“Eagle Rock me baby ‘till my face turns cherry red, cherry red.”. So goes Big Joe in the grand song “Cherry Red” that spurred The Blasters on to write “Hollywood Bed”. Eagle Rock is a neighborhood in Northeast L.A. that no one really lives in. It takes a heckuva big man to admit being in Eagle Rock and Big Joe Turner was a big man. He is primarily known, as a blues shouter that started as “The Singing Bartender” in Kansas City and along with pianist Pete Johnson, Joe would sing the blues sans microphone. As we jump to the 50’s, Joe replaced another blues shouter great, Jimmy Rushing in Count Basie’s Orchestra. “Shake, Rattle and Roll” helped put Big Joe (Jose Grande to mi amigos south of the border, you know who you are, in fact the USA knows who you are and believe me, we are watching your every movement!) on the musical map. Much more risqué than Bill Haley’s sickening innocent, wonderbreaded white dude’s Langendorf version, Joe’s version rips out all decency, throws it out the window and when he sings “I can’t believe all that mess belongs to you” he ain’t talking about the state of the apartment and one can never think of the kitchen in the same way after hearing this song. Turner had many more great songs and please delve into his works. He truly left us a legacy of pure blues and jumpin’ sounds. Big Joe died in 1985 in Inglewood, California of heart failure. It was a sad day in my life when I heard the news. The man knew how to swing it. He was a cool one….a cool one! RIP Joe Turner
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I always remembered there was a huge old black and white portrait of Joe at Music Machine in Santa Monica. I often wondered what became of that picture. It was a beautiful portrait and I truly hope that a blues fan has it in his/her possession. My friend, Don (Mr. Hollywood) Butler had the pleasure of seeing Joe live and even getting his autograph (Joe was supposed to be illiterate and probably didn’t think too kindly of some ofay kid in shades asking for his signature). I blew the chance of seeing Big Joe live. On one occasion he played a tiny bar in Fountain Valley, right next to my work, named The Swizzle Stick. I must have been high on Naldecon or something to miss that gig. I imagine I must have been pretty dawg tired of being pushed around by “The Man” all day long! And I didn’t have no Jose Feliciano to bail me out with a good timey theme song either! I’m a Mexican NOT A Puerto Rican dammit! What a freaking schmuck for missing that gig.
This portrait was painted in a mixture of acrylic and oils. I am not sure why either, ask my superagent, Timmy T., he handles all inquiries. His portrait is based in blue streaks and I gave Joe the spiritual fire that seems to be a constant aspect in a lot of my stuff. I reckon it signifies soul and life and a certain forever, eternal, greatness. I also picked the Kansas City era Joe because I like to think of him singing without a microphone coming out from behind the bar. Oh, to be able to go back in time, folks. Man, to be serenaded by the master. I also gave him a sort of pissed off look on his face. I have an LP of his titled “I Don’t Dig It” which cracks me up to no end. For you see peeps, I am a simple man with simple hopes and dreams. Also a nod of recognition to Downey California’s The Blasters. They had the thrill of backing and being mentored and helping out The Great Joe in the early stages of their wondrous career. Thanks again for listening and hey, put an apple in that cat’s mouth