# Big Joe Turner’s roar could rattle the very foundation of any gin joint he sang within

- Link: https://jazzblues.eu/2017/09/04/big-joe-turners-roar-rattle-foundation-gin-joint-sang-within/
- Published: 2017-09-04T12:01:29+01:00
- Author: https://JazzBlues.EU

**The premier blues shouter of the postwar era, Big Joe Turner’s roar could rattle
the very foundation of any gin joint he sang within — and that’s without a microphone.
Turner was a resilient figure in the history of blues — he effortlessly spanned 
boogie-woogie, jump blues, even the first wave of rock & roll, enjoying great success
in each genre.**

Turner, whose powerful physique certainly matched his vocal might, was a product
of the swinging, wide-open Kansas City scene. Even in his teens, the big-boned Turner
looked entirely mature enough to gain entry to various K.C. niteries. He ended up
simultaneously tending bar and singing the blues before hooking up with boogie piano
master Pete Johnson during the early ’30s. Theirs was a partnership that would endure
for 13 years.

The pair initially traveled to New York at John Hammond’s behest in 1936. On December
23, 1938, they appeared on the fabled Spirituals to Swing concert at Carnegie Hall
on a bill with Big Bill Broonzy, Sonny Terry, the Golden Gate Quartet, and Count
Basie. Turner and Johnson performed “Low Down Dog” and “It’s All Right, Baby” on
the historic show, kicking off a boogie-woogie craze that landed them a long-running
slot at the Cafe Society (along with piano giants Meade Lux Lewis and Albert Ammons).

As 1938 came to a close, Turner and Johnson waxed the thundering “Roll ‘Em Pete”
for Vocalion. It was a thrilling up-tempo number anchored by Johnson’s crashing 
88s, and Turner would re-record it many times over the decades. Turner and Johnson
waxed their seminal blues “Cherry Red” the next year for Vocalion with trumpeter
Hot Lips Page and a full combo in support. In 1940, the massive shouter moved over
to Decca and cut “Piney Brown Blues” with Johnson rippling the ivories. But not 
all of Turner’s Decca sides teamed him with Johnson; Willie “The Lion” Smith accompanied
him on the mournful “Careless Love,” while Freddie Slack’s Trio provided backing
for “Rocks in My Bed” in 1941.

Turner ventured out to the West Coast during the war years, building quite a following
while ensconced on the L.A. circuit. In 1945, he signed on with National Records
and cut some fine small combo platters under Herb Abramson’s supervision. Turner
remained with National through 1947, belting an exuberant “My Gal’s a Jockey” that
became his first national R&B smash. Contracts didn’t stop him from waxing an incredibly
risqué two-part “Around the Clock” for the aptly named Stag imprint (as Big Vernon!)
in 1947. There were also solid sessions for Aladdin that year that included a wild
vocal duel with one of Turner’s principal rivals, Wynonie Harris, on the ribald 
two-part “Battle of the Blues.”

Few West Coast indie labels of the late ’40s didn’t boast at least one or two Turner
titles in their catalogs. The shouter bounced from RPM to Down Beat/Swing Time to
MGM (all those dates were anchored by Johnson’s piano) to Texas-based Freedom (which
moved some of their masters to Specialty) to Imperial in 1950 (his New Orleans backing
crew there included a young Fats Domino on piano). But apart from the 1950 Freedom
78, “Still in the Dark,” none of Turner’s records were selling particularly well.
When Atlantic Records bosses Abramson and Ahmet Ertegun fortuitously dropped by 
the Apollo Theater to check out Count Basie’s band one day, they discovered that
Turner had temporarily replaced Jimmy Rushing as the Basie band’s frontman, and 
he was having a tough go of it. Atlantic picked up his spirits by picking up his
recording contract, and Turner’s heyday was about to commence.

At Turner’s first Atlantic date in April of 1951, he imparted a gorgeously world-
weary reading to the moving blues ballad “Chains of Love” (co-penned by Ertegun 
and pianist Harry Van Walls) that restored him to the uppermost reaches of the R&
B charts. From there, the hits came in droves: “Chill Is On,” “Sweet Sixteen” (yeah,
the same downbeat blues B.B. King’s usually associated with; Turner did it first),
and “Don’t You Cry” were all done in New York, and all hit big.

Turner had no problem whatsoever adapting his prodigious pipes to whatever regional
setting he was in. In 1953, he cut his first R&B chart-topper, the storming rocker“
Honey Hush” (later covered by Johnny Burnette and Jerry Lee Lewis), in New Orleans,
with trombonist Pluma Davis and tenor saxman Lee Allen in rip-roaring support. Before
the year was through, he stopped off in Chicago to record with slide guitarist Elmore
James’ considerably rougher-edged combo and hit again with the salacious “T.V. Mama.”

Prolific Atlantic house writer Jesse Stone was the source of Turner’s biggest smash
of all, “Shake, Rattle and Roll,” which proved his second chart-topper in 1954. 
With the Atlantic braintrust reportedly chiming in on the chorus behind Turner’s
rumbling lead, the song sported enough pop possibilities to merit a considerably
cleaned-up cover by Bill Haley & the Comets (and a subsequent version by Elvis Presley
that came a lot closer to the original leering intent).

Suddenly, at the age of 43, Turner was a rock star. His jumping follow-ups — “Well
All Right,” “Flip Flop and Fly,” “Hide and Seek,” “Morning, Noon and Night,” “The
Chicken and the Hawk” — all mined the same good-time groove as “Shake, Rattle and
Roll,” with crisp backing from New York’s top session aces and typically superb 
production by Ertegun and Jerry Wexler.

Turner turned up on a couple episodes of the groundbreaking TV program Showtime 
at the Apollo during the mid-’50s, commanding center stage with a joyous rendition
of “Shake, Rattle and Roll” in front of saxman Paul “Hucklebuck” Williams’ band.
Nor was the silver screen immune to his considerable charms: Turner mimed a couple
of numbers in the 1957 film Shake Rattle & Rock (Fats Domino and Mike “Mannix” Connors
also starred in the flick).

Updating the pre-war number “Corrine Corrina” was an inspired notion that provided
Turner with another massive seller in 1956. But after the two-sided hit “Rock a 
While”/”Lipstick Powder and Paint” later that year, his Atlantic output swiftly 
faded from commercial acceptance. Atlantic’s recording strategy wisely involved 
recording Turner in a jazzier setting for the adult-oriented album market; to that
end, a Kansas City-styled set (with his former partner Johnson at the piano stool)
was laid down in 1956 and remains a linchpin of his legacy.

Turner stayed on at Atlantic into 1959, but nobody bought his violin-enriched remake
of “Chains of Love” (on the other hand, a revival of “Honey Hush” with King Curtis
blowing a scorching sax break from the same session was a gem in its own right).
The ’60s didn’t produce too much of lasting substance for the shouter — he actually
cut an album with longtime admirer Haley and his latest batch of Comets in Mexico
City in 1966!

But by the tail end of the decade, Turner’s essential contributions to blues history
were beginning to receive proper recognition; he cut LPs for BluesWay and Blues 
Time. During the ’70s and ’80s, Turner recorded prolifically for Norman Granz’s 
jazz-oriented Pablo label. These were super-relaxed impromptu sessions that often
paired the allegedly illiterate shouter with various jazz luminaries in what amounted
to loosely run jam sessions. Turner contentedly roared the familiar lyrics of one
or another of his hits, then sat back while somebody took a lengthy solo. Other 
notable album projects included a 1983 collaboration with Roomful of Blues, Blues
Train, for Muse. Although health problems and the size of his humongous frame forced
him to sit down during his latter-day performances, Turner continued to tour until
shortly before his death in 1985. They called him the Boss of the Blues, and the
appellation was truly a fitting one: when Turner shouted a lyric, you were definitely
at his beck and call.

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