Running With Cheese

Though most of us arrived together in LA the day before, the whole Gospel Tour 2009 tour group met for the first time in Memphis on a hot Friday evening. After a brief rehearsal, we all hit Beale st, where the bulk of us could be found listening to the Masqueraders, a veteran Black band singing gorgeous classic R&B harmonies. The next day, we rehearsed and attended two festivals: a) WLOK Stone soul picnic gospel festival on the banks of the Mississippi, which featured loud contemporary gospel - some very funky grooves and good harmonies; and b) the Memphis Music and Heritage Festival on various stages along Main St. The falsettist with male quartet the Sensational Six amazed everyone, and the female quartet the Moments of Joy were outstanding - five great voices (backed up by guitar, bass and drums) and a ferocious but sweet delivery of traditional gospel with the odd jazzy interpolation. Joyous and moving.


The Moments of Joy

    After that the whole group went to a program at Bethlehem Missionary Baptist Church, organised by my old friend Mae Barnes. There we heard the Stirling Singers (led by another old friend Virgie Stirling) who were wonderful - a wonderfully raw sound, behind lead Virgie’s husband Willie—whose 85 years didn’t inhibit his delivery, sinking to his knees and all. Later the two members present of another veteran quartet the Flying Clouds were joined by Virgie and Willie on a couple of great songs.


The Stirling Singers

    The ANZAC mob performed four songs creditably at this, our first gig, and Phil Heuzenroeder soloed with abandon on Well well well. Another old friend the lovely baritone Louise Jefferson sang an intense solo, and a miss Anderson, looking fabulous in red, sang All my help. Mae finished proceedings with a heartfelt and moving By the grace of God I’ve come a long way. She really sang her own story, and it came from deep down. Way down. Then she talked about how she met me 23 years ago: my mentor in Memphis, George Rooks set it up for me to attend a rehearsal by Mae’s quartet the Divine Echoes. Mae’s response to George was ‘How do I entertain a white man?’— it’s funny now, but it still speaks to the racial divide that still exists in America.
    Back downtown, we heard a bit of Joyce Cobb singing the U2 song I still haven’t found what I’m lookin for while the (excellent) band backed her up by playing All blues—a wild and workable juxtaposition. Following that, just by way of complete contrast with what we had experienced in church, we had Bobby Rush with his two big-bootied babes and a very funky groove delivering sly and sleazy monologues.

    Sunday morning, we were back at Bethlehem MBC for their morning worship service. Instead of singing only two songs as I had anticipated, we ended up singing the five songs we knew and then some — Pastor Johnson requested I sing You don’t know what the Lord has done for me, on which I got help from congregation and choir. Pastor Johnson struck me as being a very generous and loving man, and the humility, graciousness, good humour and love exuded by the church on both occasions was remarkable. It’s only a small, local church but it seemed to have a big impact on the tour group. We had further opportunity to talk with the church folk when we all, visitors and congregation, went to the church basement for a wonderful lunch cooked with love by Mae and other members. Some of us stayed in the church to jam with organist Walter Hamilton, a funky and fluid master of the B3. More singing happened over lunch, when my mob wasn’t quizzing the Bethlehem members about every aspect of being a member of a Black church. Thanks again to Mae, Sarah, Delores, Walter, Kimberley and Pastor Johnson for inviting us and for providing such a rich experience.
    OK, back downtown about 4, the festival is still going, I caught up with my old professor, David Evans, fingerpicking some country blues with his 5-year-old grandson helpiing him out, then drifted to hear the Singing Southern Jubilees (who have a great bass singer), where I ran into Brown Berry, bass-player with the Spirit of Memphis, and I hung with him most of the evening. Then there were the Mellowtones who had my crowd up and boogying, but were way too loud and gauche for me, and then local hero Darrell Pettis who was grotesquely loud and heavy, I had to leave.
    
Monday: the National Civil Rights Museum is mandatory, and serves to put the songs we sing in perspective. After going through the museum, you have a new perspective on the struggle by Blacks to have a voice in their own country, and you approach the songs with more humility. I felt that we had to earn the right to sing their songs, and one way to earn it is to sing them with all the passion and commitment we could muster.
    In the evening, we went off to the National Baptist Convention Musical—now ‘musical’ here means a concert—featuring a slew of soloists from Memphis and a 400-voice choir, orchestra and band. Darrell Pettis, who had been so loud and aggressive the night before, redeemed himself with a beautiful solo on the Leaning on the everlasting arms. Every soloist was monumentally outstanding, but the 3-hour event  killed itself—it wasn’t just the liturgical dancing, and the squalling soprano high Cs, it was the overall lack of subtlety.       Everything was too big. Initially thrilling, the sound gradually wore me out, and I left after two hours.

Tuesday: the tour group appeared on Memphis TV: WREG Live at 9, broadcast from the mall at Peabody Place. Two songs and a chat with the aimiable hosts Mary Beth and Alex. Seemed to go well, and we were surprised (and touched) to find that Pastor Johnson from Bethlehem MBC had turned up to watch. After that, I abandoned everyone to their higher good or Graceland, and went off with Phil Heuzenroeder to shop for fancy suits (no luck) and music resources (a surfeit of luck) at the National Baptist Convention marketplace: A vast hall filled with outrageous hats, spiffy clothes (including ‘walking by faith’ socks), worship resources, music, hymn books, more hats and thousands of fabulously dressed African Americans. I took pains to hide the book I was carrying: Hellfire by Nick Tosches.