In honor of March being Women’s History Month, I had dedicated myself to presenting profiles on female blues artists and influencers.  The four profiles dedicate to Woen’s History Month on classic period blues singer Sara Martin, Chicago modern-day vocalist Valerie Wellington, ribald vocalist Blue Lu Barker, and Trumpet Records founder Lillian McMurry were very well received.  It was exciting to take the necessary detour into the female influence in the blues, and it goes without saying that I was only able to tackle the tip of the iceberg.  There remain so many important female blues artists and influencers I could still profile, including Bessie Smith, Ida Cox, Ma Rainey, and Big Maybelle, to name but a few.  So, throughout the rest of the year, I will diligently work to incorporate more female blues artist profiles into the Curt’s Blues Blog.  Watch for those in the coming months.

“Wine, women, whiskey, gonna be the death of me!”  So begins the roughest, nastiest, and arguably the most powerful tune, “Wine, Women, Whiskey,” by a blues artist that most blues fans have likely never heard of; Alexander “Papa George” Lightfoot.  The song was originally released in 1954 on the Imperial label, with the flip side being “Mean Old Train.”  The tune almost sounds psychedelic for the fact of its raggedly sonic crush.  There is no subtlety to be found, as Lightfoot ferociously pleads with his lady to return to him (singing through his harmonica microphone), knowing full well that the three appetites he cites are nonetheless long-term detriments for relationship success.  His harmonica loudly squalls and howls, and the band churns and lurches forward with equal abandon.  It is blues at its supreme powerful best.

 The other night I was listening to the excellent Ace Records compilation entitled Harp Blues (Ace CDCHD 710), a compilation of tremendous blues harmonica artists including Lightfoot, Dr. Ross, Cousin Leroy, Frank Frost, Eddie Hope & Mannish Boys, Shy Guy Douglas, George Smith, Snooky Pryor, Shakey Horton, and an additional cast of names blues fans would find familiar.  As I slipped the disc into my CD player, the first song that came roaring back at me at volume was Lightfoot’s “Wine, Women, Whiskey.”  It is difficult to completely frame into words just how extraordinarily muscular the song is; it is authoritatively commanding.  It struck me that I’ve never written a brief profile of Lightfoot before, so this week’s artist profile necessarily becomes about him.

Alexander Lightfoot came into the world in very early March, 1924 in Natchez, Mississippi, the only city in, and county seat of, Adams County, a region in the southwestern portion of the state.  As is the case with so many of the blues artists who operated on the fringes of the music, virtually nothing is known about his earliest developmental years.  Perhaps the best way to start here is to address Natchez’s position in the history of the blues.

Historically, Black musical forms in Natchez have encompassed a very wide swath of forms and genres, across its earliest years up to present times.  Today, and not surprisingly, the hip hop form has made its way into the Black performing arts in an area that at various times throughout its existence has seen early string band units, the entrancing lure of the fife and drum cadences, the unpredictable forms that can be jazz, certainly the driving beats of R&B, “The Word” of the Lord via gospel stylings, and of course, blues.  One can only reasonably surmise that with the musical bygones of Natchez’s past when Lightfoot was young, his influences were many in spite of not being readily known.

Regrettably, Natchez is also well remembered for the tragic 1940 fire at the city’s Rhythm Club, a catastrophe that took the lives of roughly 200 area inhabitants, and one that claimed the band of Walter Barnes, plus Barnes himself.  For a long period following the terrible event, Natchez Blacks were loath to sing any secular forms of music, feeling that only religious fare was just and proper in light of the event.  It was the way the community necessarily had to heal.

Eventually, though, the disaster was sufficiently mourned upon, and after folks grieved, a point came where returning to normal day-to-day activities was acceptable.  And that included on Natchez’s music scene, as the various area venues began to once again offer music and celebratory times.  As would be expected, existing musical practitioners and new talent came forward, as the music landscape opened up more and more.

Out of this period emerged a newfound Natchez music atmosphere, and it didn’t take long before Lightfoot was branded the best recognized of the Natchez blues practitioners.  Due to his local celebrity, Lightfoot found his prominent stature via two primary sources.  First, he was afforded the opportunity to play his brand of high-energy, impassioned blues via a national radio outlet (imagine how this must have impressed fellow residents to have a local son make the “big time”) and, two, he began the recording phase of his career with releases on a number of imprints.

But Lightfoot’s first recording venture went nowhere.  His initial recording efforts were for the Don Robey’s well-known Peacock Records label in 1949 and, unfortunately, those sides were not released.  Then, in 1950, Lightfoot took his blues sensibilities into the recording studio of the Sultan Records imprint whose ownership was inter-racial in scope and included one Jack Davis, laying down a couple of cuts including “Winding Ball Mama” and “Snake Hipping Daddy.”  The reader here may know Davis by another name; Wolfman Jack.

The Sultan Records recordings propelled Lightfoot further into the consciousness of his established audience, and created new converts, and he continued to perform on the Mississippi circuit.  In 1952 and 1953, Lightfoot yet again entered the studio, this time for the Los Angeles, California-based Aladdin label, under the name Papa Lightfoot, His Harmonica, And His Orchestra. 

But the most astounding recording session of Lightfoot’s career to-date was to come in 1954 when, in New Orleans, he laid down the tracks “Mean Old World” and the aforementioned “Wine, “Women,” “Whiskey,” under the name Papa Lightfoot.  An amazing version of “When The Saints Go Marching In” was also recorded, and it is highly regarded for its inventiveness and high quality; it is also something of a rarity in the record collecting world.

Lightfoot’s abraded vocal style, and rough-formed, audibly-brusque harmonica tendencies were his calling cards.  He went on to have singles released for both the Savoy Records and Excello Records labels in the mid-1950s, though these were his last recordings of that decade.

As the folk blues boom unfurled in the 1960s, Lightfoot was sought out by the noted record producer and blues researcher Steve Lavere, resulting in a 1969 release on the Vault label entitled Natchez Trace.  The eight-song release included a full band including bass, drums, and guitar, and generally represented Lightfoot in his best light.  The collection also had an additional huge benefit; it ever-so-briefly introduced Lightfoot to folk blues crowd.  Lightfoot was also included on the multinational Liberty label on a compilation with other artists where he had two cuts included.

However, the momentum that Lightfoot was experiencing would prove to be short-lived.  His performing career was somewhat sporadic, and it is said that residents in Natchez recall him as selling ice cream in the area.

Despite still soldiering on as a folk/blues performer when possible, Lightfoot was cut down by a respiratory affliction in 1971, succumbing to the malady in late November, 1971 in his hometown of Natchez.

Blues harmonica players today still cite Lightfoot as one of those under-the-radar influences that resonate within their individual styles.  In many ways, Lightfoot’s amplified, rather in-your-face playing and vocal delivery were parallel to what happened after The Great Migration northward when Black blues performers plugged-in to be heard over the commotion of the urban joints.

If nothing else, seek out some of Lightfoot’s resounding blues commotion to weigh his formidable strengths.  I think you’ll be incredibly impressed.