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The original idea for this story<br />
involved walking Pinetop<br />
Perkins from his hotel in<br />
Chicago’s South Loop to the nearby<br />
Buddy Guy’s Legends blues club,<br />
where he would sit at the piano and<br />
explain a few patented moves. That<br />
didn’t happen. Not that Perkins is lazy,<br />
or uninterested in revisiting his favorite<br />
blues and boogie-woogie standards. He<br />
regularly works the international blues<br />
festival circuit and at home in Austin,<br />
Texas, Perkins plays, sells his CDs or<br />
sits among dozens of adoring young<br />
fans every night at clubs like Antone’s.<br />
It’s just that at 95 years old, Perkins does<br />
whatever he wants. For about an hour this past<br />
June, that meant sitting near his hotel pool where<br />
he drank big cups of sweetened coffee, smoked<br />
menthol cigarettes and kept his eyes open in<br />
case a woman in a bathing suit should happen to<br />
walk by. As one dove into the pool, he turned<br />
and muttered, “I look at ’em, talk to ’em and<br />
that’s about it.”<br />
Aside from that supposed physical limitation,<br />
Perkins would make for quite a date. He’s been<br />
playing piano (and, early on, guitar) behind<br />
some of the biggest names in blues history.<br />
Indirectly, Perkins inspired rock ’n’ roll. At an<br />
age when most people consider retirement, he<br />
started his solo recording career about 20 years<br />
ago. This doesn’t include the multitude of<br />
picaresque adventures, alongside ups, downs<br />
and a few near fatal incidents that took him from<br />
the early 20th century South to Chicago and<br />
back down South again as a new century began.<br />
Still, Perkins didn’t say all that much about<br />
any of this as he sat by the pool. Not that he<br />
can’t talk. “He clams up around the press, but<br />
riding in the van you can’t get Pine to shut up,”<br />
said his longtime bassist Bob Stroger.<br />
Maybe for the laconic blues hero an interview<br />
is like a performance: Sparse words are<br />
supposed to convey as much as minimal tones.<br />
“Pinetop plays few notes, but it’s all about<br />
where he puts them,” said pianist Barrelhouse<br />
Chuck (a.k.a. Charles Goering), who has been<br />
his friend for more than 30 years. “I heard him<br />
play with lots of different bands, and when he<br />
was younger, the way he got behind and backed<br />
the band was incredible. His rhythm, where he<br />
put all those notes to bring the band to a certain<br />
level.”<br />
Nowadays, Perkins’ groups are usually made<br />
MAN<br />
OF FEW<br />
NOTES<br />
Pinetop Perkins’ Instinctive<br />
Playing Still Defines Blues Piano<br />
By Aaron Cohen<br />
up of longtime friends and rotating guests.<br />
Drummer Willie “Big Eyes” Smith worked with<br />
Perkins throughout much of the 1970s in Muddy<br />
Waters’ band, and Stroger has performed with<br />
the pianist since he went on his own in the early<br />
’80s. They form the backbone of much of this<br />
year’s Pinetop Perkins And Friends (Telarc),<br />
which includes guest appearances from B.B.<br />
King and Eric Clapton, as well as younger musicians<br />
like singer Nora Jean Brusco.<br />
“He knows what to do instinctively,” Smith<br />
said. “Pinetop’s been doing that his whole life<br />
and will be doing that on his dying bed. He’s<br />
slower than he was, but the instinct is still there.<br />
He knows what he’s supposed to do.”<br />
Peter Carlson’s 2007 documentary, Born In<br />
The Honey: The Pinetop Perkins Story, delves<br />
into the roots of these instincts: his birth (as Joe<br />
Willie Perkins) on the Honey Island Plantation<br />
of Belzoni, Miss., to pulling cotton and playing<br />
music in the state’s juke joints and the Sanctified<br />
church. To this day, Perkins grapples with the<br />
decision he made to follow a secular path.<br />
“I pray to the Lord, ‘Please forgive me for<br />
the stuff I’m doing,’” Perkins said as he turned<br />
away from the pool. “I’m trying to make a dollar<br />
and I hope He listens to me. The Lord don’t like<br />
that bluesy stuff, but I ask him to forgive me for<br />
it. I’m trying to make people happy to make a<br />
Photo by Jack Vartoogian<br />
dollar, because it’s all I know how to do. I didn’t<br />
do any schooling to get a good job.”<br />
The seminal blues musicians who Perkins<br />
encountered throughout Mississippi offered<br />
Perkins a different kind of education. He’d work<br />
with two of them—Robert Nighthawk and Earl<br />
Hooker—for years afterwards. The boogie-woogie<br />
pianist Pinetop Smith permanently lent his<br />
style, as well as his nickname, to the younger<br />
musician. Perkins also absorbed enough to teach<br />
piano to a young Ike Turner. After Nighthawk<br />
left the state for Helena, Ark., to perform on the<br />
“King Biscuit Time” radio program in 1943, he<br />
invited Perkins to join him.<br />
Perkins built his early reputation playing in<br />
town on the radio behind Sonny Boy<br />
Williamson. At some point in the early ’40s, his<br />
career—and possibly, his life—almost ended<br />
when a drunken woman slashed the tendons in<br />
his left arm (she mistakenly thought he locked<br />
her in a bathroom). Although that happened<br />
more than 60 years ago, Perkins continues to<br />
mention the incident in regretful tones as if it<br />
happened last month.<br />
“I can’t play boogie-woogie like I used to<br />
since that woman stabbed me in the arm,”<br />
Perkins said. “I can’t play with my left hand like<br />
I used to. I can’t play bass like I used to. I play<br />
behind the bass now. I used to play a lot of gui-<br />
September 2008 DOWNBEAT 53