BLUES MECHANIC
David Waldman

Dave, an atypical cross between an absent-minded blues professor and street musician, is dressed in sneakers, jeans, and a shirt that may have been a last-minute rescue from the laundry hamper. He downplays solos, fitting them into tasty phrases that support and complement the tunes--a too quiet harper! In fact, I saw the band a few times before I was dragged into the undertow of his licks -- tasty and appropriate. He steadfastly refuses to put himself forward and that's a rarity, believe me. He once argued with Jimmy Rogers against being hired for a tour.

Dave Waldman was born in New York City in 1954. He grew up about thirty miles north in Croton-on-Hudson, a river town where folk singer Pete Seeger docked his sloop and played concerts to dramatize the need to stop river pollution. There Waldman heard amplified harp for the first time, but it "never took," until he reached the age of 13 when he got the blues bug. Waldman discovered Bukka White and LeRoy Carr on a Folkways album at a party. "They let me borrow it because I insisted they play it so many times they finally shut me up by letting me take it home." Relatively uninterested in music of his own generation, Waldman spent the years between 8th and 10th grade studying and absorbing pre-War blues. After 10th grade, the Muddy Waters band that he'd first seen when he was 11 years old--back when Otis Spann was on keys--captivated Dave. "They still had conks and when they played I thought, 'Man this is the toughest music I've ever heard in my life!'"

Waldman nurtured his growing love for harp (blues) through college at Columbia in New York. There he met harmonica player Kim Field and tracked down Muddy's harmonica player, Paul Oscher, for lessons. Oscher supercharged Dave's playing by introducing him to tongue blocking. When Dave's work at Columbia ended, he moved to Chicago and played every gig he could wrangle there for three years, before landing a regular gig with Big Smokey (Otis) Smothers (formerly with Howlin' Wolf and Muddy Waters). With guitarist Illinois Slim, and drummer Steve Cushing, they formed "Smokey Smothers and the Ice Cream Men." Dave became a regular every Sunday with Smokey, rushing over afterwards to do another gig with Tail Dragger (James Yancy Jones). These steady gigs saw him jamming with just about everybody: EddieTaylor, Big Leon Brooks, Sunnyland Slim, Louis & Dave Myers, and whenever he could with his regular rhythm pals: the Ice Cream Men (Illinois Slim and Steve Cushing).

The next 20 years brought Waldman through a full life of Chicago blues: touring with Jimmy Rogers (as piano player), the "Legendary Blues Band" (harp), playing steady weekly gigs and jamming with all comers. He also actively works to bring eclectic, traditional musicians to the annual University of Chicago Folk Festival; continues to work towards his Ph.D. in Philosophy; and hosts a Monday night blues radio program ("The Evil Show").

Waldman would rather think of himself as a blues musician who plays harmonica than a harmonica player who plays blues. Though several great players (Jerry Portnoy, Billy Flynn, Kim Wilson, etc.) have touted Dave's harmonica prowess, he also shines as a blues piano player and guitarist. Woefully under-recorded, Waldman displays talents on albums with Otis Smokey Smothers and his Ice Cream Men ("Got My Eyes, on You," Red Beans Label, RB009, 1986); Golden 'Big' Wheeler with the Ice Cream Men ("Big Wheeler's Bone Orchard," Delmark DE661, 1993 - guitar); Billy Flynn and friends on "Blues Today," (Easy Baby Records, CD 200, circa 1996 - harp); "Blues Before Sunrise, Live, Vol. 1" (Delmark DE699, 1997 - playing harp with John Brim and guitar with Big Wheeler); and with Billy Flynn and his SmokeDaddy Band ("The SmokeDaddy Band," Easy Baby Records EB400, 2000 - harp, and piano on cut 11 which amply demonstrates why he lost the argument with Jimmy Rogers about his piano prowess).

Recently Dave's become very interested in bluegrass and is trying to teach himself mandolin and fiddle. "I honestly think there's more blues feeling in a lot of that stuff than there is in most of the blues being played today," he said with a laugh of awareness about how incendiary that remark might be. Now I know he's gonna deny that he's anything special (he even denies being humble), but I remain unconvinced. This is a man who has loved, studied, and lived the blues groove for so long, it just seems like home to him.

CATHI: Was your first instrument harp?

DAVE: I started guitar at the same time I started learning harp. When I was in high we'd rent a generator and go out on these old dirt, back roads, or abandoned airports (laughs) and party.

CATHI: It's unusual that you immediately went for pre-War blues and not the usual teenage music.

DAVE: I've always like esoteric stuff. My friends couldn't understand it (laughs).

CATHI: Then Muddy turned up the heat?

DAVE: Yeah. When I first saw him, Paul Oscher was in the band and I thought, "Man, what a strange life this guy must have...involved in some cultural clashes!" It was ironic, because later I'd be associating with him. I played a little harp then, but I didn't take it seriously. I played more guitar with my fingers--no pick. Every white guy who plays blues thinks there is a "secret" to make you sound like blues masters. For Oscher it was listening to the bass; Steve Cushing thinks the secret is playing behind the beat; and I think it's that guitar players should play with their fingers. I know Billy (Flynn) plays great with his fingers.

CATHI: So Oscher turned your head around on harp?

DAVE: Yeah, I could bend notes, but I couldn't play by blocking notes with my tongue. I could play octaves, but not single notes. When I learned that, it completely changed everything. I'd see Oscher every time Muddy came to town. Then he left and went to live in Brooklyn. He was a bit of a forbidding figure. One of my friends called him the "Vic Morrow of the Blues" (laughs). Oscher got a band of his own and one thing he did was play three-card Monte with the people on the maintenance staff--like the janitors--and try to win money from them. That guy's really into what he conceives of as the blues lifestyle.

CATHI: So you approached him for lessons. Were they structured?

DAVE: No, absolutely not. He showed me stuff. I knew the licks, but I couldn't execute them with the tone that I wanted to have or get the proper syncopations that you get naturally if you use your tongue. I could always play octaves so I put some scotch tape over the bottom part of the harp. That got me into the habit of blowing with my tongue on the harp and having a single-note come out. From that I was able to go to playing single notes with my tongue and that changed everything. It's really a completely different sound.

CATHI: Were you ever into theory?

DAVE: No, I hate that! That's really bad because you know it's like "I know blues--first you have this chord and you do that for two measures and then that chord." That's very abstract and if you think it can be reduced to a description like that, you miss all the subtleties. I don't know, but somebody who's really interested in that probably won't be interested in blues.

CATHI: So how'd you get to Chicago?

DAVE: I left Columbia in January--I remember it because that was when Howlin' Wolf died--January of '76 I guess it was. I remember when Howlin' Wolf died more than anything about my history (laughs). I had to move and as long as I had to, I thought I might as move to Chicago. I knew Chicago was IT with the blues right from the beginning.

CATHI: Why didn't you just to go college in Chicago?

DAVE: Well, it wasn't really feasible for me to back then, but it's probably just as well--too much temptation. Dick Shurman went to U. of Chicago and he was telling me if he had a choice of studying for his German quiz or having Earl Hooker come by and pick him up to go to his gig, there wasn't much doubt in his mind about what he'd do. I would have been the same I'm afraid (laughs). I went to school, got a little restaurant job, and started sitting in everywhere. Stuff really started to happen about 1980. Big Smokey Smothers reappeared on the scene. There were two Smokey Smothers--Big Smokey (Otis Smothers) and Little Smokey (his younger brother Abe). They played completely differently. Little Smokey is really modern, a great guitar player who plays like Albert King and Little Milton. He's sort of jazzy with a liquid touch on the guitar. Otis was much more down home, into Muddy Waters, Jimmy Reed and stuff. They both played with Howlin' Wolf and Muddy Waters. I guess in the '60s they had a jam session at the "Blue Flame" club notable for starting off Paul Butterfield. Little Smokey basically taught Elvin Bishop and they're still friends. Big Smokey got a gig at "B.L.U.E.S." and I got hired to play harp with Illinois Slim on guitar. Jimmy Morelander played drums. We called our band "Smokey Smothers and the Ice Cream Men," partly because of the John Brim song, but also because Smokey was an ice cream man with a little refrigerator cart. He used to pedal it around and sell ice cream on the South Side.

CATHI: I LOVE those carts!

DAVE: Yeah, also, I'd been going out to sit in with Tail Dragger. He had Big Leon (Brooks) with him and he was great. Oh I should also mention I was going to Morris Brown's Lounge on 40th & Indiana. This was in the '70s and Willie Williams used to play there with great guitar players like Eddie Taylor or Eddie C. Campbell. I met a lot of harp players there--Willie Anderson, Lester Davenport, Jimmie Lee Robinson and the Myers Brothers too. So anyway, Eddie Taylor would sit in with him sometimes. Tail Dragger had been playing the "Kingston Mines" but became persona non grata because he always used to have these women who would come and fight each other over him (laughter) like some woman would show up and want to reclaim the wardrobe that she bought Tail Dragger, while he was still wearing it! And you know, fights would break out. But we played there on Sunday for years and years. I'd play this matinee at "B.L.U.E.S." with Smokey and then hop into a cab to the West Side to play with Tail Dragger. We'd start at 5:00 p.m. at the matinee--Big Walter played after us so he'd come in and jam and hang out--and then run over to the West Side to play until 2:00 a.m. and get home about 3:00 a.m. Eddie Taylor played with us for a long time on that gig.

CATHI: One of my personal favorites: so under appreciated.

DAVE: He was GREAT. What can you say about him? I played with him for six years. At the time he was the best guitar player in the city. He was playing for $35 a night and he just played some SAVAGE stuff! You know people are always talking about taking the blues in a new direction or doing something new. That guy really developed a new style of playing lead that was totally new. He played with a thumb pick and a first-finger pick. He didn't squeeze the strings or bend notes; it was more like he "stung" the notes. He had this flat pick on his finger and would kind of kick down with that and turn his head to the side, you know (laughs)--he'd play a long note with that and then a flurry of notes. When he'd play chords sometimes he'd strum across them with all five fingers, but I think he basically used his thumb and first finger or first two fingers. He was somewhat taciturn. It took me a while to get to know him, but he was really nice. His speech would come out in little bursts (laughs). I thought some of his playing was the most exciting stuff I ever heard. It could be kind of bombastic; when he'd hit those notes they would just cut through the air like knives.

CATHI: Tail Dragger was a character too I gather.

DAVE: Oh yeah! Well, Tail Dragger is not a violent guy, just irrepressible. He loves people; has a great sense of humor and is really a warm person, but there's always intrigue. Like after the gig we'd go to one of his several "wives'" houses and carry all the equipment in and profusely thank him for agreeing to drive us home. The whole idea was that Tail Dragger was going to go to his second "wife's" house and give us the car to take home! We'd drive past somebody's apartment and some girl would drop her phone number out the window (laughs), but Tail Dragger's a good guy--very disorganized though.

CATHI: You've been playing with Billy (Flynn) for a long time now. How did you meet him?

DAVE: Oh God, I think the first time I met him Jerry Portnoy brought him over to my house to play backup. They were both in the "Legendary Blues Band." I really got to know him when we went on tour with them in Canada. He's a great player, a musician's musician.

CATHI: Got any equipment faves?

DAVE: Well, I play Hohner Marine Bands and kinda like Bb (laughs), and I use a Super Reverb I've had for years. I try to break harps in delicately and not blow very hard, but other than that, I'm not much of a technician.

CATHI: Any ideas about tone?

DAVE: Well, it's good to have (laughter). Actually, I'm more interested in phrasing. Tone I look at as sort of a given, but phrasing is the key. That's what a lot of the older Chicago players have. Willie Anderson, for instance. A lot of times he could barely get a clear note out of the harmonica, but the phrasing was AMAZING. I was really fortunate to hear him, because he spent a lot of time listening to, and sitting in, with Little Walter. In a certain sense he captured Walter's deep structure--boiled it down to simple, underlying patterns that captured the rhythmic basis that maybe Little Walter, in his more high-flying improvisations, was taking off from. This was a guy who obviously had a pretty strong musical sensibility and he sort of reduced it to some simple patterns than an ordinary mortal could learn to play! Willie Anderson and Louis Myers were real inspirations to me. I realized that little Walter really had something very different from what Muddy Waters and Jimmy Rogers were doing. It was really very much built up around the interaction between the drumming and the harmonica. This was also borne out by something Fred Below told my friend Illinois Slim: "You're really a harp player when you can work a whole gig with just drums."

CATHI: Interesting to have Willie Anderson and Louis Myers as harp inspirations.

DAVE: Willie was a guy that people talked about as Little Walter's buddy. He hung around with him. You know when Little Walter was shot in the leg? After that he walked with a limp. I think one of the Myers brothers told me that when Little Walter got shot in the leg, Willie Anderson shot himself in the leg too, but he shot the wrong leg (laughter). He was really great. Willie's phrasing and patterns were really incisive. And Louis Myers' sound was more like Little Walter's sound from his earlier period--when he was making "Mean Ol' World" and stuff like that with the "Aces." Dave was absolutely one of the greatest guys for backing up the harmonica and the guitar--ever. I played with him for four or five years. When I first got to Chicago there were all these guys who had been in their teens or twenties in the '50s and very influenced by Little Walter, but I don't look at it as a Little Walter style--more of a general Chicago blues style. My biggest interest is phrasing and how to fit in with a Chicago blues beat; how to make the music flow. It's sort of a lilt, an aggressive swagger. I'm not interested in taking blues to a new place. I think it's a wonderful style and I don't want to play things note for note, but improvise within the feeling of the style.

CATHI: What would you suggest to harmonica players who would like to learn how to play blues?

DAVE: Um...learn how to play softly so you'll have more control of the harp, and see if you can play solos where all your phrases are in one pattern. That's the big thing about all these great Chicago blues harp players. They impose a structure on the music; they are "in" it rather than playing "above" it. They set a rhythmic pattern and play within it. That's the really great thing about them, every single one of them; they phrase in great patterns. They should also learn about the more obscure harp players: Willie Anderson, Big Wheeler, Louis Myers, Lester Davenport, Billy Boy Arnold, Jimmie Lee Robinson, just about everybody that came up in the '50s.

CATHI: Who influences you in your piano work?

DAVE: I like Spann, but I also like Walter Davis. A lot of people don't realize how influential he was. He was from St. Louis and had this very spooky, introspective style. One day I was noodling on the piano after the gig with Jimmy Rogers at the club "B.L.U.E.S." Jimmy came out of the back of the club and said about the tune, "Walter Davi...man that was my foundation when I was starting out." Sunnyland Slim, too, was a truly wonderful person...a rock of strength.

CATHI: You're quite a student of the blues and its players -- seems like playing and learning interest you equally. You even traveled south to meet some of the old time country blues players didn't you?

DAVE: Yes. I went down to Mississippi to visit some different acoustic blues guys. I really wanted to meet Eugene Powell, one of the greatest acoustic players in blues, and Jack Owens, a guy who grew up with Skip James. Also met Mose Vinson--incredible! I always try to find obscure players, especially working for the University of Chicago's Folk Festival every year. For example, we got George and Ethel McCoy, relatives of Memphis Minnie from Mississippi, Dr. Hepcat from Texas, and the Grey Ghost. Jesse Thomas too! That guy was one of the greatest blues talents ever! He first recorded in 1929 and again in the late '40s--an amazing, creative voice. His tunes are on a lot of anthologies. We try to get all traditional music for the Festival, no singer/songwriters.

CATHI: Well Dave, you aren't too motivated about broadcasting your charms to the masses! What can I say to all these folks who don't know who you are?

DAVE: Well, I used to see all these guys--older blues guys that would come into the clubs and sit in. A lot of times they'd be wearing their work clothes--you know those kinda suits that mechanics wear? They'd come in off the streets and play two or three numbers of very traditional Chicago blues, absolutely solid and completely within the genre. That kind of thing would be very difficult for somebody who hadn't been raised in a certain time and place. I guess I would just basically like to be one of those guys.

(Special thanks to Charlotte Jackson and Agnes Tatarka at the University of Chicago for their help in scanning documents and working to provide materials for this article--cn.)

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