Readers should be aware that a number of the recordings contain obscene language, which some may find offensive. To retain historical accuracy, no attempt has been made to censor them.

1681 A a 1681 A b Indian Songs at the Mardi Gras — v June 8, 1938 c The Indians in the Masquerade of N.O. Mardi Gras (with the Indian song) J.R.M. June 8, 1938 d UNGAI HA (Indian Songs at the Mardi Gras) e Circle jm-80 f — g Rounder CD 1888 as: Ungai Hai      Ungai hai.      Ungai hai.      Ungai hai. That’s the sign of the Indians. That would be some of the boys, when they would be travelling in the city of New Orleans, that is, during the Mardi Gras. They’d prepare for the Indian tribes . . . I never known any more than four or five tribes in the whole city, of all the thousands of people that there were there. Er, these, er, people they had the idea that they wanted to act exactly like the old Indians did in the years gone by, and they wanted to live true, to, to traditions of their style. If they happened to meet a friend of a tribe, or a friendly tribe to them, they would pitch in and start to dancing. Er, this was one of the biggest feats that ever happened during the Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Even when a, when the, the parades that cost millions of dollars would be coming along. If a band of Indians was coming — come in — why the, the parade wouldn’t have anybody there. Everybody would flock to see the Indians. They would dance, and they would sing, and they would go on just like the regular Indians. They would be armed with fictitious, er, spears and tomahawks and so forth. And incidentally, sometimes, some of ‘em would break the rules and have some real material to fight with, with steel, and so forth and on. Some even had pistols. And I have known many cases where there have been killings in the city of New Orleans with the Indian bands. Now here’s the way they would sing, er, when they would be dancing. They’d form a ring and one would get in the centre and he’d start his kind of a Indian dance. And he’d be singin’, throwing his head back and downward, and stoopin’ kinda over and bending his knees, and doing a kind of a, a jug dance, I’d call it. And they would say, er:      T’ouwais bas q’ouwais. And the whole bunch would answer back:      Hou tendais,      T’ouwais bas q’ouwais,      Hou tendais,      T’ouwais bas q’ouwais,      Hou tendais. See, they would, er, they’d have a kind of a rhythm, er, with the, with their heels. Like this:      [demonstrates rhythm with heels]      T’ouwais bas q’ouwais,      Hou tendais,      T’ouwais bas q’ouwais,      Hou tendais,      T’ouwais bas q’ouwais,      Hou tendais.      A la caille-yoko,      A la ca woh,      Oh, T’ouwais bas q’ouwais,      Hou tendais,      T’ouwais bas q’ouwais,      Hou tendais. When they would say other things, they would, er, they would stop for a minute and throw their head back, and say:      A la caille-yo,      A la ca wais,      Houwais bas q’ouwais,      T’ouwais bas q’ouwais,      Hou tendais,      T’ouwais bas q’ouwais,      Ou tendais. Now there would be, from time to time — if they didn’t meet a friendly tribe towards them — er, which, er, I thought, when I was a child, it was really Indians. I thought they had the paints and everything else on ‘em just like the Indians would, and some with the blankets, and so forth and so on. Women never was in these masquerades at all. They’d meet, er, some . . . a real enemy. The enemy would walk up to — that is, er, what you call the spy-boys. They would use them about two blocks ahead. I had a little, er, experience in it myself. I happened to be a spy-boy. They was always kids that did the spyin’. These were real men that did this Indian dance and, and played the Indians. And their main object was to make the enemy bow, and they would use this word. When the spy-boys would meet another spy-boy, they said, “Bow-wow. Bow-wow. Ah, bow-wow.” I don’t remember all the words they used to use. And they’d point their fingers to the ground, “Bow-wow.” And if they wouldn’t bow, then they, they’d use the Indian call. [whoops] And when they’d use that Indian call, why, that was to call in the tribes. And there’s many time, in these Indian, er, these Indian things came up there’d be a killin’. The next day there’d be somebody in the morgue. 1681 B a 1681 B b New Orleans Blues — p c — d NEW ORLEANS BLUES e Circle jm-27 (excerpt) f Rounder CD 1094 as: NEW ORLEANS BLUES (excerpt) g Rounder CD 1888 as: New Orleans Blues New Orleans Blues Er, this was one of the earliest tunes . . . [recording paused] [inaudible comments] Er, that’s the type of tune, er, was no doubt one of the earliest blues that was created as a composition — a playable composition — in the city of New Orleans. This tune was wrote about nineteen-two. All the black bands in the city of New Orleans played these tunes — that’s this tune, I mean. Er, of course, you may notice the Spanish tinge in it. Er, this has so much to do with the typical jazz idea. If one can’t, er, manage a way to put these tinges of Spanish in these tunes, they’ll never be able to get the right season, I may call it, for jazz music. 1682 A a 1682 A b Dialogue on jazz and blues — sp/p La Paloma Into Blues — p c The Spanish influence on New Orleans blues La Paloma d LA PALOMA e Circle jm-28 (excerpt) f — g Rounder CD 1888 as: The Spanish Tinge Of course you got to have these little tinges of Spanish in it, er, in order to play real good jazz. Er, jazz has a foundation that must be very prominent, especially with the bass sections, in order to give a great background. Plus, what’s called riffs today, er, which was known as figures. But figures has, hasn’t always been in the dance bands. I’ll give you an idea what, er, the, the idea of Spanish there is in the blues. New Orleans Blues [short demonstration] Er, this particular tune . . . I wouldn’t be honest if I said that maybe the whole tune belonged to me, although my name is on it. It’s supposed to be arranged by Mr. Joe Jordan, but these arrangements were made also by myself. Er, there’s a man that used to teach me to play piano. I’ll have to give him credit, er, for some contribution to this tune. His name was Frank Richards. He was older than I was. He was on the ragtime order. But he was a very good player, as far as it went — although he was incapable of instructin’ anybody along music in the very, that is, for a very short ways. That’s all he could go. He couldn’t go very far, because he didn’t know so very much about music himself. But at least in the early days, in my beginning on piano, he was the first one that started my instructions, and I thank him greatly for that. His name is Frank Richards. I mentioned it before, but I wanna be sure that they get his name correctly — Frank Richards. Frank . . . [speech directed towards stenographer] What part of the blues did he . . . contribute? Er, well I, I claim that his, his contribution was more in the perfection way. Er, the melodies were all mine. But I believed that he could do much better than I could with it, because, er, he made a lot of corrections that probably would have gone, maybe haywire. And, of course, I’ve kept the tune ever since. It’s one of my first tunes. [recording paused] La Paloma [begun] As, as I before said, maybe you may be able to, er, notice the Spanish tinge. But you must have a powerful background. Er, for an instance, those days they used “La Paloma.” Was, er, one of the great Spanish tunes. Y’know, New Orleans was inhabited with maybe every race on the face of the globe. And of course, we had Spanish people — they had plenty of ‘em — and plenty of French people. Of course, I’ll . . . I may demonstrate a little bit of “La Paloma,” er, to show you that the tinge is really in there. Take it easy. La Paloma That would be the common time, which it gives you the same thing in the . . . [demonstrates syncopation] . . . I hope this is, er, quite clear to you, see? Only one is a blues, but differentiating in these things, it comes from the right hand. You play the left hand just the same, but of course, blues you . . . you, you get the syncopation in there. It gives, er, a entirely different colour. It really changes the colour from red to blue. And maybe you can notice this powerful bass hand? Note: See also Peter Hanley’s in-depth “portrait” of Frank Richards on the “Portraits from Jelly Roll’s New Orleans” page. 1682 B a 1682 B b Creepy Feeling — p c — d CREEPY FEELING Part 1 e Circle jm-29 (excerpt) f Rounder CD 1094 as: CREEPY FEELING, begun (excerpt) g Rounder CD 1888 as: Improving Spanish Tempos I, I personally didn’t believe that, er, the Spanish tunes were really perfected in their tempos. The fact that the tempos wasn’t always correct. And, er, I heard a lot of Spanish tunes, and I tried to play ‘em in correct tempo myself. And, er, I didn’t possibly play ‘em in very correct in tempos. But I wasn’t altogether satisfied with some of the melodies. I decided, er, to write some of them myself. I will now try to play one for your approval. Er, this number is “Creepy Feeling.” Creepy Feeling [fragment] [recording restarted] Creepy Feeling [begun] 1683 A a 1683 A b Creepy Feeling — p c Creepy Feeling (cont’d) J.R.M. d CREEPY FEELING Concl. e Circle jm-30 f Rounder CD 1094 as: CREEPY FEELING, concluded g Rounder CD 1888 as: Creepy Feeling, concluded Creepy Feeling [concluded] 1683 B a 1683 B b The Crave — p c — d THE CRAVE e Circle jm-31 f Rounder CD 1094 as: THE CRAVE g Rounder CD 1888 as: The Crave The Crave 1684 A a 1684 A b Mama ‘Nita — p c Mama ‘Nita (E flat) JRM composed 1917 in Los Angeles “E flat has brilliancy to it” d MAMA ‘NITA e Circle jm-25 f Rounder CD 1094 as: MAMANITA g Rounder CD 1888 as: Mamanita Mama ‘Nita 1684 B a 1684 B b Can-Can — v/p If You Don’t Shake, Don’t Get No Cake — v/p c — d I. CREOLE SONG II. IF YOU DON’T SHAKE e Circle jm-81 (excerpt) f Rounder CD 1094 as: CAN-CAN Rounder CD 1094 as: IF YOU DON’T SHAKE g Rounder CD 1888 as: C’était N’aut’ Can-Can, Payez Donc C’était N’aut’ Can-Can, Payez Donc      C’était n’aut’ can-can, payez donc,      ‘N’aut’ can-can, payez donc,      C’était n’aut’ can-can, payez donc.      C’était n’aut’ can-can, payez donc,      C’était n’aut’ can-can, payez donc,      C’était n’aut’ can-can, payez donc. Give it us again.      C’était n’aut’ can-can, payez donc,      ‘N’aut’ can-can, payez donc,      C’était n’aut’ can-can, payez donc.      C’était n’aut’ can-can, payez donc,      C’était n’aut’ can-can, payez donc,      C’était n’aut’ can-can, payez donc. This was one of the . . . what was one of the earliest tunes, er, in New Orleans. It’s from French origin. And I’m telling you, when they start to playin’ this thing in the dance hall they would really whoop it up. When was that? Er, well, this was around about nineteen-five, nineteen-six. All the bands — the little bands that was around — played it; the different musicians that could, as far as they could go. But it happened to be a favourite so far as the tune goes. But there seemed to be some vulgar meaning to it that I have never understood. I know what the . . . all the rest mean, but the can-can — I can’t understand the can-can business. [laughs]  But I’ll tell you, everybody got hot and they threw their hats away when they get start to playin’ this thing. C’était N’aut’ Can-Can, Payez Donc If You Don’t Shake, You Don’t Get No Cake      If you don’t shake, you don’t get no cake,      If you don’t rock, you don’t get no cock.      I said, if you don’t shake, you don’t get no cake,      If you don’t rock, you don’t get no cock.      If you don’t fuck, you don’t have no luck,  [both laugh]      If you don’t fuck, you don’t have no luck.  [both laugh]      If you don’t fuck, you don’t have no luck,      If you don’t fuck, you don’t have no luck. Note: Like pidgin English, Creole French is different from place to place (Louisiana, Haiti, Martinique, etc.). Transcribed into classical French, it would be C’était notre cancan, payez donc or C’était un autre cancan, payez donc. Jelly Roll admits his problem with can-can. Some translations have been suggested: chanson (a song, as proposed by Albert Nicholas, the New Orleanian clarinet player and a friend of Jelly Roll), or the cancan, invented in 1861 by one Charles Morton of London. A variation on the quadrille, this dance was the craze of 1898 and inspired painters Toulouse-Lautrec and Picasso. Another suggestion is concombre (cucumber).      It was our song or cancan, or cucumber, pay for it, then.      Yet another song or cancan, or cucumber, pay for it, then. [RR 2] Note: The profanities in If You Don’t Shake, Don’t Get No Cake on Circle jm-81 have been edited out. 1685 A a 1685 A b Spanish Swat — p c Spanish Swat JRM, composed in NY, 1927, unp. (tune “Dark Eyes”) d SPANISH SWAT e Circle jm-26 (excerpt) f Rounder CD 1094 as: SPANISH SWAT g Rounder CD 1888 as: Spanish Swat Spanish Swat 1685 B a 1685 B b Misbehavin’ [sic] — v/p c — d AIN’T MISBEHAVIN’ e Circle jm-44 f Rounder CD 1094 as: AIN’T MISBEHAVIN’ g Rounder CD 1888 as: Ain’t Misbehavin’ Ain’t Misbehavin’      Ah, boot it,      Just boot it,      Boot it boot,      Boot it boot it boo-hoot,      Baddle-addle-addle la ba,      Misbehavin’, ba-ba-da-da-da,      Misbehavin’,      Yes, baby, I’ve got my lovin’ love for you,      Ba-da-la-be-buh-be. 1686 A a 1686 A b I Hate A Man Like You — v/p June 12, 1938 c I Hate A Man Like You JRM, the composer June 12, 1937 [sic] d I HATE A MAN LIKE YOU (“I played some rollin’ stuff.”) e Circle jm-86 f Rounder CD 1094 as: I HATE A MAN LIKE YOU (excerpt) g Rounder CD 1888 as: I Hate a Man Like You / Rolling Stuff I Hate a Man Like You      I hate a man like you,      Don’t like the things you do,      When you married me, I knew you wasn’t right,      When you stayed out from me the first night,      Do you think that’s treating your little wifey right?      Lord, I hate a man like you.      I hate a man like you,      Can’t get used to the way . . . and things that you tryin’ to do,      I knew you wasn’t the one for me,      When you took your fist and knocked me down to my knee,      If I could get a divorce I know I would be free,      From a doggone man like you.      Yes, I hate a man like you,      Can’t used to . . . gettin’ used to the things that you do, no.      When you took your man friend at my home,      He told me all about the places that you did roam,      I looked in your pocket and found a sweet woman’s comb,      Yes, I hate a man like you.      [hums complete verse]      Mmmm, hmmm . . .      I hate a man like you,      Don’t like the things you do,      My people told me that I was goin’ wrong,      And I had a yen for you, I thought I’d like you strong,      But you so dumb, you don’t know right from wrong,      Lord, I hate a man, man like you. And I had the blues, and then on she, she just moaned. It was a shame the way that man treated that woman. And this happens to be a even true song. The music was wrote on account of this happenin’. Of course, I played some blues to kind of pacify the young lady. She was a beautiful thing, too. I played some rollin’ stuff like this: Rolling Stuff 1686 B a 1686 B b Michigan Water Blues — v/p c — d MICHIGAN WATER BLUES e Circle jm-58 (excerpt) f Rounder CD 1094 as: MICHIGAN WATER BLUES g Rounder CD 1888 as: Michigan Water Blues Michigan Water Blues [inaudible comments] . . . play a blues by one of the most great . . . Play a blues by . . . it was by a great pianist, maybe one of the best the world has ever seen. He, he enjoyed wearin’ the title of the “World’s Greatest Single-Handed Entertainer.” Playing all classes of music in the style they was supposed to be played, from blues to opera. And, er, he sang one of these numbers, a blues that he wrote himself — “Michigan Water.” I’ll show you the different types that he played in.      Yes, Michigan water tastes like sherry,      I mean sherry, crazy ‘bout my sherry,      Michigan water tastes like sherry wine,      Yes, Michigan water tastes like sherry wine.      Mama, mama, look at sis,      She’s out on the levee doin’ the double twist,      Mama, mama, won’t you look at sis,      She’s out on the levee doin’ the double twist.      She said, “Come in here, you dirty little sow,      You tryin’ to be a bad girl, you don’t know how,      Come in here, you’re a dirty little sow,      You tryin’ to be a bad girl that you don’t know how.”      [inaudible comments]      She said, “Touch my bonnet, touch my shawl,      Do not touch my waterfall,      Touch my bonnet, baby, touch my shawl,      Please, don’t you touch my waterfall.” Then they’d do the single . . . the single-runnin’ bass. Single Running Bass Then they’d do what we call a double-runnin’ bass. Double Running Bass 1687 A (see footnote below) a 1687 A b The Winding Boy — v/p June 12, 1938 c The Winding Boy JRM (concl’d on B) June 12, 1938 d THE WININ’ BOY II e Circle jm-90 (see note below) f Rounder CD 1094 as: WININ’ BOY BLUES no. 2, begun g Rounder CD 1888 as: Winin’ Boy Blues Winin’ Boy Blues [begun] This happened to be one of my first tunes in the blues line, down in New Orleans, in the very early days, when people first start to playin’ piano in that section. Of course, when a man played piano, the stamp was on him for life — the femininity stamp. And I didn’t want that on, so, of course, when I did start to playin’, the songs were kinda smutty a bit. Not so smutty, but somethin’ like this:      I’m the Windin’ Boy, don’t deny my name,      Oh, the Windin’ Boy, don’t deny my name,      I’m the Windin’ Boy, don’t deny my name,      I can pick it up and shake it like Stavin’ Chain,      I’m the Windin’ Boy, don’t deny my name.      I had that girl, I had her in the grass,      I had that bitch, had her in the grass,      Yes, baby, I had that bitch, had her in the grass,      One day she got scared and a snake ran up her big ass,      Yes, I’m the Windin’ Boy, don’t deny my name.      I had that bitch, had her on the stump,      I had that bitch, had her on the stump,      I had that bitch and had her on the stump,      I fucked her till her pussy stunk,      I’m the Windin’ Boy, don’t deny my name.      Nickel’s worth of beefsteak and a dime’s worth of lard, Lord, Lord, Lord,      Nickel’s worth of beefsteak and a dime’s worth of lard,      Yes, baby, nickel’s worth of beefsteak, dime’s worth of lard,      I’m gonna salivate your pussy till my peter get hard,      I’m the Windin’ Boy, don’t deny my name. Note: Circle jm-90 comprises a partial combination of AFS 1687-A and 1687-B. It contains Jelly Roll’s speech and the first verse only (from AFS 1687-A above) and the second verse, the hummed and vocalised third verse, the piano interlude and fourth verse only (from AFS 1687-B below). 1687 B (see footnote below) a 1687 B b The Winding Boy c The Winding Boy JRM (concl’d) d THE WININ’ BOY II e Circle jm-90 (see note below) f Rounder CD 1094 as: WININ’ BOY BLUES no. 3, [sic] (2) concluded g Rounder CD 1888 as: Winin’ Boy Blues, continued Winin’ Boy Blues [concluded]      Every time the changin’ of the moon,      Every time the changin’ of the moon,      Yes, baby, every time the changin’ of the moon,      The co . . . blood come rushin’ from the bitch’s womb,      I’m the Windin’ Boy, don’t deny my fuckin’ name.      I want about ten bitches to myself,      I want about ten sweet bitches to myself,      I want about ten sweet bitches to myself,      The one I like, I’m gonna keep her to myself,      Windin’ Boy, don’t deny my fuckin’ name.      Mmmm, hmmm,      Oh, de da dee,      Da da da da, da de da,      Oh, da de dee,      Mmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm,      Oh, la de da,      La la, la de de de,      Mmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm. Piano interlude      I’m a poor boy, I’m long ways from home,      I’m a poor boy, long, long ways from home,      Long ways, I’m a poor boy, from home,      I’m gonna try to never roam alone,      I’m the Windin’ Boy, don’t deny my fuckin’ name. Note: Circle jm-90 comprises a partial combination of AFS 1687-A and 1687-B. It contains Jelly Roll’s speech and the first verse only (from AFS 1687-A) and the second verse, the hummed and vocalised third verse, the piano interlude and fourth verse only (from AFS 1687-B). Note: On Circle jm-90 (AFS 1687-B) the underlined profanities in the last lines of the second and fourth verses are edited out. 1688 B (see footnote below) a 1688 B b Boogie Woogie Blues — p Albert Carroll Blues — p Dialogue — sp c — d ALBERT CARROLL and BUDDY BERTRAND THE CRAZY CHORD RAG e Circle jm-50 f Rounder CD 1094 as: BOOGIE WOOGIE BLUES Rounder CD 1094 as: ALBERT CARROLL’S TUNE Rounder CD 1094 as: BUDDY BERTRAND’S BLUES no. 2 g Rounder CD 1888 as: Boogie Woogie Blues Boogie Woogie Blues Oh, pick it. Do that thing, little old boy. Yes, indeed. Oh, my, that Texas feelin’. Here’s the way Albert Carroll would play for the girls. He played that stuff, I’m tellin’ you. It sure sound good. Albert Carroll’s Tune Oh, play it, Mr. Carroll. He’s not good lookin’, but he sure was sweet. Old Buddy used to play some blues of his own. Er, what is Buddy’s last name? I don’t remember his last name right now — Buddy Bertrand, that’s his name. Buddy Bertrand’s Blues [begun] Note:  Despite the Library of Congress AFS accession catalogue number being listed (as shown above), there is strong aural evidence to suggest that Alan Lomax erroneously catalogued and labelled AFS 1688-A and AFS 1688-B in reverse. To ensure that both versions of Buddy Bertrand’s Blues, together with Jelly Roll’s narrative on Buddy Bertrand, play in the correct order, AFS 1688-B should be presented and performed before AFS 1688-A. Note:  See also Peter Hanley’s in-depth “portrait” of Albert Carroll on the “Portraits from Jelly Roll’s New Orleans” page. 1688 A (see footnote below) a 1688 A b Mamie Desmond’s [sic] Blues — v/p June 12, 1938 c I Stood on the Corner, My Feet Was Dripping Wet June 12, 1938 learned from Mamie Desmond [sic] an early type of blues d MAMIE DESDOUMES and MAMIE’S BLUES e Circle jm-49 (excerpt) f Rounder CD 1094 as: BUDDY BERTRAND’S BLUES no. 1 Rounder CD 1094 as: MAMIE’S BLUES (combined) g Rounder CD 1888 as: Buddy Bertrand’s Blues, continued / Mamies Blues Buddy Bertrand’s Blues [concluded] The girls was crazy about this little blues that Buddy Bertrand played in the Tenderloin District of New Orleans. Here’s was among the first blues that I’ve ever heard, happened to be a woman, that lived next door to my godmother’s, in the Garden District. Her name was Mamie Desdoume. On her right hand she had her two middle fingers, between her forefingers, cut off, and she played with the three. So she played a, a blues like this, all day long, when she first would get up in the morning. Mamie’s Blues She used to sing it for us like this:      I stood on the corner, my feet was dripping wet,      Stood on the corner, my feet was dripping wet,      I asked every man I met.      Can’t give me a dollar, give me a lousy dime,      If you can’t give me a dollar, give me a lousy dime,      Just to feed that hungry man of mine.      I got a husband, and I got a kid man too,      I got a husband, I got a kid man too,      My husband can’t do what my kid man can do.      I like the way he cooks my cabbage for me,      I like the way he cooks my cabbage for me,      Looks like he sets my natural soul free. Piano flourish This is the way to uplift them a little — the real blues, when they was made into tunes. Note:  Despite the Library of Congress AFS accession catalogue number being listed (as shown above), there is strong aural evidence to suggest that Alan Lomax erroneously catalogued and labelled AFS 1688-A and AFS 1688-B in reverse. To ensure that both versions of Buddy Bertrand’s Blues, together with Jelly Roll’s narrative on Buddy Bertrand, play in the correct order, AFS 1688-A should be presented and performed after AFS 1688-B. Note: Jelly Roll mispronounces the name of Mamie Desdunes. On the recording above he refers to her as Mamie Desdoume. Note: See also Peter Hanley’s in-depth “portrait” of Mamie Desdunes on the “Portraits from Jelly Roll’s New Orleans” page. 2487 A a 2487 A b New Orleans Street Bands — v/p December 14, 1938 c — d THE MARCHING BANDS, Concluded e Circle jm-82 (excerpt) f — g Rounder CD 1888 as: When the Hot Stuff Came In When did the hot stuff come in, Jelly? Well, the hot stuff came in nineteen-two. And this . . . Yeah, but, er, into the bands? Well, they came in around nineteen-three. They, they came in immediately after the . . . after nineteen-two, this, er, the hot idea was arranged. Of course, they had another hot style before. It was, er, it would say, what you call ragtime. The kind that, er, you start to playin’ at a certain tempo, then you increase and you increase and you increase. You don’t do it deliberately, but you, you increase, due to the fact that there wasn’t a perfect tempo set for that, er, that kind of a music. And . . . Yeah, but the tunes that you’d play in those bands, how would they go . . . [inaudible comments] Well, for an instance they . . . er, they’d go like this. Er, “National Anthem,” see. For an instance, say:      [vocalizes]      Yum, dum. . . . Who’d start it? Well, er, here’s the way they’d start. Er, the drums begun:      [vocalizes]      Hrump, hrump, hrump, rump, rump. Then the trumpet’d pick it up, you know, they’d be goin’ right along:      [vocalizes]      Hrump, rump. Trumpet say:      [vocalizes]      Boo do. And when they’d say that the drums’d say:      [vocalizes]      Hrump, rump, hrump, rump, rrrrrr — boom. And then they’d start, see?      [vocalizes]      Yum, dum, duh, dum.  Dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, dum. For an instance we’ll say, er, “Stars and Stripes Forever.” They’d play it on this style:      [vocalizes]      Dum-duh dad-da-duh dad-da-duh,      Da-da-da da-da-da dad da-da dum,      Dum da duh duh da duh duh,      Dum dum dum dah dun da da da,      Dum-dan da-da dah. They’d pick up the next strain, and play it like this:      [vocalizes and taps feet]      Da-dad da daddle daddle da da-da da, bul da da da,      Ba-doo doo da do-do do do-duh,      Dad-da-dad dah, da-da dah,      Dum da duddle duduh du-duh duh duh,      Duh-duh-duh, duh-duh-duh,      Buh du diddle uh duh duh duh diddle duh duh,      Duh duh duh, duh,      Do do do do doodle do dee doot dee diddle-dee, duh loodle do dee,      Duh-duh dum-dum duh duh duh duh-duh duh, dum,      Cum cuh-dum-da da-dum-bah,      Dan-dah duh da la-da,      Dum da-da-da-dum keet gum geet deedle-ee deedle-eedle dee dee deed dee-dee. You see, they’d be going out then, see? Sometimes they’d start going out a half a strain. I’m telling you, it’d be a terrible hot. And everybody . . . the kids’d be jumpin’ up. And the boys’d — er, like the drummer — he’d be throwing his sticks up in the air and catching ‘em, throwing ‘em on the ground, and bouncing ‘em up there, as they’d walk, and catching ‘em. And he’d better not miss, because the whole bunch’d razz him. The bass drum player, he’d have his, his bass drum beater, just twirling it around the air. And the, the boys, usually, that played trombone — I used to do it myself — if they had a slur to make, they used to make these slurs:      [imitates trombone]      Ahrum, dum, dum, dum, dahrum. See, and, er, you wouldn’t keep up with the music. You’d stop while the slur would be goin’ on and catch up later. You’d shove one foot out there and stop while the slur says:      [imitates trombone slur]      Ahumm. And then walk. See? Oh, it was tremendous. And everybody would raise a lot of sand, and everybody seemed to like it very much. Well, Jelly, er, how would they do the “National Anthem”? Do it just like you did a while ago. Er, let me see. As long as it takes. How does . . . er, let me see — how the “National Anthem” go? I’ve forgotten how that goes now.      [hums]      Dum, dum, duh, dum, umm, mmm. [Alan Lomax encourages Jelly Roll by humming and vocalizing a few notes] . . . da da That’s it.      [hums and vocalizes and taps feet]      Duh-dum dum duh-dum dum,      Dum duh-dum,      Ah, duh-dum duh-dum,      Dum duh-dum duh. Don’t leave me.      Dum, boom, dum dum dum dum dum dum dum,      Dum, dum duh-dum,      Dum dum dum, dum dum duh-dum,      Awm, duh-dum duh-dum, dum duh-dum dum,      Dum duh-dum.      Dum duddle-uh dum dum,      Dum duh-dud de-duh duh dum,      Duh duh duh duh duh duh du luddle-uh de dum,      Dum duh de duddle duh, — How does it go, sir? — duh duh dum,      Woo do loodle-oot doodle oo de doodle oodle oodle duh de,      Duh dat doodle-oo,      Dum, duh dum duh dum,      Duh dum duh dum dum, dum duh dum,      Ah, dum dum dum dum, dum dum dum dum,      Duh duh dum,      Dwee dluh dwee-doot dwee duh,      Dum do doodle-oo dum dum,      Duh duh duh, duh duh dum,      Duh dweedle dweedle duh dee dweedle dee,      Dee dee de-dweedle dwee dee,      Dwee duddle-eet, dweedle dwee de-ee dwee,      Dool eet dweedle duh de deet dee dul wee deet eet da deedle dweedle-ee do. Then they’d start again with it . . .      Hrump, hrump, hrump, hrump, hrump. Drums . . . [inaudible comments] Here the way the drums’d be goin’:      Hrump, hrump, hrump, hrump, hrump.      Hrump, hrump, hrump, hrump, hrump,      Hrump, hrump . . . Leader’d say, “Look out, back there.”      Hrump, hrump, hrump. “Get set ‘cause were goin’.”      Hrump, [laughs] hrump, hrump, hrump, hrump. Leader’d pick up his horn and says:      Duh duh.      [imitates drum sounds]      Hrump-hrump, hrump-tump, rrrrrr-boom. And then they’d stop. They used to play a number, er . . . that was kinda late, er, like, well, “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” come in — they used to play that. Er, “National Anthem,” would naturally go with it.      [Both Jelly Roll and Alan Lomax hum together . . . then Jelly Roll continues vocalizing]      Drum, drum dum dum dum dum,      Dum dum duh-dum,      Dum duh dee duh, dum duh-duh. It’s a bass solo.      [vocalizes]      Ah duh dum duh dum, yum duh duh dum dum duh duh. Then they’d take it up.      [vocalizes and taps feets]      Duh dwee duh, dwee duh dud dee duddle dee duh,      Do do do dee duh duh duh duh daloodle ood duh dee dee,      Dwee da leedle eet duh-dee-duh-dul dee,      Doodle do do do do-doodle dwee duh,      Duh-duh-duh, duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh, duh duh.      [coughs] Oh boy, I’d think about drinking that beer, I can’t help it.  Look like I’m drunk now. I’ll tell you . . .      [coughs] Whisky’s a swell thing. [inaudible comments] Yeah, they, they’d go . . . go to town that way, see.  There’s no gettin’ around that. And of course, they’d make all these places and . . . Would people be dancing in the street behind the line? In the streets. And they’d have sticks. And boy, the second line — the funny thing about the second line, they in front of the band. See, of course, er, the fact of it is, the band comes along right behind the aides. The aides is supposed to be the fellows on horsebacks. They’d spend plenty of money for those big streamers and sashes, is what they’d buy, to put on ‘em, in order to make them look better than the other fellow. So the grand marshal’s in front, and everybody’s on a horse is considered an aide, and the band is right behind ‘em. So that’s how that worked. And, er, of course, the second line is in front of the grand marshal, but they call them the second line. They’re there to protect the parade and the people that’s in the parade, to fight the other foe off, whoever that foe may be, until they get to their boundary line where they meet a enemy. And where they meet the enemy, they stop right there. They wouldn’t cross the line. If they did it was a tremendous fight, terrible fight. I’ve known one case where a fellow must have been cut at least a hundred times. I seen blood coming from him, just gushing, just the same out of one of the gushers out in Yellowstone National Park. I never seen such a thing. This fellow happened to be a Creole boy. I didn’t know him very well, but I, I, at least, I known of him. And, er, he never did stop fighting. He just kept on trying to run after this fellow that cut him. And I never seen a man in such shape in all my life. Note: Nowhere on these final recordings does Jelly Roll play piano, despite the Library of Congress AFS accession catalogue cards showing otherwise. On the above recording there is: Jelly Roll Morton: speech/foot tapping/vocalizing and Alan Lomax with unidentified other(s): speech. Note: All of the final December 14, 1938 recordings are 10-inch double-sided lacquer covered aluminum discs and were recorded at 33.1/3 r.p.m. Alan Lomax possibly used a different recording machine and microphone and maybe at a different location, given that several months had passed by since the previous session of June 12, 1938. [DS 1] Note: Jelly Roll vocalizes the National Emblem rather than the National Anthem. At the time of this recording, the Star Spangled Banner was the officially recognized National Anthem. 2487 B a 2487 B b New Orleans Street Bands — v/p c — d THE MARCHING BANDS, Part 1 e Circle jm-79 (excerpt) f — g Rounder CD 1888 as: The First Hot Arrangements A fellow by the . . . [recording paused] When were the first . . . hot arrangements written, Jelly? Well, the first hot arrangements . . . that ever was in existence — and I played most all the popular tunes throughout the country, including the marches — was about the year of nineteen-twelve, in St. Louis. After I, after I got out of, er, William McCabe’s minstrel show in nineteen-twelve, or early part, in January, I think. I finally was able pick up a little job. I first went to work at a club there. A fella by the name of George Reynolds was playin’ piano. At that time, I kinda figured I was a pretty good singer — which it was way out the way, but I figured it anyhow. And I had a way that I’d never play in any city until I heard all that was there play. The fact of it is, that I had been in St. Louis from time and time and again, but they had a new, er, a lot of newcomers, er, such as Walter Farrington, Bob Hamilton and, er . . . different fellas like that. So I had taken a job as singing. And when I’d taken the job singing, I tried to correct George Reynolds, the pianist that was playin’ for me. Instead of him tryin’ to stand correction — he wasn’t, er, an able musician and he couldn’t read at all — he criticized me and demanded that I should play for my own self. I was a, a bit angry, so I told him that I could play for my own self and I would. After I played he become very much elated. Then they had a lot of music around there — he couldn’t read it, but he just had it, I guess, to . . . for the singers to learn the words. And, Daddy White was one. That’s really the fact, that’s what they bought . . . They bought the music to learn the words and let somebody else play the tune — maybe Artie Matthews — then they would copy it. So Daddy White was there with me and another fella named Red — there wasn’t no women entertainers — and myself. And it seems to be George Reynolds’ main object to crush me, and I needed the job very bad and my intention was to stop him from tryin’ to crush me. So, after I played for a while, they brought the music around and I started playin’ the music, and then they start to try to test me ‘cause there was a bunch of new fellas that didn’t know me. [inaudible comments] Did I? Yeah, well, all right. [inaudible comments] So I finally got a job anyway, away from this place, out in, er, a section, a kind of a German section, and they wanted some more musicians. Well, there weren’t an awful lot of musicians to pick from, outside of the piano, the guitar and the mandolin, and drums. And the first hot arrangements were made right along that time. I picked up a clarinet out of a band — a brass band — and I picked up a trumpet out of a brass band, and made, er, fixed up the guitar and a mandolin, and myself and drums. Were those hot men, Jelly? No, they weren’t hot men. They were Negroes, though? Yeah, they were Negroes. And did you write the arrangements for them that you wanted them to play? Yes. They read music, most of ‘em. And what did you write down, Jelly? Er, well, I would write down any kind of a tune at all — any popular tune. I think there’s a tune out, er, “Cryin’ Just For You” around that time. And, er, it was one of the tunes — I don’t remember off-handed. But all the popular tunes, I knew ‘em. And, er, we, we even jazzed at that time “Ist Das dis das Schnitzelbach,” a German tune, because we had to play that a lot. And I made the arrangements for these things because they didn’t play ‘em to suit me, and I told ‘em if they played what I had down on the paper, they would be playin’ exactly as I wanted ‘em to play. Well . . . where did you learn how to write arrangements for a band? You never played in any band. Oh, sure. I been playin’ in bands all my life. My first instrument was a guitar. I played . . . You didn’t know the trombone or the cornet or . . . ? Oh, yes. I, er . . . My first instrument was the guitar. Er, then later I played drums. I played, er, what you call . . . at that time they call ‘em trap drums — that was one, one man beat two drums. Yeah, but you didn’t play in any hot, hot bands? Oh, yes, it was ragtime bands. Where did they play? Er, they played in New Orleans. A lot of times we played in parades. Most, er, of course, they’d have from two to eight and ten parades, on Sunday. I’ve never seen it so small that they did only had one. And the style we played, er, during that time was a little bit different. We didn’t have large bands. Anybody that got the job, of course he offered the, the services — that is, er, I’ll say he offered — I’ll say the job, to different people. Well . . . how would this happen? I mean, a guy . . . somebody would tell you there was a parade. And what would happen, then? Well, somebody’d say, “Okay.” They used to . . . They didn’t call me Jelly Roll then. They called me Winding Ball, see. Say, “Winding Ball, there’s a parade coming up in such and such a, er, a . . . club.” Er, “Such and such a club have this, this date. Now, if you want this, I can get it for you.” Well, of course, it would mean five dollars for the leader, and two-and-a-half or three dollars for the men. So by being a leader — in that case, anybody could be a leader, all you had to do was get the job. All I’d have to do was get the job and I’d get the men. How would you go about getting the men? Well, all I would tell ‘em, “A parade . . .” Well, where did you go to find them? Oh, we found them very easily. Where’d you go? Er, we’d go right in the Tenderloin District. Right up Twenty-Fives, or around, er, er . . . You’d walk in the door, and what would you say? Say, “Boys, I got a job — Sunday.” You’d always know in the last few minutes, anyhow. You’d never know in front. Because it wasn’t really an organized band. They wouldn’t hire those big organized bands. “Boys, I got a job. Er, you want it?” — “What is it?” — “Parade.” — “When?” — “Sunday.” Everybody do, “Count me in. I’m in on it. I’m in on it.” They wasn’t in on it for the money so much, but they was on a, er . . . they was in on account of the drinks they could drink. Every time the parade would walk four or five blocks, why they’d stop and have a keg of beer, sandwiches and whisky, and all kinds of drinks. So that’s what they was really in on it, so they could get drunk and have a, er, a good time. Of course, they called it a ball. And of course, we had, er . . . [inaudible comments] Oh, they’d have plenty of fights. Did see plenty of fights. The boys’d have all kinds of fights, and throw rocks and broomsticks at one another, and they’d never try to hurt a musician. So it was fun for us to see a guy get beat up sometimes. So, er, all we had in the band as a rule, would be composed of a bass horn, one trombone, one trumpet, an alto, and maybe a baritone, a clarinet, and, er, a bass drum and snare drum. About seven, eight pieces be all we’d have. And, brother, I’m tellin’ you, talkin’ about noise, you never heard no sixty-piece band could make as much noise as those few guys could make. And what would you play? Well, sometimes I’d be playin’ trombone. Sometimes I’d be playin’ bass drum. And very seldom I played snare drum because they had . . . we had a pretty tough guy around New Orleans, Joe White. He’d always be playin’ the snare drum, and he was a good snare drum player. So I’d always be playin’ one or the other. And, of course, every time we’d get a few blocks we’d have plenty to drink and so forth and so on. I didn’t care so much for the drinking part . . . [inaudible comments] No, I didn’t, er, but, er, I did like to see the boys the way they used to act, you know, beat up the horses and go to the . . . And get drunk and says, “I can pick up this horse and grab his front legs and hold him up,” and all that kind of a stuff. And, er, the girls’d be waitin’ for ‘em to pass their doors, and giving them a general . . . hurrah and everything like that. Why, it was really a swell time. And we had plenty of fun, er, the kind of a fun I, I don’t think I’ve ever seen in any other place. Of course, there may be as nicer fun, but that particular kind — there was n-never that kind of fun anyplace, I think, on the face of the globe, but New Orleans. And we had that, er, every Sunday. So we had mostly a job every Sunday. And sometimes the big leaders would get the job. Like Manuel Perez or Buddy Bolden or some of them fellas. When they’d turn out it would be a battle of music on the street. I’ll dare say that the first time a battle of music was ever waged was in New Orleans, in those parades. Note: Nowhere on these final recordings does Jelly Roll play piano, despite the Library of Congress AFS accession catalogue cards showing otherwise. On the above recording there is: Jelly Roll Morton: speech and Alan Lomax with unidentified other(s): speech. Note: All of the final December 14, 1938 recordings are 10-inch double-sided lacquer covered aluminum discs and were recorded at 33.1/3 r.p.m. Alan Lomax possibly used a different recording machine and microphone and maybe at a different location, given that several months had passed by since the previous session of June 12, 1938. [DS 1] Note: Jelly Roll refers to a pianist in St. Louis he calls George Randalls on AFS 1653-B [q.v.], but on AFS 2487-B (above) he calls him George Reynolds, his correct name. George Reynolds was born in St. Louis, Missouri in 1888, and is recorded in both the 1910 and the 1920 U.S. Census as a resident of that city. His occupation is listed as a musician. He went to Chicago in the 1920s and recorded for Paramount Records in 1926 with a band led by Preston Jackson. He also recorded with Richard M. Jones’ Jazz Wizards in 1935. [PH 6] Note: Bob Hamilton mentioned by Jelly Roll above, is very probably the ragtime pianist and composer Robert Hampton. Note: The song is probably: Ist Das nicht ein Schnitzelbank. Jelly actually says: Ist Das dis das Schnitzelbach. 2488 A a 2488 A b New Orleans Street Bands — v/p c — d — e — f — g Rounder CD 1888 as: The Pensacola Kid and the Cadillac Café [inaudible comments] [inaudible comments] . . . nineteen, er, in, er, in Los Angeles. What were you doing? Well, er, I went to Los Angeles playing the Cadillac. You want me to say when, when I went to Chicago? Nineteen-seventeen when I went to Chicago? Before the — Los Angeles in twenty-seven. [inaudible comments] All right, whenever you’re ready. [begins strumming guitar] In nineteen-seventeen I had just came back to Chicago for a short while. I played two or three spots. I wouldn’t take a cheap job. [recording paused] [strums guitar during interview] In nineteen-seventeen I came back to Chicago . . . from a trip on the road. I had been foolin’ around, doin’ a lot of pool playing, just before the Pensacola Kid left for South America. He went to Buenos Aires, Argentine Republic. I even remember the address very well. His address was seven-four-seven, Tucuman Street, Hotel Stella, Buenos Aires, Argentine Republic, South America. Er, he went down there in order to try to beat all the pool players . . . at playin’ pool, which was no trouble because he had beat everything there was in America. He was a very shrewed pool player — beat everybody. But the of year of nineteen-seventeen he still didn’t have any money. I was quite prosperous. [clears throat] That was the year that Blankenship was the champion pool player of America. Blankenship came on the south side of Chicago and wanted to play anybody out there. And, er, it didn’t seem like anybody had much money, and Paul thought he could beat him — the Pensacola Kid. So him and I had been friends for years, and he said, “I can beat this guy.” I said, “He’s the champion of the world, you know.” You had to be good to beat the champion. “I know you’re good.” Of course I was good, too. So anyway, he wanted to play for two hundred. I had the money, but, I, I told him that fifty was enough, and I let him have the fifty dollars to play him. Er, Blankenship was almost out. The Pensacola Kid needed eighteen balls, and he left them very, very hard against the cushion. It was right in the centre of the table, and they was playin’ line-up pool. He was lined up exactly with the front ball, and it’s kind of very hard for him to make his shot. So he made the, the last ball on the table. He played, er, what you call the cushion tang and made that ball. By that time I was getting ready, thinkin’ about leaving Chicago. I didn’t like Chicago so much, they had an influx of a different class of people that was invadin’ Chicago at the time. So, just about that time, after being there a couple of months or a little more, a very prominent figure around Chicago by the name of Lovey Joe — Joe Woodson — he came to me and told me they had a job in Los Angeles that they particularly wanted me if they could get me. I didn’t even stop to ask him for salary, because I was so anxious to get away from Chicago. I told him, okay, I would take the job. And this job happened to be in Los Angeles, California, at the Cadillac Café. They previously had a band playin’ there when I went to the Cadillac. This band was named the Black and Tan Band — that’s the name they had taken. They had no fame at all. It was a band consisting of four pieces. Four? Trumpet, trombone, drums and piano. But they didn’t have a regular piano player. They’d take up anybody who could half-way do it. When I went to Los Angeles, it was taking the job away from these boys. And they also had a brass band to meet me at the station. I’m telling you it was a funny situation. I had a lot of clothes those days. But the funny thing, I took my . . . my chosen — was a blue suit to travel in. I went over the Santa Fe Road, it happened to be in the summertime, and my God, the dust was terrible. And this blue serge suit, by riding in the tourist car, the dust could get to me just as it seen fit. I was almost as dusty as a boll weevil. When I got to Los Angeles and, had to havin’ a big brass band to meet me at the station . . . When I got off with all that dust, immediately, the newcomers that didn’t know me wanted to know was that the hot Jelly Roll they was talking about? Said, “It’s the first thing this guy needs to do is go to the cleaners — he’s got a dirty suit of clothes on.” And it was a fact — it was terribly dirty. But it was a new suit, and it looked swell when I left Chicago. Well anyway, I thought my trunk would be there that night, because I had to start to work that very night. But instead of my trunk comin’, it was delayed for three or four days and I had to wear the same suit. Then they was sure that I didn’t have anything at all. And I was under very, very tough criticism from beginning. I was very well up on the piano and a lot of the entertainers there knew me. We had about ten, I remember a few of ‘em. We had Albertine Pickens, and, er, had Ross, and Rucker — one of ‘em was a comedian, and one was a singer — had Bricktop. And, er, some of ‘em was from out there in California. So they thought it was very strange because I had been a very good dresser, to come there with only one suit of clothes. Of course, after my trunks got there . . . Well I like to turn the town out — thought I was one of the movie stars, I had so many clothes. Well anyway, on my opening night, they had to have the police department to stop the crowd — I guess I was pretty well advertised. And things went on that way, er, for quite a while, and then the movie star trade started in. They heard about me, and we didn’t have anything but movie stars for I don’t know how long — so long as the place ran there. As long as I stayed there, until I got in a argument with Bricktop. Er, Bricktop — I’ve known her since she was a kid. Born and raised in Chicago, er, much younger than myself, but she had learned the art of the average entertainer. That was when she got a big bill to switch it and put a small bill in its place. And I had my eyes on. In those days, I never looked at the keys and never turned around — I always looked at the entertainers. For every move they’d make, I had ‘em. Whether they was singin’ or whether they was stealin’, I had ‘em both ways. So, er, Bricktop went south in her stocking with a ten dollar bill after we’d played quite a little while, and I’d seen her, and I demanded from the boss that she come up out of her stocking. The boss says, “Well, I’ll pay the ten dollar bill.” I said, “Don’t you pay it. I wanna make her come up with it.” I said, “You payin’ it will only encourage her to steal further.” And he didn’t want to do it. So Bricktop, er, know, er, know Hegamin very well — Lucille Hegamin’s husband. The former was a blues singer for the Columbia records. [clears throat] Note: Nowhere on these final recordings does Jelly Roll play piano, despite the Library of Congress AFS accession catalogue cards showing otherwise. On the above recording there is: Jelly Roll Morton: speech/guitar and Alan Lomax with unidentified other(s): speech. Note: All of the final December 14, 1938 recordings are 10-inch double-sided lacquer covered aluminum discs and were recorded at 33.1/3 r.p.m. Alan Lomax possibly used a different recording machine and microphone and maybe at a different location, given that several months had passed by since the previous session of June 12, 1938. [DS 1] Note: Hotel Stella mentioned above by Jelly Roll, has been incorrectly transcribed by Alan Lomax (or the stenographer) as the Sala Hotel in Mister Jelly Roll. [MJR 159] Note: Ricardo Manella and members of the Caoba Jazz Band recently searched Tucuman Street in Buenos Aires, Argentina for the Hotel Stella at number 747. Unfortunately, the hotel is no longer at this address. Ricardo spoke to several old-timers who still live in the area, and they remembered the Hotel Stella being in Tucuman Street in earlier times. [RM] Note: Bricktop mentioned above by Jelly Roll, is Ada “Bricktop” Smith. In Mister Jelly Roll Alan Lomax refers to her as Bright Red. In view of what Jelly Roll says about Bricktop, he may have introduced the name of Bright Red in his book to avoid any litigation with Ada “Bricktop” Smith. [MJR 160-161] 2488 B a 2488 B b New Orleans Street Bands — v/p c — d — e — f