An Exclusive Interview With Maria Muldaur

Maria Muldaur: blues W-O-M-A-N

by Pamela L. Dow

Maria Muldaur's sinewy and sensual voice has excelled through four decades' worth of recorded material and live performances. Her deep connection to roots music has been a calling from the very beginning ... a spiritual mission that has played a major role throughout her career.

Born Maria D'Amato, September 12, 1943, in Greenwich Village, Maria grew up in the middle of America's folk revival mecca. Bluegrass, folk, jazz and Gospel music filled the air all around her ... but her first influences came from a country western radio station. At the age of five, she listened to Hank Williams and Kitty Wells. As a teenager, D'Amato was drawn to the early sounds of r&b: Fats Domino, Little Richard and Ruth Brown, especially. Her fascination with the girl groups, like The Shirelles, inspired her own girl doo-wop groups in high school.

A growing disenchantment with the commercial music industry drew Maria's attention to the music happening all around her in Greenwich Village during the early 1960s. She regularly joined in on the legendary daily jam sessions in Washington Square Park during that era. These all night sessions sometimes included legendary artists relocated up north like Bukka White, Skip James, Mississippi John Hurt, Rev. Gary Davis and blues diva Victoria Spivey.

Following a concert by Doc Watson and Gaither Carlton, D'Amato moved to North Carolina to study Appalachian style fiddle for a short time. The wealth of experience she gained from that visit was quickly incorporated into her repertoire. Returning to New York, D'Amato was asked by John Sebastian and David Grisman to join their group The Even Dozen Jug Band. This was her initial introduction to bare bones, stripped down traditional acoustic blues and Delta blues music from original artists Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey and Memphis Minnie, who remains Maria's most inspirational influence.

Following Even Dozen's short lived success, D'Amato moved to Cambridge in Boston to investigate the lively folk scene there. She quickly joined The Jim Kweskin Jug Band, where she met her future husband, fellow bandmate Geoff Muldaur. The couple married and had a daughter, and the Kweskin Jug Band enjoyed a successful run through the revival, recording four pivotal albums for Vanguard. Maria's first featured solo with the group was, "I'm a Woman," a definitive theme song that's been her own ever since.

After the Kweskin Jug Band fell apart, Geoff and Maria went on to record two albums as a couple, moving to Woodstock, N.Y., and joining a new musical community that included Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, The Band and Paul Butterfield.

But, the acoustic folk and blues she'd grown to love seemed to be disappearing, making an intensely powerful transformation into a contemporary electric sound. Geoff joined Paul Butterfield to start their own band, dissolving his musical partnership and marriage with Maria.

Now a single mother, Muldaur felt alone and scared, friends encouraged her to start a solo career. She spoke with Mo Ostin, president of Reprise Records, explaining that the duo act with husband Geoff had ended. Unfazed by the split, Ostin sent Muldaur to L.A. to record her self-titled solo debut. That record produced the 1974 top ten hit, "Midnight at the Oasis." Throughout the rest of the decade, Muldaur recorded critically acclaimed albums for Reprise, which, though well received, were unable to recreate that initial commercial success.

The 1980s saw Muldaur heading in a different musical direction (traditional Gospel music) and she found greater success and artistic freedom by forging relationships with smaller record labels. Muldaur changed gears again, with an album of jazz and blues standards, receiving high praise from music aficionados. It was followed by tours with Dr. John.

But, it was during that next decade that Muldaur realized her most satisfying success as an artist. She was performing to sold out shows throughout the U.S. and Europe. And Dr. John's musical influence inspired Muldaur to develop her own unique sound, blending Louisiana's swamp roots music with early r&b, and adding the authentic blues styles of Memphis Minnie and Bessie Smith. Maria called it "Bluesiana."

Today, it's without question that Muldaur has established herself as a well versed, knowledgeable artist, recognized and respected for her constant devotion representing the diverse styles of American roots music. She received numerous W.C. Handy and Grammy nominations for her albums, Louisiana Love Call, Meet Me at Midnight, and for the impressive collaborative work Richland Woman Blues in 2001. Muldaur's musical journey continues to grow, forging a path of significant milestones along the way. She maintains a demanding tour schedule and between performances you'll find her working vigorously on studio projects and media productions focused specifically on giving American roots music greater exposure to a much wider audience, truly her life long passion.

That same passion was expressed during my recent interview with Muldaur, and the best way to get the legendary singer's story is to get out of the way and let her tell it ...

"Music plucked me at an early age, grabbed my attention, and chose me. I followed it since I first heard Hank Williams and Kitty Wells at the age of five. I had a couple of girl doo-wop groups through my teen years ... you know, digging that early r&b until I heard old-timey music, bluegrass and the blues at 17. My whole life can be described as a long, rambling odyssey through various forms of American roots music. That's what I do. I explore it, I absorb it, and learn everything I can about it. My passions change from one decade to the next, but they always comes back to authentic American roots music, whether it be blues, bluegrass, old-timey or Gospel. I like the phrase 'American roots music' better than 'folk.' It also includes jazz, which is an American art form, and avoids corny images of the guys in A Mighty Wind [laughing], like guys in striped shirts, strumming on nylon stringed guitars, singing 'Kumbuya' or something.

"I happened to have an enormous pop hit with 'Midnight at the Oasis' in 1974. That was a happy and most fortunate accident for me ... but that's just a blessing God placed on this musical path I've been treading.

"I can't believe how roots music has proliferated since I started playing old-time fiddle. I was a teenager when I first heard Doc Watson and his family do a concert in Greenwich Village where I grew up. His father-in-law, Gaither Carlton played some very sweet old-time Appalachian fiddle tunes, and I immediately fell in love with the whole genre. I made friends with them and got invited down to North Carolina to learn fiddle from Gaither.

"This was what we now jokingly refer to as 'the folk scare' ... a renaissance of people from the urban north discovering and re-discovering roots music which mostly sprang from the American south. That included blues, jug band, bluegrass and Appalachian music (the pre-cursor to bluegrass ... what we called old-timey). Artists we thought of as being legends heard on scratchy old 78s were actually rediscovered and brought up to the urban north for concerts. That included a lot of Delta blues guys we never dreamed were still alive. They seemed to be these mythical figures out of the past ... people like Mississippi John Hurt, Bukka White, Skip James, Son House, Mississippi Fred McDowell and, oh, so many more. Victoria Spivey, a contemporary of Bessie Smith, was still alive and kicking in the '60s. She was the first artist I knew who was savvy enough to have her own record label. She took me under her wing, started teaching me all about stage presence, singing the blues and all kinds of tricks of the trade she wanted to pass on to me, for which I feel really blessed.

"There was a lot of cross-pollination of various musical styles going on, too. There was a natural buzz and excitement about what was happening, though it died down once the commercial music industry got a hold of it. Then Dylan went electric, much to the horror of some 'real purists' that were on the scene at the time. He wasn't gonna let their opinions stop him from forging the beautiful, deep and wide swath across the American musical landscape he was destined to make. So, the folk craze seemed to be over ... but this music is of the people, for the people, and by the people. It wasn't going to fade away.

"About once a year, Dylan comes through town, and I try to make it a point to see him. I'm never disappointed. He's always reinventing himself, getting better and better. Usually we'll have a little visit ... and over the last 10 years, every time I see him, he's been nudging me and nagging me about playing my fiddle. I laid that down when I got more involved in blues and r&b, having hit records and raising a child. My musical path took me away from old-timey music for quite a time. I always enjoyed it if I happened to hear it, but Dylan always says, 'People need to hear ya, you gotta pick that thing up!' 'People need to hear that rustic way you play.' To which I say, 'That's a very kind way of putting it, Bob. [laughing] You know ... rusty is more like it!' So, a few years ago, after he nudged me for about the fifth time, I thought 'I can't let another year go by. If I come see him next year and haven't been practicing my fiddle, I just can't face him.'"

"All through the 1990s, I had a group called 'Maria and the Red Hot Bluesiana Band' playing my brand of New Orleans flavored, swamp funk and r&b. I made two records for Black Top, a great blues label that's now defunct. I started touring around and realized there's more blues clubs, blues festivals, blues societies, blues cruises, blues record labels, blues artists than there probably ever were in the '20s and '30s when [the music] was first emerging. This is also true in Europe and points beyond, every summer I've gotta lock my guys in early for touring with me. Most of the great players are busy touring Europe from May through November.

"Blues is another brand of music that gets barely a nod from the commercial media. People do this for the love of it. A long-time pal of mine, who's a giant in the world of blues, is constantly expressing his frustration that this music isn't more recognized. I tell him, 'That's the nature of it!' But that's the beauty of it, too. You can't commercialize it. You have to be satisfied with a smaller, more underground, under-the-radar presence, but, it's a presence that has true organic vitality.

"I went to an amazing bluegrass festival last week-end right here in San Francisco, far away from the birthplace of bluegrass. It lasted for three days and had a huge attendance. Fabulous artists came from all over the cream of the crop of bluegrass was there: Emmy Lou Harris, Ralph Stanley, Peter Rowan ... just about everyone that's anyone in bluegrass. To my thrill, Ralph Stanley calls me up from the audience to sing a song I recorded with him in front of about 12 to 15,000 people.

"When you're a singer--I'm a singer first and foremost, whatever else I do--you really appreciate great singing! I mean, to me, Ralph Stanley is the singingest person in America. I first turned Bonnie Raitt on to him about six months ago. She knew who he was, but had never been to one of his shows. It was just a thrill for me to watch her jaw drop further and further with every note he sang. His artistry and his soulfulness just goes so deep. It's beyond description, you know, the way it affects you. I looked at her, she was just so surprised you know, and I said, 'Honey... it's the blues ... he put the BLUE in bluegrass!' [laughing] That's what it is and when you hear these bluegrass guys, they talk about the blues influencing them. In the south, early on there was a lot more integration than we, up here in the north, were led to believe. Officially that wasn't the party line, but as it turns out, whites and blacks were musically and spiritually sharing on a very deep level. There's a great film called, High Lonesome Sound, mostly featuring Bill Monroe, but Ralph Stanley's in it, too. Bill Monroe talks about learning a lot of his singing from an old black musician that lived nearby and if you read the story of Hank Williams, you'll hear the same thing. It's well known that black people loved listening to Hank Williams and to Jimmie Rodgers, so the rural south was just a hot bed of music fertility."

Maria has two very important blues projects in the works ...

"I did an album a couple of years ago called, Richland Woman Blues, and I'm just finishing the long awaited follow up called, Sweet Love and Old Soul. It's gonna be a lot more Memphis Minnie. I did a Butterbeans and Suzy song called, 'Ain't Whatcha Once Have Had, It's Whatcha Holdin' Now,' that I just recorded with Taj Mahal. Fritz Richmond, who used to play jug in the Kweskin jug band, is blowing jug on a tune. It's got Del Ray playing fabulous Memphis Minnie style guitar on about five cuts and it's gonna have another Memphis Minnie/Kansas Joe duet with Alvin Youngblood Hart, and another Bessie Smith/Clara Smith duet with Tracy Nelson. You know, it's gonna be more simple country blues. We also have plans in the works, if we can pull it all off logistically, for Pinetop Perkins to play piano on a track. Sweet Love and Old Soul is coming out on Stony Plain Records in early 2005.

"I'm about to go do a concert and make an album, and it's gonna be taped to DVD (hopefully for a PBS special) honoring the early divas of the blues: Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, Victoria Spivey, Sippie Wallace ... the last two personally mentored me. I got to actually perform and record with Sippie Wallace, [though I] never did with Victoria. Both the CD and DVD are going to be called Naughty, Bawdy and Blue.

"I was so taken aback with Martin Scorsese's big PBS presentation, The Blues. I was really looking forward to it, but there was scarcely any mention of the early blues women. They did mention Bessie Smith ... and there was a wonderful performance by Bonnie [Raitt] doing a Skip James song. It was really a soulful moment, and one of the only female presences there, except for a brief encounter with Ruth Brown that I remember seeing. How can you tell the story of the blues, without mentioning these woman! They took the blues off the back porch and out into beautiful vaudeville theaters. You know, they were the first to sell a million records not only in the blues, but probably in any musical format at all. Bessie Smith and Mamie Smith, they sold a million records during a time when not everybody had phonographs, everybody was dirt poor. The hype and commercial advertising wasn't what it is now and yet, these soulful voices brought the blues out there. They're the first pop stars period, and, unlike Memphis Minnie whom I dearly love and is probably my biggest musical hero, these woman were the true meaning of the word diva. I mean, they wore beaded gowns, they had costume changes during shows and they were treated like stars because they were stars. I'm no historian, so I don't know exactly, but they're among the first popular stars of our culture. To just barely mention them! ... Today, folks revere Mississippi John Hurt, of course, or Robert Johnson. They made these fabulous recordings, but they were only appreciated by this very small underground audience, even at that time.

"Scorsese's omission, has become my mission. A man named Ron Harwood who rediscovered Sippie Wallace when I think he was barely out of high school, called the Jug Band and said, 'I think I found Sippie Wallace playing piano in a church here in Detroit.' We said, 'Going Up the Country' Sippie Wallace?, and he said, 'Yea, I think so.' Kweskin flew out there and sure enough it was, he introduced us to her. We ended up taking her to town hall and doing a concert with her, we flew Otis Spann in from Chicago, and did a recording with her. I sang a duet or two with her, I was just in my early 20s, she was in her late 60s, and went on to have a total resurgence for several years later. Bonnie Raitt recorded a few of her songs, and Ron Harwood quit college and became her road manager. He's going to film this whole thing, and we're gonna pay proper tribute to these woman so they won't be forgotten.

"The thing about this music, the songs women wrote almost a hundred years ago are about universal issues. The whole man/ woman dance if you will, and all the issues that go along with it, nothing's changed, you know, women's lib has come and gone. I want to make a point: these were the first liberated women! These women were having a sexual revolution long before all these college gals in the late 1960s decided that they should have one. I mean if you listen to the lyrics of these songs, you'll hear ... without help from professors or physiologists, the media or any big bra burning demonstrations [laughs] the blues divas were living the life they pleased and they didn't care. As Bessie Smith sang, 'If I go to church on Sunday and stay in bed all day Monday, ain't nobody's business if I do' ... they didn't care, they were sexually liberated.

"They were black. They were dirt poor. And they were living in the rural south which, though most musically fertile, was the most restrictive and up-tight area. Plus, there was a depression going on and they rose up out of nothing ... out of the dirt to become these beautiful goddesses of self-reliance and great sensual femininity. We're hoping this project will get aired on PBS. It's being filmed with that in mind ... they're going to be [filming] the whole concert, which includes a boogie woogie piano summit. I'm no Martin Scorsese, but it'll be my little way to shine a light on these woman who presented an essence of true femininity that transcended the time period they were in or what was trendy ... musically, socially or politically. What woman couldn't relate to these songs about love lost, love won, getting two-timed, being jealous, overcoming loss, the same issues we have today?

"The thing about the blues that I love is that it never talks about it from a victimized point of view. People think it's like a big sob story, but there's something in the way the story is presented, in which the singer, the teller of the story and the listener to the story, transcend the pain or the problems by the end of the song. It's in the confessing of it, there's power in confession. You get it out, you exorcize those demons by telling it like it really is ... not some white-washed version ... not some candy coated version ... not some air brushed version of it. The thing about the blues--why it's remained such a powerful, viable, and ever growing musical form of expression is that it expresses the true concerns and issues of the human heart and soul.

"Every human soul goes through these phases and through these changes. There's blues about death. There's blues about God. There's blues about romance. There's blues about finance, you know. It's a way of telling a story and overcoming trouble. That's why people go to a shrink. They spend over a hundred dollars an hour to sit on a couch and talk about what's on their mind. Well, for a lot less money you can go to a local juke joint, have a beer, listen to a good blues band and feel like a lot of your troubles got expelled by the end of the night.

"Naughty, Bawdy and Blue is going to feature another vein of the blues, where these queens of the blues got to play with Louis Armstrong's band, with really hot, five to seven piece jazz bands. They really stood on the cusp of where blues and jazz intersected at that time. So it's gonna be a little bit more of a produced 'uptown project.' It's gonna be funky as hell. It's gonna be horns, bass and drums ... in fact I'm cutting this album with the band that used to back Sippie Wallace after we rediscovered her: Jim Depagny and the Chicago All-Star Jazz Band. We're hoping Naughty, Bawdy and Blue will be coming out on Stony Plain Records in early 2006.

"I'm hoping that Bonnie will join me for a duet on the project, too. She wants to do a tune that I recorded with Sippie called 'Separation Blues.' I sang harmony with Sippie [the last time], so this time I would sing lead. It was very special because Sippie was so kind and influential to both of us. So, I'll sing lead and Bonnie will sing harmony, that's our plan anyway, we both want to come together and make a special tribute to Sippie."

"I had my first opportunity to cut a blues song "Empty Bed Blues'--when I was 21. I was singing it with all my heart and soul, but I just didn't have the voice then. I must have sounded ridiculous. This is even 10 years before "Midnight at the Oasis" and you remember how my voice sounded on that? Like a light, lilting, little thrush, you know. [laughing] I guess it wasn't very convincing, because the producer chose not to use it on the album. I was heartbroken, a lot of people told me, kinda patronizingly, not to bother singing the blues, just stick to that nice light, jazzy sound I had. But my passion for the blues was so deep and so heartfelt. I never gave up. You know, 40 years of singing experience has given me the vocal chops, the depth and the breadth. Forty years of life experience has definitely given me the authority to sing the blues. So now, 40 years later, I'm recording "Empty Bed Blues. 'I assure you, people will believe it.

"So, to any women looking to get into this business, I would say, first of all, to love what your doing. To realize that you may never be a big pop star, and to realize it doesn't matter. The blues will endure forever. You've chosen a musical idiom that continues to evolve and grow ... where you can evolve and grow with it. You know, if you're good, then you've been chosen by God to be a storyteller that really moves people. That's what your job is when you're singing and playing the blues! To move people beyond their pain ... to move them to a place of transcendence and joy ... and [laughing] to make a lot of good party music too!"

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www.mariamuldaur.com

(C) 2005  P. L. Dow