Leroy Carr, along with Tampa Red, dominated the urban blues scene in the s while playing a more sophisticated form of the Blues than those that hailed from the Delta. Prior to World War 2 numerous covers of the song were released, including versions by Lead Belly, and Kokomo Arnold, while both Pete Johnson and Jimmy Yancey did instrumental piano versions and in Count Basie and his Orchestra covered it too.
As the 60s moved on Hot Tuna, the Jefferson Airplane off shoot covered it, which given their love of the blues is none too surprising. By way of contrast, Dinah Washington also did her version in , a nice juxtaposition on how two of the greatest women jazz singers tackle the blues. As a footnote, on 29 April , two months after Leroy Carr had recorded 8 sides for Bluebird; he died in Indianapolis of acute alcoholism.
Thousands of mourners visited the funeral home to pay their respects to the year-old singer. Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Please log in, or sign up for a new account to continue reading. Thank you for reading! On your next view you will be asked to log in to your subscriber account or create an account and subscribe purchase a subscription to continue reading. Would you believe me if I told you that one of the most influential songs of 20th century popular music was recorded in Indianapolis?
Would you be surprised to learn that although the song remains largely forgotten by the public, it's been performed by iconic music superstars like Eric Clapton, The Grateful Dead, Count Basie and Ray Charles?
Exactly 86 years ago this week on June 19, a pair of pioneering Indianapolis bluesmen entered a local recording studio to cut a tune that would permanently change the evolution of American popular music. While the differences may seem subtle to listeners today, Carr and Blackwell's debut recording sounded like nothing else when it hit the market in In an era dominated by rural country blues and vaudevillian hokum, Carr and Blackwell's creation was modern and hip.
Innovative new microphones and recording devices created room for more expressive vocalizations, which meant singers no longer had to shout to project their voices in the manner of Carr's hollering blues contemporaries like Charley Patton and Bessie Smith.
The record's release marked a watershed moment in American music, sparking a widespread transition towards a more urban approach to music-making. The influence "How Long, How Long Blues" exerted on a generation of musicians in the late '20s and early '30s could roughly be compared to the impact of Elvis Presley's early Sun sessions in the '50s, or the effect of Sugarhill Gang's "Rapper's Delight" on pop music of the '80s.
So if "How Long, How Long Blues" holds such an important position in popular music, why does its significance remain largely unknown to the general listening public? I think there's two major reasons for this discrepancy, both of which involve Carr and Blackwell's legacy clashing with the established doctrine of blues history.
Most blues scholars assert the genre was primarily a Southern phenomenon, until the '40s when artists like Muddy Waters emigrated north to find work in the industrial capitals of Chicago and Detroit. The appearance of Indianapolis as a focal point during an early stage of the blues timeline represents an inconvenient aberration for simplified versions of the music's history.
And Carr and Blackwell's smooth, urban sound was at odds with the taste of many important blues historians who preferred their early blues music raw and primitive.
So while Delta blues masters like Skip James and Son House were canonized in blues history, Carr and Blackwell were often relegated to the fringes, despite their obvious importance. But those explanations don't account for the lack of appreciation the duo's achievements have received in their hometown.
There are no historical markers identifying the location where " How Long, How Long Blues " was recorded. There are no statues, or murals of Carr and Blackwell to be found in Indy either.
In fact, there's little evidence to note their existence here at all. Indianapolis has allowed the history of its African American music visionaries to lie in obscurity for far too long.
For me it seems there's no better place to begin to rectify this neglect than with the legacy of Leroy Carr and Scrapper Blackwell.
Each edition of A Cultural Manifesto features a mix from Kyle Long, spotlighting music from around the globe. This week's selection features classic recordings by Scrapper Blackwell and Leroy Carr. An email has been sent to with a link to confirm list signup. Top trending stories from the week. Some clouds this evening will give way to mainly clear skies overnight. Low 38F.
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