Below in this week’s Curt’s Blues Blog, there is a review of the superb Mojo Buford’s Chicago Blues Summit CD, a 1979 collection that includes an amazing array of Chicago blues guitar talent, including Sammy Lawhorn, Little Smokey Smothers, Sonny Rogers, and Pee Wee Madison.  For the informed lover of Chicago blues, perhaps these names are known.  But for most blues fans, either there is a peripheral understanding of the individual skill sets of these modern Chicago blues artists, or there is none at all.  But without any proviso whatsoever, the bluesmen who lent their considerable blues guitar skills to Buford’s outing were bedrocks of the contemporary Chicago blues scene of the period.

While listening to the Mojo Buford’s Chicago Blues Summit CD this week, I reminisced about where I had witnessed the genius of each of the Chicago blues guitarists who took part in the amazing recording project.  I could see in my mind Sammy Lawhorn a genius one minute with his astounding proficiencies at B.L.U.E.S. on N. Halsted St. in Chicago one minute, and then by the end of the next set being slumped over in his chair on-stage, passed-out due to the effects of his alcohol consumption.  My mind wandered to a brilliant afternoon in Chicago’s Grant Park witnessing Little Smokey Smothers’ big, fluid tone on guitar, joyously singing the blues to an adoring crowd.  Sonny Rogers brought me to my blues knees one night in Minneapolis, Minnesota while playing a show with blues harmonica great Mojo Buford.  In fact, his 45rpm of “Big Leg Woman/Cadillac Blues” that resides in my personal collection gets frequent play.  As an aside, the single was voted the best Blues Single Of 1990 at the W.C. Handy awards. 

And then there is Pee Wee Madison.  My recollections harken back to seeing Fred Johnson & the Checkmates featuring Pee Wee Madison at the Celebrity Lounge which was located in the 4800 block on S. Cottage Grove Ave. in Chicago.  Johnson was something of a soul-infused singer/shouter, and as out-front as Johnson could be was as curiously withdrawn as Madison was during performance.  When Lawhorn and Madison played in Muddy Waters band, they were truly point-counter point to one another.  Lawhorn provided a multifaceted chording approach and gliding single-string solos to his blues playing with Waters, while Madison let loose with outbursts of inflamed tension, screaming with anguish. 

But my remembrances of Madison at the Celebrity Lounge with Johnson are of a man who was completely at ease blending into the background, again somewhat remote, arched over his instrument with an expression of a downcast demeanor, that is, until he would let loose with one of his fiery solos; it was as if the relief he experienced during his moment in the limelight ignited an erupting blues guitar passion in him that needed to flow.

So, it is with these recollections of Pee Wee Madison that I’ve decided to devote a bit of space to him in examining what is known about this prototypical blues marvel, someone whose career was for the most part shrouded in the shadows.

Born in early April, 1930 in Osceola, Arkansas, a city nearby the Mississippi River in Mississippi County in the state’s upper northeast, Madison’s legal first name was James.  This is where it gets very difficult for blues researchers because there is simply not much know about Madison’s early years, or how he came to choose the guitar and the blues as his life’s choices. 

What is known is that Madison emulated the music of Chicago blues titan Little Walter and practiced to his music, and in the 1950s he landed a spot in Walter’s band.  By this time, Madison had made his move north to Chicago.

Madison’s big blues music break came in 1963 when Pate Hare, the guitarist in Muddy Waters band was arrested, tried, and convicted for killing his girlfriend and subsequently sent to prison.  Waters knew of Madison’s broad blues guitar competencies, and offered him the opportunity to replace Hare.  And so began a long association with Waters’ crew. 

Madison’s importance to Waters’ recording efforts cannot be understated.  From Waters’ singles in 1964 until 1973’s Can’t Get No Grindin’ LP, Madison occupied a space on virtually all of Waters’ recorded output, first starting with rhythm work, and progressing later to lead efforts, as well. 

Madison’s guitar of choice was a Fender Mustang that he played upside down; think of how Otis Rush approached his playing.  And while stated earlier that Madison’s solos could sting with sizzling outcries, Madison was known with Waters as much for his sturdy rhythm work. 

During the period that Madison was with Waters, the doors were being opened to young Caucasian enthusiasts the music who flocked to Waters’ shows.  As a result, Madison became well-known to these audiences, more so than Hare ever was, and became rightfully associated as an integral member of Waters’ tight band.  The paradox with this, though, is that the two LPs that sought to make Waters better known with the increasing young Caucasian blues audience, 1968’s Electric Mud and 1969’s Fathers And Sons, Madison was not a contributor on either one.  

While on a Waters tour in late October, 1969, the band were involved in a terrible vehicle accident in Illinois that killed the two occupants of the vehicle that collided with Waters and his group.  Due to this accident, Madison sustained injuries that hospitalized him for a couple of days.

By 1973, Madison was ready to come off the road and he decided to leave Waters’ band.  This decision came at the end of a grueling long world tour.  As such, Madison found himself back in Chicago playing club dates backing others.

In the later 1970s’, Madison joined forces for a bit with L.C. “Good Rockin’” Robinson’s band, and again, had a large part of Mojo Buford’s project Mojo Buford’s Chicago Blues Summit.  At this point, Madison began what became a couple decade period of primarily performing in south side Chicago blues venues, though his work with certain of his headliners did carry him into the clubs on the city’s north side blues scene.  Madison continued to provide searing, enflamed, and fierce solos when called upon, having not lost one iota of his ability to turn one of his turns in the limelight into an exploding sonic occurrence.

Madison also recorded with various blues artists including Otis Spann and Billy Flynn, and if one is interested in his output, a little research will easily direct the curious to his work with Waters, Spann, Flynn, and others.

The tragedy is Madison’s life is the classical blues story: The obscure, yet extremely gifted artist who forever fashioned and occupied a career on the blues’ periphery.  All I know is that when I beheld Madison’s considerable capacity first-hand, I knew that I was in the presence of magnificence.  Man, did Madison deserve so much more than what the blues world gave him.

Madison passed away on July 1, 2008 in Chicago.