a town — known as Africatown — on the outskirts of Mobile. They preserved African traditions, raised their families, started a school,and established a cemetery that faces east towards their homeland.
But Africatown has been in decline in recent decades. People and businesses have left. It's hemmed in by a paper mill, chemical plants,and oil storage tanks. The Clotilda Descendants Association is trying to revitalize the area and develop a museum to house artifacts and tell the story of the Clotilda.
Kimbrough, who is from Mobile, says he wanted "Clotilda's on Fire" to take their story beyond local folklore. "It's a powerful story," he says. "I like that it is an angry song about injustice, but a celebration of the how resilient people can be."
Kimbrough plays guitar on the record, and he recruited another Alabamian to play a solo – alt country star Jason Isbell.
"It's smoking guitar," Kimbrough says. "I love that we have the queen of the blues singing about the last slave ship bringing African people to be enslaved in America, with two Alabama boys playing behind her."
Isbell, for his part, welcomed the gig. "There's a duality for me when it comes to playing blues music, because the music itself carries so much weight and I have so much fun playing it," the artist says. "That, to me is kind of the apex of what popular music can do."
Isbell says the song is coming at the right time, as the nation confronts the very meaning of social justice.
"I think we're going to have to figure out how to all get on the same page, because some people still deny the fact that systemic racism exists and that's beyond me," says Isbell. "I don't understand how you can look around and deny that we're still feeling the effects of slavery."
The title track on Uncivil War also speaks to today's climate, and is Copeland's way of confronting what she describes as the ugliness that she's seen flourish in American society. "How long must we fight this uncivil war?" she sings. "The same old wounds we opened before / Nobody wins an uncivil war."
Shemekia Copeland - Uncivil War
"You know, being angry doesn't do us any justice," Copeland says. "I spent my time being angry and pissed off and mad about it. But at the end of the day, you know, that just doesn't help anything."
Copeland says her goal is to help bring people together, and "remind us who we are." She clings to the hope that America can do better.
"That is what this album is all about," she says. "How long must we fight?"
This story was produced for broadcast and adapted for the Web by Tom Cole.
https://americansongwriter.com/shemekia-copeland-american-child/
Shemekia Copeland
America’s Child
(Alligator)
Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
“Does the world make you think everything’s coming unwound? … When the whole world seems fake, give me something real,” demands soul/blues singer Shemekia Copeland on her most politically tinged effort yet.
On her eighth album, the fiery veteran singer, and daughter of famed bluesman Johnny Copeland, is mad as hell and not going to take it anymore. That’s clear in America’s Child’s tough, firm and unapologetically inclusive stance. Copeland has never been shy about putting her beliefs into songs, predominantly written by others but clearly representative of her views. From this album’s title and cover photo of a child draped in the American flag to tracks like “Americans” (New Orleans second-line funk, co-penned by Mary Gauthier, laundry listing the wide swath of people in the US with “no two are the same, I hope we never change”) and the swamp blues of “Great Rain,” co-composed by John Prine who also duets, Copeland pushes her blues confines while staying tethered to them. Will Kimbrough takes over production from Oliver Wood who worked on previous Copeland discs. He brings in Prine, Emmylou Harris, pedal steel master Al Perkins, J.D. Wilkes, Steve Cropper, and others to assist.
From the opening propulsive blues-rocking “Ain’t Got Time for Hate” to a somewhat surprising, creatively rearranged cover of The Kinks’ “I’m Not Like Everybody Else,” where Copeland refashions the UK ’60s classic as a slow-burn gospel (“Once I get started, I go to town”), Copeland asserts her individuality, both in her searing, husky, soulful vocals and philosophical viewpoints. There’s still room for tough yet tender romance in the driving greasy slide guitar Southern blues-rock cover of Kevin Gordon’s “One I Love,” and a sweet testimonial to the promise of finding true love after multiple failed attempts in her version of her dad’s “Promised Myself,” the disc’s most emotionally moving moment.
Rhiannon Giddens and her banjo take us backwoods for a folksy “Smoked Ham and Peaches” that uses the titular honest meal as a means to escape from phony politics (“how many cards can they keep up their sleeves?”). And things get really scary as Copeland torches her home because she’s been cheated on in the slow sizzle of the cautionary “Such a Pretty Flame” (“nothing burns hotter than your own regrets”).
Even though Copeland doesn’t get songwriting credit, she has meticulously chosen material — much of it co-composed by longtime manager John Hahn — that reflects her views, both political and personal. Most importantly, she delivers these tunes with fierce intent, balancing her four alarm vocals with a more subtle approach.
Shemekia Copeland might have been born into the blues, but the riveting America’s Child shows her continuing to push those boundaries, creating music reflecting a larger, wider-ranging tract of Americana.
https://www.duluthnewstribune.com/lifestyle/3910328-shemekia-copeland-wants-tell-you-story
On just about every song from her 1998 debut,
“Turn the Heat Up,” Shemekia Copeland sounds like she can’t wait to get
to the chorus so she can show off her blues-belting power. But she
doesn’t sing like that anymore.
Today, Copeland sounds like she
wants to tell you a story. “When I was younger, gosh, I didn’t know what
the hell I was doing. I didn’t have any training, or anything, I just
started singing,” says the Chicago-based singer, 36, by phone from New
Orleans. “I love aging. It’s a wonderful thing. And the best part of it
is using the subtleties of my voice. Just being comfortable in my own
skin.
“People (would) say, ‘My gosh, you’re a great singer,’ and
it would freak me out. ‘No, I’m not, this person’s a great singer’ - and
I could point out 1,000 singers who are great, and I’m not” she
continues. “That’s because I couldn’t appreciate myself, and now I can,
because I’m me. When I hear my voice, it’s like, you know, it’s me.
That’s it.”
Over seven albums in 17 years, mostly on Chicago’s
Alligator Records, Copeland took vocal lessons and worked on nuances
with producer and songwriter Oliver Wood. Throughout this year’s
Grammy-nominated “Outskirts of Love,” Copeland makes like her touring
partner, bluesman Robert Cray, and spins clear-voiced tales of the down
and out. In the title track, co-written by Wood and manager John Hahn,
she sings: “Carrying a suitcase / all bound up with string / it was all
that she had left since she pawned her wedding ring.” Of course,
Copeland is not opposed to power belting - she just doesn’t have to do
it all the time.
“I never thought I had a pretty voice, you know
what I mean?” Copeland asks. “I thought I had to belt things out. I was a
blues singer - that’s what I did. I didn’t think the subtlety of what I
did was a good thing.”
With the help of Hahn and Wood, Copeland
unveiled this more reflective singing style around 2009, with “Never
Going Back to Memphis,” a torchy film-noir song about a criminal’s
framed ex-girlfriend who replays Junior Parker in her head while cops
eat fried chicken. It was a short step from there to political music,
particularly 2012’s “Ain’t Gonna be Your Tattoo,” a more straightforward
ballad about domestic violence. Women began to approach Copeland and
tell her about refusing to return to their abusive husbands and
boyfriends after listening to these types of songs. “I was like, ‘Holy
(cow).’ It affected me in such a big way,” Copeland says. “I said I
wanted to do more songs like this.”
Copeland’s latest album, this
year’s “Outskirts of Love,” is her first cycle of songs dealing
exclusively with the downtrodden - homeless people in “Cardboard Box” a
date-rape victim in “Crossbone Beach,” a brush with sexual harassment in
“Drivin’ Out of Nashville” and, more in line with blues conventions,
the cheater in “I Feel a Sin Coming On” and the sad souls in Jessie Mae
Hemphill’s “Lord, Help the Poor and Needy.”
“We pretty much knew
this record was going to be about people who were on the outskirts of
something, whether it’s social injustice or homelessness or date rape,
whatever it was,” Copeland says. “It just pulled together so well,
surprisingly.”
Although Copeland is not a songwriter, she has
veto power over everything Hahn and Wood present to her. She has known
Hahn for almost 30 years, when he was managing her father, the late
Texas blues singer Johnny “Clyde” Copeland. (As the story goes, when
Copeland won a Grammy Award for 1985’s “Showdown!,” his collaboration
with fellow guitarists Cray and Albert Collins, Hahn couldn’t believe
Copeland hadn’t put out his own album, and wound up producing 1992’s
“Flyin’ High.”) “He just knows me really well - a father to me in so
many ways,” Shemekia Copeland says. “He’s very picky about (songs) he
gives me. I’m very picky about what I want performed. So if I can’t jump
inside of it and really become it and present it, I wouldn’t do it.”
Copeland adds that Hahn and Wood call her “The Face,” because “they know in my face whether or not it’s working.”
Born
in Harlem, Copeland first sang on stage as an 8-year-old, at the Cotton
Club with her father. (She has a vivid memory of him pulling up in a
car while she was walking to school, happily waving his “Showdown!”
Grammy out the window.) She began to sing professionally at 16,
befriending more established blues stars, taking in their advice. “Queen
of the Blues” Koko Taylor checked on her regularly, because, having
come up in an earlier era heavy with drugs and theft, “She was nervous
for me,” Copeland says.
“She always told me to look to the
hills,” she adds. “All the musicians I’ve talked to and hung out with -
they’re all very spiritual and very religious. (Chicago singer) Bobby
Rush got booty-shaking girls on stage, but every Sunday he’s in church.
And Buddy Guy’s in church. It’s a thing. I am also very spiritual. I’m a
believer in a higher power.”
https://www.nytimes.com/2005/08/22/arts/critics-choice-new-cds-the-soul-truth-shemekia-copeland.html
Critic's Choice: New CD's; The Soul Truth; Shemekia Copeland
Shemekia Copeland has no patience with the wrong kind of men on "The Soul Truth" (Alligator). She doesn't just leave them; she tells them exactly why she's going, what they did wrong and how much better she's going to feel when she's back on her own. Ms. Copeland is the 26- the great Stax Records studio band in the 1960's. He collaborated on some of the songwriting, and his guitar is at the center of arrangements with a lean backbeat, rollicking piano (by Chuck Leavell from the Allman Brothers Band and the Rolling Stones) and an ever-alert horn section. Unlike many soul-revival productions, the album supplies her with songs worthy of the treatment.
The melodies are chiseled and the lyrics are tough and funny: "Breakin' Out" compares divorce to a jailbreak, while in "All About You," which Ms. Copeland helped write, she realizes that "We're all through, because I could never love you as much as you do." Even when she's complaining about the state of the airwaves in "Who Stole My Radio?" -- "I want passion, I want feeling/ I want to be rocked from the floor to the ceiling" -- her terms are amorous and uncompromising. JON PARELES
The Queen’s Gamble
You could say that the songs on Shemekia Copeland’s new album, “Uncivil War,” include rocking shuffles, a showstopping slow blues and a New Orleans-style second-line groove, or that among the guest stars are the dobro maestro Jerry Douglas, the bluegrass mandolinist and fiddler Sam Bush, the alt-country rocker Jason Isbell, the twang icon Duane Eddy, the Stax Records soul mainstay Steve Cropper, and the blues guitar phenom Christone “Kingfish” Ingram. But when Copeland and her manager, John Hahn, conceived the album, they talked about an anti-gun-violence song, a song about the civil rights movement, an anti-racist song, a love-whomever-you-want song, a legacy-of-slavery song, a strong-woman song (or three), a song about economic inequality and the environment, a song about religious intolerance, a song about the vexed divides that split the nation into red and blue factions. They believe the cultural moment is ripe for explicitly political blues songs, reviving a form so old that it seems new again.
Widely hailed as the greatest blues singer of her generation and the reigning Queen of the Blues, Charon Shemekia Copeland, 41, has grown impatient with business as usual in the blues: the eclipse of singers by endlessly wailing guitars; the willingness of the aging boomers who dominate the core listenership to hear “Sweet Home Chicago” or “The Thrill Is Gone” yet again; set lists featuring the usual good-times anthems and romantic laments and not enough resonance with vital issues of the day. Her search for new audiences, collaborators and songs to sing is also a search for a fresh sense of relevance for the music she loves, and it has taken her from Chicago, the home of the blues, to Nashville, the capital of country music, with its matchless concentration of song-making talent.
There, she has sought not only musical but also ideological fellowship among artists who converge on the Americana scene, a progressive-tending confluence of country, folk, bluegrass and singer-songwriter rock created by roots-minded musicians in search of alternatives to the city’s mainstream country music industry, which traditionally caters to more conservative rural listeners. Being Queen of the Blues is no small distinction, but Copeland doesn’t believe it will be enough to sustain her in the long run. So she’s willing to risk a move away from her blues base to try to find a new home for her social concerns and her prodigious voice.
The first thing most listeners notice about Copeland’s voice is its sheer force. Frequently compared to great blues shouters of the 1920s like Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey, she’s in the habit of showing off the outsize instrument housed in her compact frame by stepping away from the mic and overmatching the amps of her band with her unaided voice. Such displays of raw power caught the blues world’s attention when she made her spectacular debut as a teenager, but it’s her mature control of that power that separates her from other belters. She used to come out blasting on every song, but now she gets more out of the quieter end of her dynamic range. Singers trying too hard to sound authentically bluesy often get sloppy with pitch and diction, smearing notes when they bend them and running lyrics through a blender of mannered imprecision — growling, slurring, droppin’ g’s — that reduces words to mush. Copeland, by contrast, sings like she’s explaining something. She bends notes with a microtonal precision that calls to mind the string-squeezing guitar genius Albert King, and her diction is as fussy as an opera singer’s. The words matter to her more than any other element of a song, and she wants to make sure you hear them all.
The guitar heroes who have dominated the blues since the rise of rock tend to treat songs as excuses to play solos, reducing them to a series of generic grooves: the jaunty shuffle, the stately slow blues. “Blues music has become very jam-band-ish, more about the jam than the song,” Copeland told me. “For me the words always come first when I’m picking a song to sing — ’cause I’m not a songwriter, I’m a song picker.” She has a routine for getting into a song someone else has written. “The lyrics have to say something I want to say, so I start there,” she told me. “Then I add a layer each time I listen: drums, bass, guitar.” Treating each song as a distinct piece of writing with mood, plot and point of view, she works hard to inhabit the character telling the story, so that listening to one of her sets feels a little like reading a collection of short stories or poems: the one about a freedom marcher in the rain (“Walk Until I Ride”), the one about a school shooter (“Apple Pie and a .45”), the one about a slave ship that sank off the coast of Alabama in 1860 (“Clotilda’s on Fire”).
“Shemekia’s one of the great singers of our music,” the veteran bluesman Taj Mahal told me. “I watched her grow, saw the torch passed to her from her father, and she has continued all along to honor that gift.” Johnny Clyde Copeland, Shemekia’s father, was a Texas bluesman, but his musical tutelage was eclectic. “My father wrote songs like a country artist, sang like a soul singer and played guitar like a bluesman,” she told me. “We listened to all kinds of music, and I sang Johnny Cash with him, and Hank Williams. One of the first songs I ever recorded was ‘I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.’ ”
Her mention of those Mount Rushmore figures of country music shouldn’t come as a surprise. Though cultural convention pigeonholes the blues as an essential Black genre and country as the sound of Whiteness, the facts on the ground are messier than that.
Black Southerners, who invented the blues, no longer predominate among fans and practitioners. Copeland, who is Black, has performed with most of the great living Black blues figures and with others who are now gone, but many of her trusted musical collaborators are White. That group includes all but one member of her road band as well as John Hahn, who is not only her manager but also her principal lyricist; Will Kimbrough, the versatile Nashville ace who produced, played guitar and co-wrote seven songs on “Uncivil War”; and most of the Nashville pros Kimbrough and Hahn recruited to help write and play songs for her. In that sense, her musical community resembles her multiracial family — she and her husband, Brian Schultz, a heavy-metal-loving, White railroad construction supervisor from the Nebraska panhandle, have a 4-year-old son, Johnny — and the place where she has lived for the past 15 years: Beverly, one of the few racially integrated neighborhoods on Chicago’s South Side.
Country, for its part, shares a root system with African American musical traditions. There has long been crossover traffic between country and blues, and country has always had significant numbers of Black listeners, musicians and influences. Copeland’s bluesman father, like many Southerners of his generation, grew up listening to the Grand Ole Opry on the radio, and she hears blues and country as mutually resonant elements of a single intertwined musical tradition with a strong Southern flavor. “If Patsy Cline isn’t a great blues singer,” she told me, “then I don’t know what a blues singer is.” As Copeland sings in “Drivin’ Out of Nashville,” a chicken-fried noir tale written by Hahn and Oliver Wood (another multiple-threat musical Swiss Army knife, a type in which Nashville specializes), “Country music ain’t nothin’ but the blues with a twang.”
So the blues-country team-up Copeland has been pursuing in Nashville in recent years — “Uncivil War” is her second album produced by Kimbrough — is more a revival of an old partnership than a new thing under the sun. The same goes for the merger of blues and explicitly political content. Copeland and Hahn often decry the dearth of social commentary in contemporary blues, but there’s precedent in the tradition for songs that directly address current political topics.
“There’s a way in which the conventional idea that there aren’t a lot of political songs in blues is right, and a way in which it’s wrong,” says the distinguished music historian Elijah Wald, who points out that even blues lyrics about heartbreak or hard labor have long been heard as responses to oppression. He argues that the habit of treating blues as roots music tends to sideline its political potential. “Robert Johnson singing about a railroad strike is not heard as protest music,” he told me. “It’s like the false distinction that treats ‘conscious’ rap as political and gangsta rap as not political.” He likens Copeland’s feminist-angled social commentary to that of the Chicks, the country supergroup shunned by country radio in 2003 (when they were known as the Dixie Chicks) for criticizing President George W. Bush. But the conventional classifying of popular genres allows country to be associated with current events and politics — often conservative and jingoistic — while blues is associated with abstract existential truths about the human soul.
Copeland’s turn toward Americana, an end run around these perceptions, raises echoes of the Popular Front, the leftist cultural movement of the 1930s. “The Popular Front embraced major blues figures who sang explicitly political songs for a largely White left progressive audience,” Wald says. “Singers like Leadbelly, who sang ‘Bourgeois Blues,’ and Big Bill Broonzy, who sang ‘I Wonder When I’ll Get to Be Called a Man,’ and Josh White was the big one, with songs like ‘Uncle Sam Says,’ ‘Trouble’ or ‘Bad Housing Blues.’ ” White, Wald notes, “was asked to come to the White House to sit down with FDR and talk about what Black people want.”
Donald Trump would never have invited Copeland for such a chat, though she did join other blues stars to sing “Sweet Home Chicago” at the Obama White House in 2012. The eponymous first single on “Uncivil War” laments our bitter divides, and Copeland tries not to alienate anyone when she’s talking between songs onstage or DJ-ing her weekday show on SiriusXM’s blues channel (a backup gig that has proven a godsend for her since the pandemic interrupted income from live shows), but it’s not hard to tell that she’s on Team Blue. In making the move from Chicago to Nashville, two blue cities surrounded by red hinterland, she has found a kindred spirit in Kimbrough. He has exercised chameleon-like adaptability in making music with artists from Emmylou Harris to Jimmy Buffett, but his own work — like the antiwar, anti-greed-themed album “Americanitis” — displays a strain of southpaw critique. Kimbrough, known as a guitar wizard, shares not just Copeland’s progressive politics but also her disdain for guitar-hero overkill, so as producer he scrupulously restrains his own playing in the service of framing to best advantage the words she sings. “You have to beg him to take a solo,” she mock-complained to me. “Take a damn solo, Will.”
Wearing headphones, Copeland sat on a high stool at a microphone in a small room in the Butcher Shoppe, a recording studio in Nashville co-owned by the Americana patron saint John Prine, on a Monday morning in early December 2019. In town to record vocal tracks for the dozen songs on “Uncivil War,” she was dressed all in black, from leather boots to wool watch cap. In the next room, Kimbrough led a veteran crew of local session musicians into the shuffle groove of a song called “Money Makes You Ugly.” They locked in on the rocking sweet spot between push and drag: plenty of drive to propel the song onward, just enough hold-back to give it a satisfyingly nasty quality of thickness and churn. “The ice is meltin’ and my lawn’s on fire,” Copeland sang. “The world’s got a fever gettin’ higher and higher.”
As she sang, she tapped into the original rush of anger inspired in her almost a year earlier by an interview with Donald Trump Jr. she saw somewhere — she can’t remember where. She’d gotten on the phone to Hahn, who had seen the same interview and was similarly incensed. “He’s totally out of touch with life in this country, like his father,” Copeland had said to Hahn. “He thinks the reason people are poor is because they don’t work hard enough.” (I have not been able to find any record of Trump Jr. making a public remark in early 2019 to the effect that poor people should work harder. Copeland and Hahn backtracked on their digital trail at my request to see if they could find it, and they couldn’t. Whatever he actually did say seems to have bounced around in the segmented echo chambers of our political culture until Copeland and Hahn heard it as such.)
Copeland talks with Hahn at least once a day, and many of the songs he writes for her come out of the back-and-forth of these conversations. After they got off the phone, Hahn, who had already been contemplating a song about privilege without conscience, wrote a fiery condemnation of the rich and powerful for screwing up the world. Hahn, a lyricist but not a musician, sent it to Kimbrough to put the words to music. Hahn envisioned a foot-stomping burner, but when they got together in the kitchen of Kimbrough’s house in Nashville to work on it, Kimbrough explained that they had to pace the song to fit the words. “When I’m hearing it, my little brain goes to a minor key,” he said. He was all in black: jeans, T-shirt, Clark Kent glasses, bed head. “Almost like a ... ” He trailed off as he picked up an acoustic guitar and chunked out a groove in B minor, humming a descending strain over it. “ ’Course, there’s a lot of words,” he added. Touching upon climate change, fracking, lead-poisoned drinking water in Flint, Mich., and more, the song had turned out to be as much about the environment as about inequality. “Whoever told you that you own this place?” the singer asks the apocalyptically spoiled plutocrat to whom it’s addressed. “Think of ‘Gimme Shelter,’ ” Kimbrough told Hahn and Copeland as they sat with him at his kitchen table. “That’s the maximum speed. It isn’t fast, but it rocks.”
Now, in the studio eight months after that kitchen session, Copeland felt for her original outrage — “It’s the attitude of not knowing or caring what people have to do to get by that gets me,” she had told me — and poured the feeling into the groove crafted by Kimbrough’s crew. After they had recorded a couple of takes, everyone crowded into the control room of the Butcher Shoppe to listen to playback. I noted that Copeland had been revising Hahn’s lyrics on the fly, substituting “dirty water” for “water from Flint.” She said, “Yeah, keep it simple — make your point and get out.” The blunt, earnest songs she conceives with Hahn tend to be least preachy when most concise. “We try to address the issues without lecturing people,” Hahn said.
Blues songs may sound straightforwardly simple, but it’s not easy to write one. “There’s not many people around today that really do it well,” the prolific bluesman Keb’ Mo’ told me. “There’s a way that it’s got to be done to be effective. Every verse is like a chorus.” He was referring to the haiku-like spareness of a classic blues lyric like Elmore James’s “The sky is crying, look at the tears roll down the street.”
Hahn tends to be more didactic, placing priority on engaging the issue he and Copeland want to address. As a result, his lyrics can sound like talking points, which has been a trait of blues protest songs going back to their Popular Front heyday. Compared to a dark-night-of-the-soul epic like Robert Johnson’s “Hellhound on My Trail” (“I got to keep movin’ / Blues fallin’ down like hail”), for instance, Leadbelly’s “The Bourgeois Blues” (“Home of the brave, land of the free / I don’t wanna be mistreated by no bourgeoisie”) can seem stiff. Similarly, a couplet from “Money Makes You Ugly” like “Your conscience was laid off with all the people you fired / Took back their benefits before they retired” doesn’t roll off the tongue or sink resonantly into one’s consciousness in the way that, say, Jimmy Reed’s “Bright lights, big city, gone to my baby’s head” does.
When she was recording in December 2019, Copeland’s new album seemed on track for a summer 2020 release, timed to arrive well in advance of Election Day and its long news shadow. But the coronavirus, just then crossing from animals to humans in Wuhan, would wreck all manner of plans as it spread around the planet. It would wipe out live musical events, on which the blues business heavily depends, and take the life of the beloved John Prine, whose studio Copeland was using and who had duetted with her on his song “Great Rain” on her previous album, the award-winning “America’s Child.” “She doesn’t sound like anybody else,” Prine had told me when I caught up with him backstage at Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium, the Mother Church of Country Music. “It’s a blues voice, but it’s so clear and proper and righteous. I’m so glad she’s come down here.”
The Black Lives Matter protests of the spring and summer, part of a cultural climate of growing attention to racial injustice that just might inspire demand for some fresh (or freshly revived) protest music, were still in the future, too. The album, originally titled “Living With Ghosts” and scheduled for summer release, would be delayed until October and retitled “Uncivil War,” and it was anybody’s guess how it would fare if she couldn’t tour in support of it.
So far, the album has done well. It has earned strong notices in publications from Rolling Stone to the Wall Street Journal, and on NPR, and it has showed up on best-of lists for 2020 — including at No. 1 on the list compiled by the veteran rock critic Jim DeRogatis, co-host of NPR’s “Sound Opinions” show, ahead of Americana critical darlings like Jason Isbell and Lucinda Williams, the hip-hop stars Run the Jewels and the pop star Dua Lipa. “Uncivil War” also opened at or near the top of blues charts and received respectful reviews in the blues specialty press, and Copeland still enjoys her perennial front-runner position in blues awards competitions — all of which suggests that her explorations of Americana have not alienated the sensibilities of her blues base.
At the end of a long recording day, Copeland decided to do one more song, a cover of “In the Dark,” a lovelorn midtempo shuffle recorded by Junior Parker in 1961 and definitively transformed into a magisterial slow blues by Lonnie Brooks in the 1970s. The band settled into a restrained groove, and Copeland launched into the first verse: “I heard you was out / High as you could be / Kissin’ other women / And you know it wasn’t me.” The signature mood of slow blues in a minor key descended, and everything else seemed to fall away — the ripped-from-the-headlines political convictions of the newly written songs on the album, the desire to reach beyond the blues scene for a broader audience and new musical challenges and topicality — as she poured herself into the old familiar vocal swoops and bends, the crushing tension and soaring release at the heart of the blues. “That ain’t right, babe,” she sang. “No, no, no, that ain’t right.”
The Queen of the Blues did her best singing of the day on this old song with no obvious political content or subtext. She had decades of singing in prime voice ahead of her, and she was decades younger than the boomers who made up the core of her blues audience. Nashville might yet provide the solution to that problem, but this performance was pure Chicago. “What goes on in the dark,” she sang, “will soon come to light,” and her elongated reading of “soon” was a mini-suite of sustains and twisting leaps resonating with grievance, hope and an aching for redress. If she could figure out how to consistently infuse her purpose-built political songs with the undeniable feeling that pulsed in her rendition of this heartbroken standard, she might yet make herself the Queen of Blue America.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Carlo Rotella is a professor of English, American studies and journalism at Boston College. His most recent book is “The World Is Always Coming to an End: Pulling Together and Apart in a Chicago Neighborhood.”
Designed by Twila Waddy. Photo editing by Dudley M. Brooks.
https://www.wbgo.org/2021-07-22/shemekia-copeland-modern-guardian-of-the-blues
Shemekia Copeland, Modern Guardian Of The Blues
Whenever we talk about "guardians of the blues," imagining a guy with a guitar is a common default. Whether or not there's any truth to that cliché, the music's stewardship also belongs to someone like Shemekia Copeland, whose voice and presence embody it.
A force on the ground since the mid-1990s, when she was attending Teaneck High School in New Jersey, Copeland has distinguished herself as one of the leading blues artists of our time, not just for the vibrant authority in her singing but also for her choices with style and repertory, up to and including the 2020 album Uncivil War.
In this episode of Jazz Night in America, we'll hear Copeland perform some of that material from Dizzy's Club in New York, along with portions of her firecracker set at the 2021 Exit Zero Jazz Festival. And we'll learn more about Copeland's blues birthright, established by her father — he was one of those guys with a guitar, the late Texas bluesman Johnny Copeland.
We'll also hear a testimonial from Alligator Records founder Bruce Iglaur, who signed Shemekia at 17, along with insights about her place in the culture from noted music scholar Tammy Kernodle. But the primary voice in our show, whether speaking or singing, is rightly Copeland's. "I know I sound like a 1980s beauty queen talking about, 'All I want is world peace,' " she says. "But in all honesty, that's what I want. I want my kid to grow up in a world where we accept each other, love each other and we don't have all this horrible divisiveness."
Musicians:
Shemekia Copeland, vocals; Arthur Neilson, guitar; Ken "Willie" Scandlyn, guitar; Kevin Jenkins, bass; Robin Gould, drums
Video set list:
Radio set list:
Credits:
Writer and Producer: Alex Ariff; Video Producers: Mitra I. Arthur, Nikki Birch; Host: Christian McBride; Videographers: Bronson Arcuri, Mitra I. Arthur, Nikki Birch, Nickolai Hammar; Video Editor: Mitra I. Arthur; Production Assistant: Sarah Kerson; JALC Music Engineer: Rob Macomber; Exit Zero Jazz Festival Engineer: Tyler McClure; Exit Zero Jazz Festival Mixing Engineer: Corey Goldberg; Audio Mastering for Video: Andy Huether; Project Manager: Suraya Mohamed; Senior Producer: Nikki Birch, Katie Simon; Supervising Editor: Keith Jenkins; Executive Producers: Anya Grundmann and Gabrielle Armand.
Produced in partnership with WRTI, Philadelphia. Special thanks to Michael Kline, Paul Siegel, and John Hahn.
Stream Jazz Night In America on Spotify and Apple Music, updated monthly.
Copyright 2021 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.
https://www.wbgo.org/2021-07-22/shemekia-copeland-modern-guardian-of-the-blues
Shemekia Copeland live at Exit Zero Jazz Festival | JAZZ NIGHT IN AMERICA
Shemekia Copeland Interview: The Blues is Roots
Shemekia Copeland comes from the blues, via her own catalog, but also genetically, as the daughter of bluesman Johnny Copeland. And while she has expanded her sound into more roots-oriented music, she’ll never turn her back on her original vocation.
“It’s funny,” she says. “I sit on panels and stuff all the time. And you go around the room and you have to introduce yourself. And everybody’s like, you know, ‘I’m so and so.’ I play piano and saxophone. I can make a three tier cake. I produced a record. I did a souffle the other night.’ They have to give their entire resume. And I just simply say, ‘I’m Shemekia Copeland and I’m a blues singer.'”
That love and respect for the blues is what’s allowed her to explore other instruments, sounds, and collaborators from outside of the blues world, while still maintaining a strong connection to her blues origins. America’s Child, her 2018 album, featured guests like Emmylou Harris, John Prine, and Rhiannon Giddens, all fantastic artists, none of whom is known for their harmonica work. Uncivil War, her latest album, also has some surprises, including alt-country singer/songwriter/guitarist Jason Isbell, bluegrass/country legend Jerry Douglas, and rocker Duane Eddy.
Where the blues has a necessary tradition of obscuring pointed lyrics to avoid retribution, Copeland is happy to directly challenge social and political institutions. Which led her to cover The Rolling Stones’ “Under My Thumb,” a song she’s wanted to rework for at least a decade. While many, including Copeland, love the Stones’ music, their sexist messages are problematic. Copeland switches the song’s genders, making it a story of female empowerment, paying tribute to a beloved band while also correcting them.
If it sounds like all of these influences are pulling Copeland away from the blues, just listen to her vocals, which instantly ground her sound in pure blues goodness. And she’s not afraid to own that foundation, seeing it as a strength. “It’s so funny because I’m a proud blues singer and I’ve always been proud to call myself that,” she says. “I’ve never felt like it limited me in any type of way, by being that or calling myself that. I feel like people think that you’re limited if you call yourself this, that, or the other. But I don’t think that’s the case at all. I think about [Aerosmith’s] Steven Tyler. He’s a rock and roll singer, but he was classically trained. So he could probably sing opera as good as the next person,” she laughs.
Like everyone, Copeland is waiting for the world to return to a semblance of normal so she can tour her album. In the meantime, she’s keeping busy with her SiriusXM radio show on BB King’s Bluesville’s channel. She’s taking care of her son, the two spending a fun summer at home rather than out touring together. She’s also caring for her mother, who took ill during the summer. All while preparing to move to California. “You have to be grateful for everything and that’s me,” she says. “Trying to be grateful for whatever, even though I would love to be performing.”
Uncivil War feels like a continuation of America’s Child. Is this where you want your sound to be?
Oh absolutely! I just love the marriage of all the different genres. That’s what I’ve been doing for the last couple records, just marrying all these different styles. We’ve got banjos and fiddles [laughs] and it’s instrumentation that’s not used in blues music normally. And so I love that.
What would you say is the difference between blues and Americana?
There is no difference. I think it all fits together. I really do. Blues belongs in there. It’s roots music. And that’s how you would describe Americana.
Growing up in the northeast, did that make it hard to connect to more of that Southern rootsy sound?
It’s easy to connect to it when your mom’s from Carolina and your daddy’s from Texas. But I think it was a good thing for me that I was born in New York City because it just gave it more of an urban feel. Or should I say more of an urban attitude? Because I certainly have that [laughs].
Do you think women of color are making inroads into Americana?
Well, I think it’s starting to happen. I mean, gosh, you’ve got Rhiannon Giddens. She’s been in there for a while. But we need more. Definitely need more women of color in there.
Why do you think that’s been a hard nut to crack?
I don’t know exactly. I mean, why aren’t there a whole lot of famous black country singers? [laughs] You know what I mean? A lot of it is politics, I’m sure.
Does it feel good to know that people look up to you for the way you’ve been able to break into that genre?
I think it’s awesome. I do it because I love music so much. I think that’s what I love so much about Nashville. Nobody cares about genre. They just want to play great music, to play on great songs and make music together. That’s what it should be about.
Call me old fashioned, but I want to go back to the days where you go to a record store and nothing was separated as far as genre was concerned. It was just ‘where’s the so and so record?’, and all the radio stations just played music and they didn’t care. It wasn’t your rock station or your pop station or your this station or your that station. They just played music because it sounded cool.
You didn’t have any songs on the album. Is there a reason?
Well, I’m not that good of a writer. There are so many people that can write a song, but there’s not a whole lot of songwriters. I work with great songwriters. And if somebody else writes a better song than me, for God’s sakes, I’m going to sing that one [laughs]. I wish more people did that, you know? Because then there would be so many fewer crappy records out here.
Why do you think were artists don’t do that?
I’m perfectly fine singing great songs that were tailor-made to fit me. I’m okay with that. There are some people that are better fit to put things together in ways that come across in a way that people will actually want to listen to it. I’m a black woman in America right now [laughs]. And I have to admit, I’m very careful about the way in which I want to say things and put things out there.
Does that make it hard for you to write songs? Because you feel like you need to filter it in a certain way?
Absolutely. I mean, it’s the same reason why Kamala can’t go to a debate and go crazy, you know [laughs]? You have to be smart about the way you’re saying things. And I’ve always tried to do that.
Do you want to ever think about getting to a place where you can just let it out?
No, because I am letting it out. I’m just doing it in a way, that’s a better way. I am letting it out; it’s just that I’m doing it in a way that’s better suited for me. Through people who are better writers than me, and I’m okay with that [laughs].
Was “Under my Thumb” one of those outlets for you?
Oh my God, I love that. You know, it’s funny. I don’t like that as a man song at all. But isn’t it great as a woman song?
I think it’s like one of the best things I’ve heard this year because it was so subversive.
Yeah, coming from a woman, you can take it better. It’s like, I wouldn’t want to hear a man sing “Respect.” I know that’s sexist, right?
Where did you get the idea to cover it?
I’ve been thinking about doing that song forever. I’m a Stones fan. I love the Stones. And I’ve been thinking about that song. And it’s funny because I listened to that song for years. And I was like, ‘No, unh-unh, no, No! [laughs]’. But then I sing it and it seems just that much better. You know what? Not a better version because gosh, no one wants to say they’re better than the Stones. I mean just as a woman singing about a man that way, versus the opposite.
I’m surprised that you don’t enjoy the songwriting process more. You have such a strong perspective
Well, I do write. What I’m just saying is there are other people that write better. I write all the time. I just know, like I said, there’s a difference between people who write songs and people who are songwriters. Because to me, songwriters can put it out there in a way that is poetic. Like Bob Dylan could and Joni Mitchell. John Prine. Even Sam Cooke and people like that. It’s just they have a way of doing what they do. And I haven’t mastered that. I’m way more literal. My writing is the way I speak. And that’s not always a good thing. And the difference between me and others is I know that [laughs].
Do you have a favorite moment on the record?
There’s so many favorite moments on this record. You got “Clotilda’s on Fire,” which is such a story that should be out there for people. They abolish slavery in 1807. And sixty years later they were still bringing bodies across illegally, and they never got in trouble for it. And my ancestors came over on those ships. I don’t know which one, but I know I’m 87% African, so I had to get in some kind of way, right? And, to me, the number one moment of that song is “We’re still living with her ghosts.” Because there’s no reason why here in America a black person should have to hold up a sign that says, ‘I’m human. My life matters.’ That’s crazy, right? So that song just sticks with me.
And then you know, culturally, we’ve always had to go through things. And that’s where “Walk Until I Ride” comes in. It’s like, ‘I’m just gonna keep on going and I’m gonna walk with my head held high. And you can’t take my freedom. You can’t take my pride. I’m just gonna walk until I ride.’
And then “Uncivil War,” like, how long do we have to go through this crap? I mean, really, in America, in 2020? I’ve got a three and a half year old kid. I don’t want him to have to keep going through this stuff. Gosh, I don’t even want him to know what happened in 2020. And to know what’s going on right now. It’s bad. You’re scared, even talk to your kids. It’s just a terrible time. And I’m really upset because normally I’d be able to tour these songs. And I’d be able to go out on the road and talk about the songs and let people know how I’m feeling and what’s going on. And I can’t do that. So that’s being taken away from me. So it’s very, very, very tough.
Shemekia Copeland - Clotilda's On Fire
And what do you like about working with America’s Child/Uncivil War producer/guitarist Will Kimbrough?
Oh, my God. So I’m just fortunate. I’m fortunate because [songwriter/manager] John Hahn, Will Kimbrough, and myself, we are really like the dream team. This is what I’ve been working towards for the past 20 years, is this right here. What we’re doing right now. And John, I’ve been talking to every day on the phone since I’m eight years old. He just gets me. And then Will, same thing. I mean, the second that we met, we just clicked. It was like, this is it. And I just feel like we make magic together. I just hope everybody else feels the same way. It doesn’t matter how I feel [laughs], hopefully everybody else feels the same way.
Do you really talk to John every day?
Every single day. Yup. He called me since I’ve been talking to you [laughs].
So can I ask, not specifically what you talk about, but what kind of stuff you talk about?
Oh, my God, everything. I mean, politics, religion, social injustice. Other personal things just going on with me, you know? And here, for goodness sakes, the whole conversation is politics. That’s what everybody’s talking about right now. That’s why I love that song “Money Makes You Ugly.” Because, that song came about from a direct conversation about how pissed off I am. I feel like, if you’re born privileged, it’s a blessing. It’s a wonderful thing, right? But if you are born privileged, know and understand that you are privileged, and that you’re afforded opportunities that other people don’t have.
Like me, even though I grew up right smack dab in the middle of the ghetto, during a time where crack was just taking over. I still grew up in a household with both of my parents, that were not, you know, crackheads, unlike some of the kids that I grew up with. I had hot food every day, a roof over my head, I never had to worry about eating. Well, the kids that I grew up with, they did. They had to worry about it. So even with that, even though I didn’t have a lot, I still knew I was privileged, where you have some people that are born, not even with a silver spoon in their mouth, with a gold spoon in their mouth. And they have absolutely no connection to how other people have to live, and how other people have to go, what other people have to go through not knowing where their next meal is going to come from, and things like that.
So I get really frustrated with those types of people who are completely out of touch with what normal people have to go through. That’s how “Money Makes You Ugly” came about. I was very angry at something that one of Trump’s kids said, ‘Well, if you want more money, all you got to do and work harder.’ Meanwhile, you know, I know a bunch of people that work, you know, 60, 70 hour weeks, and they still can’t make ends meet. So what are you talking about? So this is how some of these things come about.
https://www.rockandbluesmuse.com/2018/07/25/interview-with-shemekia-copeland-powerhouse-vocalist/
Interview with Shemekia Copeland, Powerhouse Vocalist
Photo: Mike White
By Kevin Porter
When Shemekia Copeland opens her mouth, you listen. The successor to Koko Taylor as the “Queen of the Blues,” as recognized by the Chicago Blues Festival, the city of Chicago and the state of Illinois, Copeland’s music encompasses a steamy mix of blues, soul, and more recently, country. A powerhouse vocalist, her songs often address the social issues of the day, be they homelessness, sexual harassment, domestic violence and poverty. She has been nominated for three Grammys and won the Living Blues Readers’ Award for Best Female Artist of the Year in 2016 and 2017, as well as two Blues Music Awards in 2016 for Best Blues Album of the Year and Contemporary Blues Female Artist of the Year, among others.
Copeland’s soon-to-be-released album, America’s Child, will likely win even more awards for her—it’s a tour de force with her usual passionate singing and meaningful songs that include guest artists such as John Prine, Emmylou Harris, Steve Cropper, J.D. Wilkes and others. It’s her first album since the birth of her son, and not surprisingly, being a new mother has affected her world view and the music she creates. She launches a four-month U.S. tour in early August in support of the record. A Shemekia Copeland concert is not to be missed, not only for her unparalleled singing but also because her band absolutely burns. She kindly talked to us by phone as she packed for a trip to Switzerland to perform at the Lenk Festival.
KP: Tell me about your new album, America’s Child. What were your goals in making it, what were you thinking going into it and how do you think it turned out?
SC: I’m very excited about the record. Going in for every record, I like to be current about issues and the things that are happening now. For me in my life, I have a lot going on–having a child and the type of world that I brought my child into, and the things that he will have to endure. Sometimes I feel like things will be worse for him than they were for me, because I feel like, in some ways, things are getting worse instead of getting better. That’s what the record is about—a lot of that.
KP: You have mentioned that having a son has affected your thinking or philosophy in making the record.
SC: Yes, definitely. Nothing like having a child to completely change you. You don’t think it will, especially when you are as old as I am – I’m almost 40 years old. But it really does change you. It really does.
KP: I keep telling my two daughters that they are going to have to clean up the mess that we made for them.
SC: (laughs) So you know exactly what I mean! And you’re afraid of what you left them. To me, things were simpler at one point. You go to school, and then you get out of school, get a job, move out of your parents’ house and start your own life. Kids cannot do that now. So many educated people that can’t get a job if they tried. Everything has changed for young people. I feel like for my little guy, it’s going to be even crazier. The record has a whole lot about that in it.
KP: That’s one thing I’ve always loved about your music is that you are not afraid to tackle the issues of the day. Your music not only moves you but also makes you think at the same time.
SC: Thank you. It’s funny. I say from the stage that I know these songs and these topics won’t make me popular among some people, but it makes me feel good that I can do what I love and still say things that are important. God knows I’m not trying to be a preacher, but I like to tell the truth.
KP: With the new record, you tackled some different styles of music than I’ve heard in previous records. I heard some Americana, and I even heard some country. Am I getting that right? Your records have always had a bit of a stew of soul and blues and rock, but this one seems to be a bigger stew.
SC: It is definitely a bigger stew. I was just fortunate enough to work with Will Kimbrough. He is talented in so many different musical styles, and it’s easy for him to transition into this, that or the other so it’s easy to mix it up. And then working with Rhiannon Giddens and having banjo on a blues record. I love that! Taj Mahal did things like that, and I always admired him for it. For me, to have banjo on a blues record and have John Prine and Emmylou Harris on a record, it really was a joy for me. These people came and sang this music and it wasn’t about the genre, it was about the love of music and making good music with good people.
KP: You just rattled off some of my musical heroes. How did you get these people to sing on your record?
SC: It was very organic. There was a show at the Civic Opera House in Chicago called Chicago Voices, and it was all different artists from Chicago representing different genres of music. I was there to represent blues, and John Prine was there to represent folk music. We also had classical and jazz and opera and blues and folk – it was just a big ol’ melting pot of music. John and I sang a song together, “Paradise,” his popular song among the thousands of songs he wrote. He told me he liked my shoes, and that’s pretty much how it started. His wife, Fiona, she’s a lovely woman. She works for this organization, which is right up my alley, called Thistle Farms. This group takes care of battered women and women who have been through hell, hell that we could never even imagine. She asked me to do a benefit for the foundation after she heard my music, because I’ve done songs about domestic violence – date rape and things like that. So, I’m making a record and ask him to sing on it. It just worked out perfectly.
KP: You mentioned Will Kimbrough. What was it like working with him? How did that happen?
SC: I met Will through Oliver Wood, who produced my three albums before this one. I absolutely love Oliver. He’s another one of those amazingly talented people that I was lucky enough to work with. He also wrote a song on this record called “Such a Pretty Flame.” When we were recording the last record (Outskirts of Love), Oliver called in Will to play some guitar on the record and that’s how we started our relationship. Of course, we fell in love with Will because he’s such a great guy.
KP: He can play just about anything.
SC: Exactly, he can. He did great guitar work on the last record, and there you go, another organic relationship started from there.
KP: You’ve worked with Oliver and John Hahn for a long time. I understand they bring songs to you, and you have a sort of veto power on whether to do the song or not.
SC: Well, it’s more than that. These songs are tailor-made for me. I’ve known John Hahn since I was 8 years old. We discuss everything – political, and personal and everything. He’s my go-to guy for these things and that’s how these things start for me.
KP: So, a conversation with him turns into lyrics and then music.
SC: Exactly.
KP: You’ve spoken in the past about how your singing has changed since you gotten older that you can move the audience with your voice in the subtleties and how you sing. Can you tell me more about that?
SC: That evolved by working with Oliver. With my blues background, I belted and sang hard, and that’s just what you do in blues. Working with Oliver, I learned that you can actually move the audience without that. It’s actually been a healthy thing for me in working with my instrument because my voice is all that I have. It made me want to take voice lessons and really learn how to sing. And I’m still a work in progress.
KP: You worked with someone else who I really admire on the new record—Mary Gauthier. I absolutely loved her last record, Rifle and Rosary Beads.
SC: Yeah, it is a brilliant record. I absolutely adore her. She’s really the biggest advocate for me so far. She has been so unbelievably helpful to us with this record. Just writing with John, and wanting to be a part of this record, it just means so much to us. We love her so much.
KP: She wrote two songs: “Smoked Ham and Peaches” and “Americans”?
SC: Yes. She and John got together and those are the songs that they wrote.
KP: She just makes it look so easy.
SC: I know, people say things like I’m a songwriter and they say it so nonchalantly, so casually you know. “I’m a songwriter.” Here’s the thing – there’s a difference between songwriters and people who write songs. You know what I mean by that?
KP: Tell me more about that.
SC: Technically, I’m a songwriter because I’ve written songs with John and with Dr. John, and I got songwriting credits. But that doesn’t make me a songwriter no more than cooking dinner for my family makes me a chef. People don’t know there’s a difference. There’s an art to this stuff. Just because you put pen to paper doesn’t make you John Hiatt. That’s a special talent. Mary is a songwriter, and a great one.
KP: I know we can go on and on about this next question. I wanted to get a sense about your father. I really loved him when he was playing and I know he had a big part in launching your music career. You started singing with him at age 8 and recorded your first album at 19. Can you tell me a little more about how he got you started?
SC: I had music in my house from day one. It reminds me of my little guy, who also loves music because he was hearing it in my belly. I was doing gigs up to six days before he was born. Music has been such a huge part of his life and I notice how much he loves it. The music, the instruments, all of it—he absolutely loves it and that’s what happened to me. I was around it constantly. There wasn’t no time that my father wasn’t sitting around the house strumming a guitar, writing songs and making music and that’s how it got started. I fell in love with the music. My father started to bring me out on the road with him, and I would sing songs with him, and bam, before you know it, you’re into it.
KP: I remember reading that he played a lot of different record types in the house.
SC: Oh yeah! He had a very eclectic taste in music. My father loved MUSIC. It wasn’t just about the blues. My father was from Texas, so you know, people would think, why are you doing country music? I was just at a gig the other night and this lady said, “I saw you with your dad when you were 15 years old and you were singing ‘I’m so Lonesome I Could Cry” (Hank Williams). Country was a big influence in my house.
KP: What does your little guy like to listen to? What does he groove to?
SC: It’s funny. He knows his mamma, that’s for sure. But he likes all kinds of music. I love his reaction to classical music. He absolutely loves classical music (laughs). He reacts just as much to it as he does to rock and roll, or blues. It’s pretty interesting to me.
KP: That’s great. He’s going to be an educated music fan.
SC: Yeah, I feel like I’m doing something right with this little one. He loves music. Loves it.
KP: I only have a couple more questions because I know you are racing around, getting ready to leave.
SC: I’m packing while I’m talking to you, Honey. (laughs)
KP: I’ve always admired the song “Ghetto Child.” I think it’s a real highlight of your show and I know your dad wrote it. Tell me about that song and what it means to you.
SC: It’s actually depressing to me now. The fact that it’s a 60-year-old song and completely relevant today. It makes me sad to say that we are still fighting the same fight. It’s unbelievable, but it’s a great song that my daddy wrote about kids that were growing up in the 3rdWard in Texas. I grew up in Harlem and I don’t even have to tell you what was going on in Harlem in the 80’s and 90’s. I thought this song is perfect back then and now here it is 20- some years since I recorded it the first time. It’s still relevant. It’s unbelievable. It’s a great song.
KP: I saw your show in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, earlier this year. I don’t know if you do this at all your shows, but you were walking through the crowd when you were singing “Ghetto Child.” Is that a staple of your shows?
SC: I try to do that often when given the opportunity.
KP: Just to get the crowd into it?
SC: Just to be closer to the crowd.
KP: You’re going on a pretty big tour. What can people expect from a Shemekia Copeland concert?
SC: My guys and I have been together for a really long time and we love each other and we love doing what we do, and I think people can kind of feel that. It will be a big melting pot of 20 years of Shemekia Copeland. We try to do something from each record.
KP: Congratulations on the new album—it’s terrific. Good luck on the tour. I can’t wait to see you again when you come out my way.
SC: Thanks so much. Talk to you soon.
For more information on Shemekia Copeland and America’s Child:
Shaped by Blues and Country, Shemekia Copeland Launches ‘Uncivil War’ (Part 1 of 2)
At just 41 years old, Shemekia Copeland is already an established multi-decade blues veteran. That’s what happens when you start performing as a pre-teen with your blues legend father Johnny Clyde Copeland and make your recorded debut at 18. As one of the primary hosts on SiriusXM’s BB King’s Bluesville channel, she’s also one of the genre’s highest-profile artists. A recent series of albums have both underlined Copeland as a star of the blues and pushed her beyond the walls of the genre, further into Americana and socially conscious commentary.
Her latest, Uncivil War, is another bold step forward. Recorded in Nashville with producer Will Kimbrough, the album features a wide range of guest performers, including Jason Isbell, Christone “Kingfish” Ingram, Steve Cropper, Duane Eddy, Webb Wilder and bluegrass legends Sam Bush and Jerry Douglas. She pushes boundaries not just with the instrumentation but the topics she covers, including “Clotilda’s on Fire,” which tells the story of the last slave ship to come to the U.S., and the title track, “Uncivil War,” is a plea for healing in our increasingly divided nation.
“Americana was not on my radar, but I grew up listening to country music because my dad grew up in Texas and loved it,” Copeland tells BGS. “I’d walk around the house singing Patsy Cline and Hank Williams songs that my dad loved, but I hadn’t really even heard anything about the blend of country and roots music until a few years ago, so I think it’s kind of hilarious that people are saying I’m crossing over to Americana. But I welcome all listeners!”
Editor’s Note: Read the second half of our interview with Shemekia Copeland here.
BGS: Over the past few albums, you’ve really stretched out musically and part of that is working with a wide range of musicians, many from outside the blues world. Let’s talk about a few of them on the new record, starting with two bluegrass greats, Sam Bush and Jerry Douglas.
SC: Oh my gosh! They are just really talented guys who make anything better. I just love those guys! I think my favorite part about them is that they exemplify something I love about Nashville: nobody cares about genre. It’s all about just whether or not it’s a good song and whether they want to play on it. And that’s it.
You think that’s notably different than other places? Do you find that not to be the case in New York or Chicago, for instance?
I have to say yes to that. I think it’s different in Nashville. People just want to play music. Down there, nobody ever even asks, “How much does it pay?” They’re just like, “What time do I need to show up?” It’s really about the music and Will Kimbrough, who produced the last two records, knows everyone in town and has played with most of them.
Jason Isbell is another great guest on this album and plays a great solo on “Clotilda’s on Fire.”
Yes, that one was a little different. We did a show at the Grand Ole Opry together, so Jason knew who I was when Will called and asked him to play on this song, and he was ready to do it. “Clotilda’s on Fire” is about the slave ship that they found off the coast of Alabama, and he’s from Alabama and we wanted him to play lead guitar on it. It just felt natural. It’s amazing how organically these things happen.
That song is really powerful and it’s just one of several very topical tunes on this record. That’s something different that you’ve really established. The first four songs are not about personal things like heartbreak, but heavy topics addressed in interesting ways. You have “Clotilda’s on Fire,” about the last slave ship; “Walk Until I Ride,” a modern-day Civil Rights anthem; and “Uncivil War” and “Money Makes You Ugly,” whose titles speak for themselves. Did you make a very conscious decision to do this?
Absolutely! I’ve been doing it for several records now. And I think the more confident I get, the better I get at it, and the more comfortable I get with saying what’s on my mind. Like on America’s Child, I did “Would You Take My Blood?” which was the first time I ever tackled a song about racism. On previous records, I did songs about domestic violence, date rape, things like that. But it feels more imperative than ever with everything that’s going on in this country now — and this was before COVID-19. This record was finished when all of this crap happened.
I was struck by the story about the Clotilda ever since the ship was found off the coast of Alabama. My ancestors came over here on one of those ships. I did my DNA and I’m 87 percent African, so I was very interested in that story. I wanted people to know about it and, more importantly, to understand why it still matters so much. The line in that song that’s one of the most important to me is “We’re still living with her ghost.” I want people to know that it hasn’t ended, that we’re still going through the same stuff and it’s very, very saddening. Heartbreaking, really.
Have you had any backlash to being more outspoken?
Oh, of course.
Do you care?
Not at all. You can’t satisfy everyone. The one thing that I’ve learned in my career is you’re going to piss somebody off. Not everybody’s gonna be happy with you. It’s just that simple, and it’s okay. Nobody wants their difficult history dredged up and put out in front of their face, but I’m good as long as I can look at myself in the mirror every day and be happy with myself.
Amidst all the great new original songs is a cool cover of The Rolling Stones’ “Under My Thumb.” How did you choose that one?
Doing that song was, for me, turning the tables on men. In fact, I actually hate it as a Stones song. I don’t want a man talking about a woman in that way — but it’s a great song! I don’t want to think of a woman being under anyone’s thumb, so the tables were turned… but one critic listened to it and said, “She’s talking about Black women being oppressed in this country.” I thought, “They’re making me sound so smart!” Same thing with “No Heart at All,” which a lot of people have read a lot into and interpreted as being about the president. Okay, but that goes for anyone who doesn’t have one.
That’s interesting about “Under My Thumb.” There’s a power to a woman flipping a song as Aretha did with Otis Redding’s “Respect.” That’s a completely different song sung from a woman’s perspective.
Yeah, to me, a guy singing that is just not right. Doesn’t work. Like, I couldn’t do some standard songs, as much as I love them. I would never want to sing things like “I’d Rather Go Blind” because, shit, I don’t want to go blind. You want to go? Get to steppin’! I don’t need you here. You know what I mean? It’s like this great love song but it leaves me saying, screw that. Peace out.
And you’d never think of Etta James as a pushover in any way! You were close with Koko Taylor, who turned some songs around as well.
She did! “I’m a Woman” was her turning the tables on men. I was devastated when we lost her [in 2009] because she always checked on me. She was so worried about me being in this business because of what she went through with her musicians and managers. Meanwhile, I’m out on the road with all these square guys that only drink herbal tea and don’t even smoke cigarettes. This was not her experience at all! I don’t think that she realized that it was just a different time. She had managers stealing money and disappearing into crack dens. She went through some stuff and wanted to make sure that I could avoid them.
You have a very interesting relationship with your manager, John Hahn, who is also your primary songwriter. How did that develop?
I met John when I was 8 years old. When my friends came around, I’d say, “This is Mr. John Hahn and he’s my manager.” Really, he was working with my father and I was just a little kid talking shit. But when I was about 12, he wrote me a song called “Daddy’s Little Girl” for fun. I started to go sit in with my dad. Now fast forward 33 years or so, and John and I talk every day on the phone, about everything. Having someone who knows me so well write songs is like having a tailor make you a suit. These songs are tailor-made to me, and I’m very fortunate to have that.
Your father was a great songwriter who wrote simple but profound lyrics that really resonated with me. Obviously you agree because almost every album you do one of his tunes, this time “Love Song.”
Yes, thank you! People have suggested I could do a whole record of my daddy’s songs, but this is my subtle way of doing it. I’ve already done ten of them. And, I got to tell you, I do believe that my little boy Johnny is my father reincarnated. He acts just like him. He’s three-and-a-half years old, and is so damn sure of himself. This kid knows who he is. He is arrogant in his confidence, and I always felt my father to be that way. Kind and sweet, but definitely sure of himself. You couldn’t tell him who he was, because he knew. And this little boy is all that and a bag of chips. By the way, my dad knew that I was going to be a singer the second that I came out of the womb.
That’s amazing. How?
I don’t know, but he told my mother when she was holding me in her arms, “She’s going to be a singer.”
And you always feel that way?
No! I did not have the confidence to be a singer. I never wanted to be in front of people. Audiences scared me. I’d always ask my dad how he could get up there in front of all those people and perform. That was always a problem for me.
But you did it from such a young age. I saw you when you were about 12!
I did, but I never was comfortable with it. And it’s now my favorite part. The music business sucks, but performing in front of people is the most amazing feeling in the world. That didn’t come to me until I got older, and became more confident in myself. I had to grow up. Eventually I realized this is who I am.
When was that? You put out your first record at 19.
It’s gotten better over the years. You’re always a work in progress. I started out as a child, and a certain confidence comes in when you’ve been doing it a couple of decades! You never ever stop paying your dues, but I’ve now accepted me wholeheartedly.
(Editor’s Note: Read the second half of our interview with Shemekia Copeland here.)
Over the last 10 years, in a series of albums recorded with producers Oliver Wood and Will Kimbrough, Shemekia Copeland has progressed from a first-class blues belter into a wider-ranging, more nuanced artist whose music touches on Americana, rock, and country — and she’s still a first-class blues belter.
In addition to working with Kimbrough on her new album Uncivil War and 2018’s America’s Child, Copeland has recorded with artists like John Prine, Emmylou Harris, and ZZ Top’s Billy Gibbons. In part two of our interview with Copeland, whose father is the late Texas blues great, Johnny Clyde Copeland, we discuss her musical development and the lessons she learned while teaming with these and other unlikely collaborators.
Editor’s Note: Read the first part of our two-part interview with Shemekia Copeland.
BGS: Over your last four albums, you’ve worked with producers Oliver Wood and Will Kimbrough, mostly in Nashville, and really started to open up the instrumentation and type of songs you’ve recorded. So I have a chicken and the egg question: did you start working differently because you wanted to change, or did you change because you worked with different people in different places?
SC: It happened organically. The first record with Oliver was in Atlanta and then he moved to Nashville, because everybody moves to Nashville, because that’s where musicians and studios are, and it’s inexpensive to work there. Oliver had Will Kimbrough come in and play and I was a big fan of his. When he played on my record, it was love at first note, because he’s just a musical genius.
We did our last record America’s Child with him and he just knows everyone. Nashville is such a small town in that way. All the musicians know, respect, and love each other. Will would say, “So-and-so would sound good on this. Let’s call him,” and within a day they’d have these guys in the studio that you couldn’t imagine working with as a blues artist, because you don’t know them. The gates of Heaven opened up being in Nashville because that’s where everybody is.
I love him. He’s a very talented player and writer, and the best thing about him was that he really encouraged me to think about how I sing. I came from the blues shouter way of singing, and from him I learned that you don’t have to do that to move people. That was huge for me, to learn that you can capture people with subtlety just as much as you can capture them with the hugeness of your voice. We had that conversation and I took that away from working with him and have carried it on.
“Uncivil War” is a perfect example. I did not want to sing that song. I thought it was is a pretty song for somebody with a pretty voice to sing. I wanted the world to hear it and figured they would not if it was coming from me, because I don’t have a pretty voice. That’s when they all yelled at me and said I was being completely ridiculous and to just sing the damn song. But I still struggle with thinking that the subtleties of my voice work. I was just using the power of my voice more like a Koko Taylor, or Etta James.
Let’s talk about some of these people you’ve worked with. You did a duet with John Prine on his lesser-known blues song “Great Rain.” Tell me about that.
That happened completely organically, but here in Chicago, though he lived in Nashville. He’s originally from Illinois and we were both on a concert called Voices of Chicago. I was there to represent blues and John was there to represent the fact that he’s just frickin’ amazing. We were backstage and I’m standing there looking at John Prine thinking, “Oh my God, I’m standing here looking at John Prine.” And he looked down at my feet and said, “I love your shoes!” We started talking and I fell in love with his wife, Fiona. Amazing people. We got to talkin’, started working on projects together, and the rest is history. People like him know how to break the ice with people when they’re nervous around them.
That was just a Will Kimbrough connection. I met her a couple times, like in passing at festivals, but her being on “America’s Child” was Will. He plays with her. She heard the song, loved it, and wanted to sing on it, which was beautiful.
Steve Cropper, who produced The Soul Truth (2005), also plays on the new one.
Who doesn’t love Steve Cropper? He wrote all the hit songs that you can think of. I love working with him, loved his energy. We wanted to do something different after the Dr. John record [2002’s Talking to Strangers], so we thought, why not try to get a soulful record? And who better to make a soulful record than Steve Cropper? He also played on all the songs and Steve Cropper plays like Steve Cropper. He has a sound all his own. You know when you’re listening to him.
What about Billy Gibbons?
Billy was a big fan of Johnny Copeland; he went and saw my dad perform all the time when he was a kid. I was hanging out with him in India [at the 2017 Mahindra Blues Festival in Mumbai] and we were talking about all that. I wanted to do “Jesus Just Left Chicago” and John [Hahn, Copeland’s manager] had the bright idea to ask him. I never would have been ballsy enough to do that. Thank God for managers and producers.
Yeah, and she sounded amazing on it. Oh, my gosh. I was a big fan of her and Dom Flemons and the Carolina Chocolate Drops! Just a group of interesting, amazing, talented people. But then I saw her perform as a headliner of the Chicago Blues Festival and she was just incredible. I really wanted to work on it and was so happy when she said she was aware of me, and would love to do it.
It’s probably the most acoustic, downhome song you’ve done and a good example of why some people started talking about you and Americana and not just blues.
I’ve always listened to country and bluegrass, even if I didn’t know who I was listening to. I just liked the instrumentation of it and the singers and lyrics. Americana was not on my radar, but I grew up listening to country music because my dad grew up in Texas and loved it. I’d walk around the house singing Patsy Cline and Hank Williams songs that my dad loved, but I hadn’t really even heard anything about the blend of country and roots music until a few years ago, so I think it’s kind of hilarious that people are saying I’m crossing over to Americana. But I welcome all listeners!
Has your audience changed over the course of these last few albums?
Yes, especially since America’s Child, but even going back to [2009’s] Never Going Back, I started getting people at my shows saying stuff like, “You know, I’m not really into blues, but I love what you do.” And I’m like, “Well, if you’re listening to me, then you could probably say you’re into blues. I think you’re more into the blues than you think you are!” I always hoped that I was getting fans that weren’t just blues fans, and I think the audience is growing a little bit for me — at least I hope so!
(Editor’s Note: Read the first part of our two-part interview with Shemekia Copeland.)
Photo credit: Mike White
https://www.bluesblastmagazine.com/featured-interview-shemekia-copeland/
Featured Interview – Shemekia Copeland
About one third of the way through our hour long conversation with Blues Queen Shemekia Copeland she suddenly, momentarily breaks it off, promising to call us right back on a different line.
“You know what Honey? I’m gonna call you right back on my house phone right now okay?”
Seconds later we reconnect and she explains the situation.
“I’m sorry. My cell phone only works when I sit in a certain spot and I’m making my husband breakfast.” We offer apologies for intruding on Mr. Orlando Wright’s breakfast and continue where we left off which was talking about Shemekia’s working with Dr. John on her 2002 album, Talking To Strangers. When asked whose decision it was to use Dr. John as the producer she unabashedly states the decision was hers.
“It was my decision. I’ve had a relationship with him since I was a kid. He was a great friend of my father’s and was a big supporter of me from the very beginning of my career. So it was a natural thing to do, for me to want to be with him.”
We wrote some songs together. We had a ball. We had so many people, so many great musicians. Herman Ernest, who played drums with him for many years and is now passed away was on the project. Dave Barard played bass. We just had an amazing time. It was just awesome. It was really, really great.
We recorded at the Hit Factory in New York . That was when Mac (Dr. John)was still living’ in New York . He’s not living there now.”
Three years after Talking To Strangers, Memphis Soul Man Steve Cropper was at the production helm for Shemekia’s The Soul Truth release.
“I didn’t know he was producing, but when I found out he was, I was like oh, that’s a wonderful idea. Until we did that project, he hadn’t produced in many, many years, so I was excited when I found out. Working with Dr. John was about the closest experience I had to working with my father. Working with Cropper, you know, he had a whole different type of energy. Dr. John is about the most laid back cat you’re ever gonna meet in your life. Cropper is the complete opposite; energy, energy, energy, energy, energy. They were both completely different but great experiences.”
On the liner notes to The Soul Truth, Steve Cropper thanks the late Dobie Gray. Reflecting on Dobie Gray and more recently, Popsy Holmes, Shemekia waxes nostalgic.
“I’m glad I got a chance to work with him before we lost him. We did a duet together, and he sang background vocals too. We’re losing so many great artists. I just found out last night that Popsy Dixon of The Holmes Brothers has stage four bladder cancer and is in hospice. (Popsy Dixon passed away on January 9, 2015, before this story was published. RIP.)
I’m destroyed by that. I adore him.I love all those guys. I’ve been seeing The Holmes Brothers since I was a kid. My father used to take me to see those guys when they lived in New York. I’m sorry for him and his brothers. They’re so tight. It breaks my heart.”
In a prior Blues Blast interview, Sherman Holmes of The Holmes Brothers related how the group would like to again play more dates than the 150 or so per year they’ve been averaging in recent years. Shemekia comments on their work ethic.
“That’s amazing, those guys still wanna work. That’s the true test that you love what you are doing so much. I probably to about 100 dates a year and that’s down from when I originally started as well. Based on what we have done, I feel we could do more. But you know, I’m just grateful for any work I get.”
“You know, I was born old. I was born a little old lady so I didn’t have much in common with young people. I didn’t really have a whole lot of friends in high school. I was kinda doin’ my own thing, marching to the beat of my own drum. I was already an individual at that time. Never trying to keep up with a group or being involved in anything. You know, some kids were into sports. I wasn’t into that. Other kids were into silliness, which kids are supposed to be into. I never went to prom or homecoming or graduation or any of that. I was just not interested.
I was in choir for a little bit. Most of the music I did in school was actually in Jr. High school. By the time I got in High School I was kinda already doin’ my own thing with Blues. That wasn’t the type of music they were doing in choir in high school. So then I started pretty much spending most of my time going, then sittin’ in with dad and his band.”
She remembers the first time she travelled to Texas with her dad and meeting Trudy Lynn.
“The first time I went to Texas with my father, Trudy Lynn was there and that’s how I knew who she was. You know when you go to a lot of these towns, you’ll find a lot of well kept secrets within the town and I think that in Houston , she might be one of the well kept secrets.
I saw my dad doing some really cool things. He taught me that you don’t have to be put in a box just because you choose a particular genre of music. That we’re all connected, all the music is connected. It doesn’t matter if it’s Africa, Brazil or Asia . We’re all connected in some kind of way and musically, we can all put those sounds together and work together to make something beautiful, which people are doing and it’s wonderful.
People don’t realize what I’ve “stolen” from my father. I’m kinda grateful that I was born a girl. Because if I was a guitar player and a male, I think it would’ve been a whole lot harder for me, because people would do a whole lot more comparing. Fortunately, as a girl, they can’t see what I’ve taken from him as much. I mean, I’ve stolen all of his phrasing and voicing. If I was a guitar player, it would be a little bit harder for me cuz everybody would compare me more, saying, ‘she don’t sound like her daddy,’ or, she’s no Johnny Clyde Copeland. So being a female, they’re not gonna expect me to be that so it’s wonderful. Being female helps me a lot. Also you can come out and people will say, ‘oh, that’s Johnny Copeland’s daughter’ or ‘that’s so and son or daughter,’ but they don’t know if your gonna be any good. And you have to prove yourself so nobody can compare you if you are doing something completely different.”
Shemekia insists that she is still completely connected and surrounded by Johnny Clyde Copeland. She listens to her dad’s music all the time. She sheds a little light on how deep the connection is.
“Oh man, my father is spiritually all around me. I always feel like I don’t step on that stage without him. It’s real deep and I know for a fact he’s there. I’m not sayin’ I think he’s there. He’s there with others who take care of me and look after me. I also have a lot of great friends in spirit too that I think look after me or watch over me.”
She has also been blessed with a host of Blues icons in the physical that have taken and continue to take special interest in her well being.
“Ruth Brown and Koko Taylor were both incredibly kind to me. They showed nothing but love to me. Ruth Brown gave me the clothes off her back. When she found out that when my father died and I had no money, no nothin’ and I’d gotten nominated for a Blues Music Award, she went in her closet and gave me boxes of clothes. It was just a kind, kind gesture. So for the Blues Music Awards the first time out, I wore something she gave me.
Ruth Brown did important work for all artists in this business. She got totally screwed as far as royalties were concerned. So she worked tirelessly for the rights of and the education of artists after her so that it wouldn’t happen to them. That was very important.
And Koko Taylor, oh my God, she would call me and check on me, just to see how I was doing. Then she would call my mother and make sure that what I was telling her was correct. It’s a special kind of love and I’ll appreciate them always for that.
When I first started in this business, my mom went out on the road with me. She doesn’t go out with me now but I was grateful to have her cuz I was young and didn’t know what the hell I was doing.
Shoot, when I started in this business, everybody told me always like be careful. Watch out for drugs, watch out for this and that. When I came out on the road, people were bringin’ me tea and Ricola.
I’ve been pretty blessed. Most of the time I’ve run into very very positive, wonderful people out here on this road. Dr. John, Steve Cropper, B.B. King, Buddy Guy, Little Milton and his Road Manager Scrap Iron, all these people took me under their wing and all were very supportive. I really can’t complain.
Though no longer in production, Shemekia Copeland had her own 6 hour weekly radio show on the Sirius network which premiered in 2006.
“That was awesome. I mean, I really loved that. I had a ball doin’. It was great. The best part of it for me was that my show was 6 hours long and every hour I got to feature one of my favorite lady Blues singers and play a couple of their songs which, for me, was like, why I wanted to do the show. I feel like a lot of male artists are always played on the radio and female artists aren’t played enough. So I got to feature 6 ladies every show, which was awesome because I got to play more than one of their songs.
Some of the artists we featured were, of course Koko Taylor and Ruth Brown, Etta James, Bessie Smith, Memphis Minnie, Ma Rainey, I mean, the list goes on, Bonnie Raitt and Aretha Franklin. We definitely featured Sugar Pie DeSanto which was a great show because people were callin’ in cuz they hadn’t heard of her before. It was cool that we introduced a lot of people to Sugar Pie.
You know, I’ve never really gotten any chance to spend any time with her or talk to her, which makes me real sad, but I definitely love her and know of her and have a whole lotta respect for her.”
We eventually touch on a pet peeve of Shemekia Copeland’s-Artists who use the Blues to revive their careers.
“I feel like you have so many of us who do this music because we love it. We do it for the love of the music. I’m a lifer. I love Blues music, I’ve loved it from the beginning. I’ve always called myself a Blues artist and will continue to call myself a Blues artist no matter where the music might take me. And so many people use it to either help build their career and then they leave it, and they couldn’t give two craps about it, or their career is on a lull and they say ‘Oh okay, I’m just gonna put out a Blues record you know, and do something Bluesy. It’s okay if you’ve always loved it and you kinda wanna go back to it, but that wasn’t what you were originally doin’.”
Then there are the music critics who say Shemekia’s voice is so big that she could do well in other genres. She emphatically dismisses that theory.
“I say thank you, but I like doing what I’m doing. I don’t feel like being a Blues Musician limits me. Just because I call myself a Blues singer and I am a Blues singer doesn’t mean that I’m limited to just singing Blues. So if you have a Rock & Roll record and you want me to sing on it, call me.”
One of the many highlights of Shemekia’s career was her televised performance at the White House entitled “In Performance At The White House: Red, White and Blues.”
“It was amazing. It was just surreal. First of all, you’re in the White House, that’s number one and you’re preparing to play for two of the most important people in the world right now. And not only that, as far as being a musician is concerned, you are among some of the greatest. It was a big deal, amazing. And it’s such a wonderful thing to have someone in the White House who’s familiar with the music.
We ask her about the popularity of the Blues outside the United States.
“Well, I’m always amazed at how much people love this music outside of our country France Norway Switzerland. I couldn’t believe how many people came out to the Blues Festival in India when I was there. I’m grateful for it. I hope the fervor continues cuz I’ve got another forty years to work.
Speaking of work, Shemekia has nothing but praise for her working band that keeps, in her words, “The Shemekia Copeland train on the tracks. In April of 2015, Arthur Neilson will have been my guitarist 17 years. He directs us all. I have Kevin Jenkins on bass. He’s been with me for 10 years. Willie Scandlyn, my rhythm guitarist has been aboard over 5 years. My drummer has been with me a little over a year now. His name is Robin Gould.”
When urged to discuss her songwriting process, Shemekia reveals that, “I’m more of an idea person. I don’t sit down with a piece of paper and say, ‘okay, I’m gonna write a song now.’ I don’t think it can happen organically when you do things that way. That’s why I think there’s so much crap out there. I feel like everybody thinks they’re a songwriter, when, in reality, they’re somebody who just writes a song, which is completely different from being a songwriter.
There’s a real art to it that many people don’t possess, but feel they do. They singlehandedly help with the demise of the music business. I remember when people used to make whole records and the record had a theme. To get the whole big picture you actually had to listen to the whole thing. Now, everybody just wants to hear the one song cuz they know the rest of it is gonna be crap.
My favorite songwriters are Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, John Hiatt, Sam Cooke, Otis Redding. Steve Cropper is a great songwriter. All the guys from Motown who wrote. They were pushing out some amazing songs and lyrics. It would really help if people knew the difference between great songwriters and people who just write songs.” (Laughs)
As we come to the end of our exchange, Shemekia reiterates her commitment to her craft . “I’m a lifer in the Blues and I’ve loved it from the beginning. I’ve got another 40 years to work. At least.
https://www.wbur.org/hereandnow/2021/07/16/copeland-alligator-records-blues
Singer Shemekia Copeland Looks Back On 50 Years Of Chicago Blues
by Don Gonyea, Xcaret Nuñez
July 16, 2021
WBUR.org
To celebrate the 50th anniversary of Chicago's own Alligator Records, the legendary independent label has released a new album called “50 Years of Genuine Houserockin' Music.”
The album recognizes the voices of many great blues artists that once recorded with the label such as Koko Taylor, Albert Collins, James Cotton and Shemekia Copeland.
For Copeland, growing up listening to blues greats — like Hound Dog Taylor and the HouseRockers — reminds her of her roots, she says. So, it makes sense Hound Dog Taylor and similar artists are her go-to listens.
“These days, it's what you have to hold on to,” she says. “It's a part of our history, a part of our culture.”
Copeland says the perfect blend of many artists’ voices and where they come from before finding their sound in Chicago is what makes Chicago blues music true to itself.
“They brought all the goodness from where they came from with them and then made it into their own in Chicago,” Copeland says.
Koko Taylor, the “Queen of the Blues,” is another legend featured on the label’s album and who is well known for her song “I’m a Woman.”
Copeland says Taylor’s voice, personality and stage presence embodied everything a queen should. Speaking to the strength and resilience of growing up as a woman, Taylor adapted “I’m a Woman'' from rock musician Bo Diddley.
“It was a whole lot of ‘I'm a Man’ song,” Copeland says. “So [Taylor] said, 'I'm gonna turn this around.' And that's exactly what she did. And it's just such a great song.”
Taylor has served as Copeland’s biggest inspiration throughout her musical career. Before Taylor died in 2009, Copeland says she had the opportunity to open performances for her and develop a friendship.
Copeland recalls the advice Taylor would often give her when she first began her career.
“She told me ‘You're going to have some good gigs and some bad gigs. Some good days and some bad days,’ ” Copeland says. “ ‘But you just pick yourself up and keep going and look to the hills.’ That's what she always told me. Look to the hills. And I knew exactly what it meant.”
Copeland is not only known for her own blues sound but also for being renowned blues artist Johnny Copeland’s daughter. Copeland says she believes her father’s Grammy award-winning album “Showdown!”, released by Alligator Records, is one of the best blues albums ever made.
“To me, my dad was the most incredible artist in the whole world,” Copeland says. “But, you know, I'm biased.”
Memories of being on the road with her late father at an early age remind Copeland of all that she learned from him when it comes to being a blues performer, she says.
“One of my favorite things he always used to say is, ‘When you go on stage, you always give it 100%,’ ” Copeland says. “And I saw him do that — and so I always do that.”
Copeland also relates to Mavis Staples. Although Staples is praised as a gospel and soul singer, Alligator Records features her in its 50th-anniversary collection.
“I always say that I'm a blues singer,” Copeland says. “So, no matter what I sing, no matter what genre it is, it sounds like blues. And she's a gospel singer. So no matter what she sings, it sounds like gospel to me. And she gives me goose pimples every time I hear her.”
Copeland’s newest album, “Uncivil War,” blends both elements, gospel and blues. She even added three Blues Music Award honors to her impressive awards shelf in June. She says her ninth album release was inspired by the current events of the past year.
“I just hated to see the direction that we were going as a country, all the divisiveness, and it was just heartbreaking to me,” Copeland says. “How long do we have to continue doing the same things … before we realize that we are all Americans and … we should we shouldn't hate on one another?”
Alligator Records jumpstarted Copeland’s famed career in 1998, and she says she’s grateful for the open-mindedness the label has always welcomed her with. Without Alligator Records, Copeland may not be the experimental blues artist she is today.
“They just accept whatever I throw at them,” she says. “Banjos and fiddles and just all different styles of music that I'm incorporating into blues — and I appreciate that.”
Lynn Menegon produced this interview and edited it for broadcast with Todd Mundt. Xcaret Nuñez adapted this interview for the web.
This segment aired on July 16, 2021.
Related:
Shemekia Copeland brings the blues to Berkeley
The child of blues royalty, Shemekia Copeland made her recording debut at the tender age of 19. Her 1998 album Turn Up the Heat (Alligator) introduced a prodigious new talent already road-seasoned from touring with her father, Texas blues great Johnny Copeland. She’s more than lived up to her promise since then, collecting awards and amassing honors with an intermittent flow of albums (2015’s excellent Outskirts of Love found her back on the Alligator label after a fruitful stint at Telarc).
“I like to take my time,” says Copeland, 36, who performs at Freight & Salvage 8 p.m. Saturday. “I don’t like to be rushed. We handpick songs, and that makes the biggest difference. A lot of people put out records so quick. Everybody’s in a hurry and that contributes to the demise of this business. I always say, what you put out into the universe is so important, you’ve got to take your time. I often wonder if these young girls who make records these days are going to be proud of what they did later on.”
Copeland learned all about quality control at the feet of her father, a soul-drenched guitarist and singer who born in Louisiana and came of age on the Houston scene inspired by T-Bone Walker. Comfortable collaborating with a wide array of artists, he recorded with jazz masters like Arthur Blythe, George Adams and Randy Weston and zydeco legend Buckwheat Zydeco. When health problems slowed him down in the mid-1990s (he died in 1998 at the age of 60), Copeland brought his knee-high daughter on the road, and she soaked up musical insight by his side.
“What’s being instilled as a child definitely effects you later on,” she says. “Music was always very important to my father, and I watch him write down something, go back and change it, work on it and work on it. I watched that process all my life.”
Copeland’s formidable band features guitarist Willie Scandlyn, bassist Kevin Jenkins, drummer Robin Gould, and lead guitarist Arthur Neilson, who’s been with her since 1998. While she’s self-deprecating about her role as a bandleader (“This is pretty much Arthur’s band and I’m the chick singer,” she says), Copeland is a savvy artist who like her father hasn’t been bounded by stylistic conventions.
Produced by The Wood Brothers’ Oliver Wood, Outskirts of Love features her Afrobeat-tinged take on his “Devil’s Hand” (Johnny Copeland was one of the first blues artists to make an album in Africa with 1985’s Ivory Coast-recorded Bringing It All Back Home on Rounder). Most impressive is the way she puts her stamp on songs defined by artists like from Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee (“The Battle Is Over”) and Solomon Burke (“I Feel A Sin Coming On”) to ZZ Top (“Jesus Just Left Chicago) and Creedence Clearwater Revival (“Long As I Can See The Light”). Whatever she sings, Copeland makes it the blues, and she doesn’t have much time for people who police the music’s borders.
“It’s a contemporary blues record, that’s what it is,” Copeland says. “I don’t understand blues purists. Everyone has borrowed from the blues in some shape or form, but when we borrow it’s not blues anymore? All I do is take a little bit from what I love and listen to. We’re all brothers and sisters in this music, jazz, blues and rock ‘n’ roll, gospel. We’re all connected. Whether it’s Pavarotti or Brazilian samba, if I’m singing it it’s blues.”
