Pulling up to The Livery in Benton Harbor, Michigan one Saturday night, my anticipation was high as Little Frank & the Premiers were to play a show, and with the individual and collective talent the group included, this was sure to be an evening of superb blues, rockabilly, soul, and early rock-n-roll. 

First, the band’s namesake and leader, Little Frank Krakowski, whose guitar proficiencies were part-and-parcel of his early teen youth when he was prowling Chicago’s south and west side blues joints seeking the city’s then-living legends who were still plying their trade, brought genuine excitement to any of the group’s outings.  Early on, through sitting-in with these blues masters, his career offered him the opportunities to tour, perform, and record with bluesmen such as Hubert Sumlin, Kim Wilson, Willie “Big Eyes” Smith, Little Arthur Duncan, Paul Oscher, Martin Lang, R.J. Mischo, Lazy Lester, Pinetop Perkins, and so many others that space here prohibits their mentioning.  Little Frank’s guitar style was continually evolving, with his incorporation of slide guitar flairs such as those of Earl Hooker, and the “big box” sounds of the west coast school of guitar, all making his playing something not to miss.

Tom Moore, the South Bend, Indiana native who honed his formidable vocal and harmonica chops immersed in the early 1980s San Diego blues scene was the Premiers’ front man, and the lessons he learned from playing with the likes of, and learning firsthand from, James Harman, Hollywood Fats, Big Mama Thornton, Blonde Bruce, Lowell Fulson, and with his band The Five Careless Lovers ensured that strong singing and big and varied harmonica sounds would be on tap.

Brad Ber, the upright bass man with more talent than any artist should possess, was to hold down the low-end with his equally thrilling knack of constant motion while playing, seemingly dancing with his instrument, slapping the strings and tapping it in rhythmic cadence to the song-at-hand.  His was a show unto himself.

And rounding out the night’s band lineup was the one and only Bob Carter.  And please understand, there was only, and will only ever be, one Bob Carter.  How God Almighty packed Carter with so much sterling talent, I, and everyone else that ever knew him, will never know.

On this particular evening, while sitting and enjoying a drink before showtime, the room suddenly lit up with Carter’s arrival.  He and his woman were in the house, and it was akin to a light switch being turned upward, a glow filling the room.  When seeing me, Carter, in his gravelly voice, indicated that he had something special he picked up just for me at a yard sale on the way to the show.  Carter retreated outside to his long station wagon and returned, and excitedly gifted me a Boots Randolph album he had acquired.  He leaned in close, his hand on my shoulder and his eyes fixed intently into mine, making me feel as though I were the only person in the busy room, as giddy as a little boy about the musical jewel he found.  It was a moment that I will never forget.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Carter lately, as I often do, and outside of my solitary reflections of him have come exchanges with others about their remembrances of him.  Though not known to many outside of those “in the know,” a brief profile of Carter is long overdue. 

First, let me say this about Carter.  The man was something of a Bohemian.  He was most definitely unconventional.  The arts (music) were his life.  He cut a handsome swath with his natty modes of attire, often making a gig in a full suit complete with a coat, slacks, vest, wingtip shoes, and tie.  Oftentimes he had his long hair pulled back into a rakish ponytail.  Even when Carter enjoyed a cigarette or a beverage, there were panaches in the ways he did so. 

A conversation with Carter was always a thrill.  It could start here, go there, and end way over there!  He truly engaged with whoever was in his immediate midst, and to be in that rarified air in the moments of conversation with Carter was a bluster of stream-of-consciousness.  But it was always enthralling, and again, one-on-one with Carter was just that; he made you the focus in those instances.  Carter’s engagement with those in his world was warm, sincere, and all encompassing.

Carter’s skill set was astounding.  I can remember back in 2007 being in a small venue in Lydick, Indiana on a very snowy NYE when Carter was playing his trade for a full house with Little Frank & the Premiers.  While others in the band pre-showtime were making the rounds of the site’s tables welcoming the night’s revelers, perhaps also enjoying a libation, I found Carter hidden toward the rear of the place, back by the restrooms, studiously and resolutely going through a pre-show ritual of wrist and hand exercises he engaged in to warm-up before a show.  He told me these drills had served him well from the time he was a young drumming student, and he continued to rely upon them as a means to ensure that he provided the best possible performance he could.  Such was Carter’s dedication to his craft.

Carter on-stage was a true, and I mean true, master class of musical devotion.  I never saw him “phone in” a performance.  Resplendent behind his drum kit, Carter’s each percussive stroke was done with the most idyllic touch and attention to technique conceivable.  Always in tune with what the band was playing and where in a song the group was, be it while the front person was singing, or perhaps an instrumentalist was soloing, he always applied just the proper and perfect percussive pattern, done so with the most ideal of contact upon his drums and cymbals.

Carter’s audiences enjoyed his phenomenal vocal dexterities.  When called upon to sing a song, he would, with conviction, put that grand, raspy, and weathered voice of his to its always-highest utilization, carefully and with sincerity crooning the tune, all the while never neglecting his percussion duties.  They never suffered when he sang.  Carter was a study of dogged determination and professionalism when he stepped out-front vocally.

And when called upon for harmonizing, well, there was none better than Carter.  Many a time audiences were left dumbstruck after he injected brilliant harmonious counterpoints to whoever was singing lead.  It was yet another aspect of his chosen path in which Cater excelled; another grand expertise amongst so many responsibilities he excelled at over the course of his fabled career.

I’m not going to go into Carter’s earliest formative years, though I have numerous photos of a very young man whose passion for percussion was obvious given the outward displays of frenetic energy the pictures highlight.  And by the way, to a one, there’s Carter, from a young age, always “dressed to the nines.” 

And the blues and related genres were not the only that tugged at Carter’s heels.  Some may remember him cutting a latter-day Chess Records single with the band The Durty Wurds, a Chicago group that laid-down what has become a very collectible 45rpm entitled “Why,” a punk workout of the highest echelon.  If you are able to find this record, contact me, please, as I have long sought a copy.

To Carter’s meat and potatoes on the Chicago music scene, he is best and fondly remembered for his work in the jazz, jump blues, R&B, and blues arenas.  He applied his broad musical skill set to numerous Delmark Records sessions by various artists, including the titanic Otis Rush and piano giant Sunnyland Slim.  In 1985, Carter played drums on a release by Studebaker John & The Hawks entitled Rockin’ The Blues on the Avanti label, to name only a few of the works Carter was involved with over the years.  He also played gigs was countless bands, including, for example, The Fabulous Fish Heads.

Carter is most reverently remembered as a founding member in 1995, along with bassist Jimmy Sutton, guitarist Gareth Best, piano player Donny Nichilo, and saxophone players Jerry DeVivo and Sam Burckhardt, of the wildly popular and influential Chicago-based jump blues band The Mighty Blue Kings.  To say that this group could swing is a tremendously meager statement of the joy, impassioned playing, and thrills the group brought forth.  Were they “retro?”  Yes, but not in any manner as to be cited as uninventive or just copying a genre.  These guys, on any stage anywhere, brought “the sauce,” and there in the middle of the mania was Carter.  His vast percussive jazz stylings added so immensely to the band’s swing style. 

The group, if I recall correctly, played their inaugural show at the first incarnation of Buddy Guy’s Legends in Chicago’s South Loop area, and for a long time afterwards, held down a regular slot at the city’s famous Uptown area club, The Green Mill.  For a couple of years, with Carter as a band member, The Mighty Blue Kings absolutely were the band to get out and see; they ruled the musical landscape in Chicago.  The band also did extensive touring outside of Chicago.

The Mighty Blue Kings, with Carter, recorded Meet Me In Uptown, a 14-song celebration that was released in 1996 on the R-Jay Records label, and there in the middle of the jump euphoria was Carter with his prolific percussion frameworks immeasurably adding texture and substance to each tune.

The group did go on to more recording, but by that time, Carter had departed the band.

Carter stayed mostly in the blues vein going forward, and he recorded with various artists and bands including Studebaker John & The Hawks on their 1995 Blind Pig Records outing entitled Outside Lookin’ In, Liz Mandville Greeson on her 1996 Earwig Music release Look At Me, and with Nick Moss And The Flip Tops on the Blue Bella Records release Play It “Til Tomorrow, a 2007 offering.  Carter also toured extensively with Moss and his band.

In later years, Carter chose primarily to play with Little Frank & the Premiers, and their early incarnation of Little Frank, Tom Moore, bassist Brian Cook, and Carter was a regional favorite.  The group’s broad repertoire was a hit with clubgoers everywhere, and anytime the band came out to play, a great time was had.

I know the guys from the Little Frank & the Premiers assemblage well, and there are many stories of times spent with Carter that space here prohibits me from sharing.  But to a bandmate, all the group’s members highly sing the praises of Carter’s cosmic musical intellect.  And just as importantly, they joyously reflect upon a very unique and colorful individual who regaled all he knew and met with an infectious exultant manner.

May, 2012 brough a very difficult reality for Carter and those that so deeply cared about him.  He was suffering with cancer, and the prognosis was not at all good.  I reached out to Carter in both February and April with my thoughts of him, and I heard back from him in February.  He was stoic, but I could tell it would be the last time I heard from him.  He passed away in May, 2012.

Carter was an astonishing percussionist and vocalist, highly influential, and a yardstick for others to measure themselves against.  Moreover, Carter was a true character in all the right ways, a joyous feast of a man with that broad smile and childlike enthusiasm for life.  When Carter left us, all considered how they treasured the man and sterling musical artist he was.  The blues world, and the world in general, was a vastly better place with Carter in it.