Our search For the big beat led us to John Lee Hooker's house in Redwood City, California. At 72, Mr. Hooker can proudly look back on a career that began in Clarksdale, Mississippi, during the 1930s. Unlike his contemporaries Muddy Waters and Robert Johnson, Hook didn't play roll-and-tumble Delta jukes, choosing instead to launch his career in Memphis, singing gospel and blues. He moved to Detroit after World War II to work by day in an auto plant and make the rounds of Black Bottom clubs by night.
Nineteen-forty-eight's "Boogie Chillen'," his first R&B hit, inaugurated the most prolific recording career in postwar blues history. (It's estimated that between 1949 and '53 alone, Hooker cut some 70 singles on 24 different labels, using a dozen different names to avoid contractual problems.) Other big R&B hits followed: "Crawlin' King Snake" in '49, "I'm in the Mood" in '51 and "Dimples" in '56.
Hooker made his first foray into Europe in '62 and returned to find that "Boom Boom" had become his first crossover hit. Covers by the Animals and other British Invasion bands helped him win white audiences at home. Since then, Mr. Hooker has moved to California, recorded armloads of albums, and associated with some of the most respected names in rock and blues.
As it was in the beginning, so it is today: The very heartbeat of John Lee Hooker's music remains his unique songwriting, powerful voice and down-home, propulsive guitar. Like Muddy Waters, Lightnin' Hopkins, and very few others, he remains a musical law unto himself, still specializing in the sparse blues and infectious boogies that first rocked the globe more than 40 years ago. As Miles Davis expressed it after a 1990 session, "John Lee, you the funkiest man alive. You sound like you buried up to your neck in mud!"
Mr. Hooker received us graciously, sat us on his couch and tuned his electric guitar to open A. He quickly launched into an instrumental version of "Boogie Chillen'," each foot tapping to a different beat.
Watching you play "Boogie Chillen’” close up, it seems like what you're doing is very simple, and yet it's very difficult for others to get it right.
For me, it's simple, but.... [laughs]
That was one of the first songs you recorded.
Uh-huh.
Did you write it when you were a young man in Mississippi?
[nods]
How are you counting time with your feet?
[laughs] I couldn't tell you. It just boogie. Just go on with it. I don't need drums.
You often played that way in Detroit, using your feet instead of a rhythm section.
Yeah. That first come from my stepfather, Will Moore, from whom I learnt to play when I was 13. John Hammond do it too.
Do you usually keep your guitars tuned to a chord?
Not really. But I use open tuning. "Boogie Chillen'," that's in open A. For "Boom Boom," I got to rekey [retune] it. [Rich Kirch, John's backup guitarist, details: "John plays almost everything in open E, except to boogie, when he usually tunes three strings up so he's in open A.]
What do you look for in a tone?
I look for a deep, gutty feelin'. I don't use picks, so I can get that deep gut feelin'. People ask, "How you get that?" It's just there. There's a lot of people try to play real fast chords — do do do do da — that's not the blues. It's synthetic. It ain't the hard, solid blues. It's a lot of speed and everything. It's got no feeling to it. You sit down and play some [whispers] funky, funky guitar. Take your time! Don't rush it. Just let it come flowin' through you. I can play guitar so funky until it bring teardrops to your eyes. It got that funky funky tone. I'm just me.
While most musicians stick to 12-bar blues, you seldom follow that format.
That's for the birds. People just feel — that's the way the blues supposed to be played. The way you feel those notes or scales. Shut your eyes, and then you'll know what you're doing. I know what notes to hit. I know what notes not to hit.
I can do a 12-bar perfect— perfect. Oh, yeah. If I did then, I wouldn't be known for John Lee Hooker. See, I'm known for not doing it. When I'm just playing to myself I do it: 8, 12, 4, 16, 24. But ordinarily I don't do it, because it would take away a lot of my feelin'.
You cannot learn this in a book. You feel it here [points to heart and head], not by what you got writing on a piece of paper. Throw that paper away! When I walk into a studio, I don't need all that stuff. I can go into a studio and in two hours' time I can record five or six songs. Sometimes it take some people three or four weeks to record one or two songs!
Sometimes it takes a band years to make one album.
[laughs] Yeah! It do! I can make 10 albums in a year, and they come out perfect too.
Can you make up songs on the spot?
Yeah. They're on the spot. I get that good feelin'. But one thing I don't like — what really bugs me — is anybody tellin' me how to play. What to do and how to do. Don't do that.
Has that been a problem on your recent Chameleon and Charisma albums, since so many of the songs feature guest bands? When you recorded with Santana, for instance, you were working in a pretty straight format.
Heavy duty. We get together on it. They know how I do it. With "The Healer" we did two takes—it come out perfect. "Stripped Me Naked." [laughs]
What were you thinking when you wrote that?
Well, I got stripped naked once. She took the house, the Cadillac. And the money in the bank—she took that too.
Did Carlos come to you with the music for that song?
He come to the house, and we set around. Like, he talked and we go with things. Just me and him. I go to his house, we lay the foundation, and then he pass it on to the guys. And it come out perfect every time. "Stripped Me Naked," that took just about two takes.
Have your recent albums had a big impact on your career?
Very, very big impact, because it was all-stars. But this one I got comin' out now, I'm not gonna have all-star everyone — just me and my band and some local people. Carlos will probably be on it. We already got a thing called "Chill Out" on the shelf, so we'll probably use that.
I'm in the studio now workin', gettin' some pretty good stuff. A lot of the stuff I did a long, long time ago, which is new to the kids now. Some of my classic stuff, but the kids never heard it, so I'm doing it over. I always did want to do it that way. Now that I got a chance, I'm gonna do a lot of it all over, like "Sugar Mama," "Boom Boom," "Dimples."
Those songs turned a generation of kids on to your music during the 1960s.
That "Boom Boom," that "Dimples" — turned a whole generation. It went to Europe and told Europe, and then come back here and turned the whole universe on. Then different artists took to doing that song, "Boom Boom" — Bruce Springsteen, all them. Big Joe Turner, he was do" Dimples."
Is it a compliment when people by to play like you?
Yeah, it is. Because I know I'm doing something to be loved. If he didn't like it, he wouldn't try to do it! So it's very complimentary to me.
Some guys feel very protective . . .
Not me. I love people that do my stuff. Robert Plant, he did "Dimples." He sing it all the time. He's one of my favorite people. Nice guy. Every time he come over, he try to look me up. He flew me out to New York once to meet him. Paid for my hotel and everything. Had a lady with him called Big Maggie Bell, from Scotland. Met her.
But my hero is Bonnie. Me and her just like this [holds two fingers together] I guess you know that. We real close. I've known Bonnie Raitt over the years, and I'm a guest on her tour in L.A.
A lot of your old material has recently come out on CD.
Yeah, you know they comin' out now because we're doin' big things. They just throwin' out everything now—boom. Rhino Records did one.
That has many great tracks, but it's missing "Mad Man Blues."
Yeah. Ohhh, I love the "Mad Man Blues." [Claps time and sings "I love the Mad Man Blues" and "I'm gonna kill somebody" to the original melody.]
Do you play blues when you're alone?
Yeah, around the house I do. Yeah. Sit down in my room and just go with things I want to do, some of that old stuff that I'm trying to revive again and bring back.
Do you work on your own guitars?
No. The little light stuff I do, like adjusting the bridges and raising the saddles. You get beyond that, no.
Why do you play semi-hollowbody guitars?
Well, I like 'em. You got to do that now because the generations come and go, and the young generation, they like to dance and they want it loud. But you still can make it funky loud.
You could play a Fender
I could, but I don't want to. I'm plainspoken, and I don't want that. This is what I like. You don't got to bring me around the bridge. This is what I like — boom. I like the tone. I always did like Gibson. Even the old style, I did.
Why do you have a guitar with B.B. King's name on it?
I saw it, and I went and bought it. He's a old buddy of mine. I said [to the salesman], "Give me that one." He give me a price — he said, "It's a lot of money" I said, "I don't care! Just give it to me." He said, "Who are you?" I said, "I'm John Lee." He said, "Oooh," and he come down on the price when he found out who I was. I was signing stuff in his store.
What's the greatest amplifier?
I know who got the greatest name — Fender. I got one sittin' right there [points to an old Concert]. I got another one back there, man, a Bedrock — boy, that thing is powerful! Whoo. It's not famous, but oh, it's powerful.
But Fender is a brand name, and it's the name that sells, and that's what people go for. How do you set the amp controls? Different songs, different settings. I don't like it real sharp. I like it kind of medium. Not too much bass, not too much sharp. I get different settings.
Do you like reverb?
Not really. On some of my new stuff I did. About two weeks ago, I got reverb on a couple of my really funky tunes, like "Sugar Mama." Carlos Santana says a man's tone is his face. He know. Albert Collins' tone, for instance, is spiky and sharp. It is. Oh, it's a thousand miles apart from mine. It's good, but it's his thing. You talkin' in a different world.
Do you like B.B.'s tone?
Whoo! Yeah! Are you kiddin’? Oh, yeah. My old buddy. And Albert King is funky. That old man is funky! He put that pipe in his mouth and rear his head back. He's a good man, and he gonna do things his way or no way! [laughs] He be workin' on his own bus right now.
You've used some of the same backup musicians for many years now.
Oh, yeah. My guitar player Rich is nice, nice. Whoo, he's a good guy! Boy, that guy loves me and I love him. I'm the one that brought him to California. He'd been in Chicago all his life. I been knowin' him about 12 years along. I got the guy a ticket, brought him out — he been with me ever since. I talk to him every day. He's a heck of a nice guy and good guitar player. Jim Gayette — oh, he is funky! He's a funky bass player, and funny too. He keep the band laughin' all night.
When you were starting out, would you play for a long time at night?
Before I become famous? When I was a kid? If my parents would let me I would. You hear about guys playing in Delta juke joints from nightfall until morning. No, I didn't do that. No. I would've, but I didn't. [laughs]
What was Hastings Street like when you first came to Detroit?
That was the best street in town. Everything you wanted was right there. Everything you didn't want was right there. It ain't no more now. It's a freeway now, called Chrysler Freeway. But that was a good street, a street known all over the world.
But I didn't just play on Hastings — I'd play any club on Russell, Chene, Jefferson. In them days, I was so into my music, but I had to work to survive. I was a janitor [in the Ford Rouge plant]. I pushed a broom.
What do you remember of your sessions at United Sound Studio in Detroit?
On West Grand Boulevard and Second? Still there. I would always use my amp, just plug into my old funky amps. It was Ampeg or a Silvertone.
Was your first electric guitar the Les Paul you're seen with in some of the early pictures?
Really, it was. Really good one. Before that I had some round-hole pickups [for amplifying an acoustic guitar]. No, T-Bone Walker give me my first electric guitar. Then I thought that was the best I ever seen. It was a Epiphone [archtop].
Did you use an acoustic for early sides like “Mad Man Blues"?
Yeah, that's acoustic. I had an old Stella with a pickup called DeArmond, and it fit across the round hole. You slide it in. I thought at that time it was a great, great sound.
Was Newport '63 your first big concert?
Never been so scared! My first big concert, yeah. Couldn't get my body to stop shaking!
You appeared with Muddy Waters there.
Yeah. I was good friends with Muddy.
Do you have any favorite memories of him?
Yeah, I do. I got so many I couldn't tell 'em all. He'd come to Detroit, he used to stay at my house. I had a big house in Detroit. Matter of fact, I own property there now. He never would stay in a hotel. Him and Jenny, his wife, would stay at my house. Little Walter would be with him. He was a sideman then, one of the greatest harmonica players ever lived. I think so. We would go on tour together sometimes, me and him and Little Walter,
Jimmy Rogers. Remember Jimmy Rogers? He had this old Oldsmobile, brand-new. And Little Walter was crazy, and he used to drive. Speedin' in it. He'd be boogeyinl And he'd be laughing 'cause I'd be nervous. Just a lot of good remembrances. Things I cannot ever forget. Muddy was a really good man. And he was just beginnin' to come into it really on, like I am now. Just beginnin' to climb up the ladder really high.
His last four albums were terrific.
They was. He was beginnin' to climb up to the top, and it's a hard climb. But, you know, you get there somehow. Some get there and some don't. I be one of the few giants at the top of the ladder. In my travelin' and living in God's world, I love people. My heart go out for people. I'm just a softie. I just give my heart to people, and how can I say no to the people that I know I should? I don't like hurting people.
We all like money, don't get me wrong, but it's not the greatest thing in the world, but we have to have it. Friendship, love, peace of mind, and health is the greatest thing in the world. You have to have money to survive, but — and a lot of us do — we can't let money get in the way of friendship and love and the people that put you where you at today. People put me where I'm at today. Weren't for those people, John Lee wouldn't be sittin' on top of the ladder. I'd be sitting down below.
And who put me there? The workin' people, the poor people go out and work five or six days a week, and come out to see me and go out and buy my albums, and stuff like that. Young kids. Old people. Them the people that got me there. Some stars seem to forget — well, they don't forget, but when you get to the high, they say you forget the people that blazed the path for them, the people that put them there. Wasn't no people, you wouldn't be there.
So them the people I love. I love to go in them little small clubs, funky bars, get up there singing. I walk into a lot of little clubs, and they surprised to see me in there. Say, "What're you doing in here?" And I say "I'm just like you. I'm here to have some fun and get down with you." I don't think about I'm a big star, or I got money. I don't think about that. I'm out there at a place I like, get down and have a beer with you. I don't look at me being a big star. I really don't. I really don't.
Did you ever see Elmore James?
Once. I was in Chicago. I went to the hotel where we sit there and talk. He was a nice man. A lot of people copied him too. Lot of people.
Out of the younger generation of the blues singers, who was my pride and joy? Stevie Ray. I know that kid — I used to go around Austin, Texas, before didn't anybody know about Stevie Ray and Jimmie [Vaughan]. Every time I go there, he sit in and play. We used to talk. He used to come to the dressing room, come to my hotel room. Those days he used to wear a cap. To me, he was one of the greatest young blues singers. He could do anybody, probably — Albert King, Jimi Hendrix — do anybody's thing.
George Benson. He played jazz. I sit down and watch him do that. He had his own style — he did, definitely — but he could play anything else anybody could play. He'd say, "I'm gonna play you now," and he play me. And if he can play me, he can play anybody!
Who's come closest to playing like you?
Let's see. Eddie Taylor is real close. He can do it. Buddy Guy pretty close. He can play "Boogie Chillen" real good. He plays it on every show. Buddy Guy is playin' so well, and I'm so happy for him. He gettin' a lot of recognition that he should have had a long time ago, like us all should have got. He's such a beautiful person.
Do you admire John Hammond's playing?
Whoo! Who don't? Me and him together over the years a lot too. Now, he can play like me! [laughs] Yeah, he can. He say, "I'm gonna play like you now, just like you," and then he goes to playin' it and starts laughin’. I say, "If you was outside and you walkin' up, you think it's me in here playin'." He's a really nice gentleman. He's another easygoing person too. He love people. He's a softie. He talk to me about it a lot. We sit down together [imitates Hammond's voice]: "John, you know, you love people. We let 'em get away with things we shouldn't, but we don't want to hurt them." That's the way he talk. I said, "They think John Lee don't know any better, but I do. I just love people." You help people. You take 'em in. It all come back to you.
Perhaps the measure of a truly great man is how he treats people day in and day out.
Right! The little things in life, the love. I always believe in "it comes back to you if you do something good." I was taught that, and I think it do too. You do good deeds, somewhere in life it's gonna come back. You can do wrong so long, you gonna get it in some kind of way. That's my belief.
So I'm happy with my life. I had a good life, and I had a rough life — I've had both. I don't try to live in the past. I can't bring back those little things. I can't change the rough things that come through, so I look for the future. You can't live in the past — a lot of people try to live in a memory I live for today and for people today. This is a different world. This world changes all the time.
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