In 1950, Mrs. [Franklin D.] Roosevelt took Josh on a concert tour of Europe. In England, Norway, Sweden, Denmark and Scotland, he sang to sell-out crowds. Fifty thousand people showed up for one concert in Stockholm and at an Ambassador's party on Copenhagen; even the King of Denmark sat on the floor and joined in singing spirituals. In England, Princess Margaret asked Josh to sing Don't Smoke In Bed - Peter Rachtman, July, 1961 issue of 33 Guide, on Josh White's earlier visits to Europe
I wish my friend Ernie and Jorma, and Stephen whom I've met and Elijah who I've connected with via email the best of luck in spreading the word and furthering appreciation of this American musical Titan. The more tributes by his acolytes the better as far as I'm concerned.
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My loathings are simple: stupidity, oppression, crime, cruelty, soft music. Vladimir Nabokov (1899 - 1977)
You should be on the bill, O'Muck. Like me, I theorize you just ain't had a desire to be a famous recordin' artist. Not that I've got anything against it but there are many of us who just don't care about broader public recognition, except when it's live and fairly spontaneous. Money does help.
« Last Edit: November 15, 2011, 06:25:49 PM by Rivers »
Thanks Rivers. Actually I did have the desire to get paid for making and selling records once upon a time, came sort of close at one point too with my erstwhile duo The Hot Hokum Hilarity Boys ?. The other guitar player Mike Schwartz, was the person who, having already taken lessons from RGD, directed both Ernie Hawkins & Me to his doorstep, separately however, Ernie & I only met in person two years ago. But then the prospect of locking myself in a room, painting pictures, and breathing turpentine fumes for thirty years got the better of me. Due to economic necessity though, I am at the age of sixty (in a month and a half), staging a comeback! Talk about yer long, longshots! Listen for me on a subway platform near you!
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My loathings are simple: stupidity, oppression, crime, cruelty, soft music. Vladimir Nabokov (1899 - 1977)
If I see you at the end of the platform or any other public venue I will prepare surreptitiously in my sweaty palm, as one does, a bill of suitable denomination, and a small bottle of the finest turpentine, ready to slip into your waiting hat.
« Last Edit: November 15, 2011, 07:54:59 PM by Rivers »