Snobbin: Beautiful Trash in the Pop Culture Gutter

One of my favorite Robert Johnson tracks despite its divergence from the blues idiom with an unfamiliar, more commercial vocal and guitar style. Vamping an interesting danceable tune, Johnson hawks for a street vendor and humorously sells his craft and her wares with enough double entendres for everyone. He recorded it in 1936 at Gunther Hall in San Antonio, and the music is catchier than many of his songs, providing valuable insight into the different types of songs he would sing in performance. Instead of the usual topics of souls and hard. troubled luck, Johnson invites us to have fun and buy some of his girl's tamales or just loosen up: "I got a girl, says she long and tall / she sleeps in the kitchen with her feets in the hall / Hot tamales, and they're red hot / yes she got 'em for sale" to an infectious rhythm. I wish Johnson had recorded more songs like this.  Track This  is a recurring feature of Snobbin' that turns the music appreciation dial up and ...

67. Slaughter Hotel (1971), Fernando Di Leo 68. Branded to Kill (1967), Seijun Suzuki, Nikkatsu 69. Lady Snowblood (1973), Toshiya Fujita, Toho 70. Onibaba (1964), Kaneto Shindo, Toho 71. Seven Blood-stained Orchids (1972), Umberto Lenzi 72. Mr. Majestyk (1974), Richard Fleischer, United Artists 73. Can't You Hear the Wind Howl?: The Life and Music of Robert Johnson (1997), Peter Mayer 74. In Search of Blind Joe Death: The Saga of John Fahey (2013), James Cullingham 75. The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years (1988), Penelope Spheeris, New Line 76. Breathless (1960), Jean-Luc Goddard 77. Drunken Angel (1948), Akira Kurosawa, Toho

He finally found a place downtown near the club he was playing. A underused city parking lot that required no fee. He parked the beast and made note of where. He needed to make his getaway as effectively as possible. He was sick of playing these gigs. He usually opened for some upcoming metal band, whose fans hated his music. They tacked him on the bill because they loved it. He dealt with hours of inane hipster talk with little recourse – he played the blues, at least an archaic crossroads form of it. They loved it, but there crowd always wanted Metallica. He had no problem with the music. He just wanted to some day open for musicians more his stripe. Hell, he figured he deserved it. He had done penance long enough. He pulled his short, but solid frame from the car. His weather worn skin and brutalized stetson spoke of his days as an old dog. Long in tooth, but still strong in talent. His bones ached a little more each day, but he had his pride. He played blues originals and nothi...

My soundtrack for the slow summer days is often old blues or soul records. Not that I feel particularly bummed out or blue at the moment, but artists like Son House and Robert Johnson wrote timeless songs that always seem appropriate. Listening to the blues makes me think of past summer days spent walking in the woods or traipsing down to the river to go fishing. While listening to soul reminds me of summer picnics with oldies radio cranked up to ten. Each seem perfect, whether blasting out of a boombox, a phonograph, or an mp3 player. Right now I am savoring Son House's Complete Library of Congress Sessions , but I could as easily be sampling John Lee Hooker's Boom Boom . There are so many blues records that seem appropriate for a hot summer day. Soul records are also great, easy summer listening. Sam Cooke and Otis Redding are not far from my turntable in summer months. Which is why I return again and again to classics like Sam Cooke's Live at the Harlem Club, 1963 -- ...