With every passing year, it becomes more and more evident how the music industry short-shrifted artists among the Golden Age of Rock and Roll, which lasted from the mid-1950s into the early part of the following decade. The inequitable practice especially affected Black artists, who music executives notoriously ripped off with royalty agreements—even though many of them had provided the groundwork for pop and rock music to dominate the ensuing decades. The 2002 documentary Standing in the Shadows of Motown revealed the extent to which studio musicians The Funk Brothers received virtually no credit for their work on albums for Motown Records and its founder, Berry Gordy. Ronnie Spector and Estelle Bennett of The Ronettes, one of the greatest girl groups of the ’60s, both became homeless in their late years. And so on.
Nowadays, every few years, another under-appreciated blues artist is re-examined and given the respect they’re owed. Cases in point include R.L. Burnside, Leadbelly, and Junior Kimbrough. And now, another bluesman is getting a well-deserved look: Swamp Dogg, a songwriter and producer who began his career 71 years ago, with a debut album dropping 16 years after that in 1970. The renewed attention is largely due to the new fanbase he’s reached with a slew of releases on indie labels like Joyful Noise and Don Giovanni featuring collaborations with Bon Iver, Jenny Lewis, Margo Price, and John Prine, as well as the recently released, charmingly oddball documentary Swamp Dogg Gets His Pool Painted. The Magnolia Pictures film had a small theatrical run about a month ago and is now available to stream.
While we won’t divulge the surprises in the good-natured and entertaining doc, we invited the 82-year-old Swamp Dogg to participate in the latest edition of our “5 Questions” series, accentuating some of the most memorable moments in the career of a legendary artist who’s seen it all.
You don’t go out on the road much anymore, right?
At least every week, I want to work, because it’s in me, and I have fun when I do it. It keeps me alive. I also enjoy it because, these days, I can play anywhere. As a Black act, there was a time where I only played at venues where other Black musicians played. Crowds used to be unruly and unrestrained; they’re more polite now, and I like that, too. Everything back then was more mellow. It’s especially hard to tour now because every single thing in the world is crazy. When I do perform these days, half of my show is from my very first album, Total Destruction to Your Mind. I have a couple of concerts coming up where I’ll have a chance to do even more songs. With some of them, the people in the audience sing my song better than me—even [concertgoers] who weren’t born when the album came out!
What goes on in your head when you’re playing that material from 55 years ago?
Most of the songs had a story behind them. Most of the love songs were written for my wife. Sometimes I think back to when I was signing in 1960. Also, when I’m listening to myself [playing early material], it occurs to me that I never had any real lows mentally. [Negativity] never touched my heart; I’ve always been very optimistic. I used to get anxiety attacks over performing, but it’s leveled off. I went to a psychiatrist, and now I’m alright.
Here’s a memory: In the ’60s, some people in Miami put on a party for me—and someone put LSD into my wine, and I didn’t know it. I wasn’t a bad kid, and I never inflicted any of my shortcomings on other people. I once took my music to what used to be called a “service station,” because they had a snack area with a jukebox. I asked the manager if he would put my music on his jukebox, and he did. I’d go back there every chance I got, put a nickel in the jukebox, and play my song.
This question is usually a bit tired, but given the longevity of your illustrious career, I gotta ask: Have you ever looked back on any of your decisions with regret?
One was walking away from Island Records. [Founder] Chris Blackwell wanted me on the label—he didn’t even care whether I’d sell any records. He just wanted me to make an album that he would enjoy. I wanted a billboard on Sunset Boulevard promoting the album. I asked Chris for one, and he said no. So I did it anyway. Because he wasn’t giving any Island acts a billboard, other artists on the label thought he had done so for me. It caused some confusion at Island.
I also turned down some productions that were brought to me. When I was on Atlantic, I went by the studio one day, and [co-producer] Jerry Wexler was in there working on Aretha Franklin songs. He called me in and asked me, “You got anything for this lady?” I was so starstruck that I reluctantly replied, “No.” I had maybe 15 songs that would’ve been just right, and to this day I still don’t know how it might have turned out. She was on the charts and was doing it. Yeah, I’d like to go back.
How do you think blues music has transformed itself over the years?
That’s a hard question to answer, because there have been a lot of changes. But the biggest one is probably the way recording music has changed. When we started recording, it was on mono: Everybody was singing at the same time and playing into one mic. Sometimes you had to put the drummer in the restroom and let him play from there. The singer would be someplace else in order to get that right balance. When the four-track became the eight-track—which became the 16-track and then the 24-track—you could get more sounds into a song.
What was it like when your fanbase transitioned to more of a mixed group of people?
I imagine a lot of white people who didn’t turn out early in my career later would. In terms of race, I looked to my idols: Larry Darnell, Chuck Berry. My biggest influence of all was Jerry Lee Lewis. The day I found out about him was the day I stopped learning and didn’t need to know anymore. Those were my role models during that era, and we kept on moving. We got along because I love cutting records and recording music. Music makes me so happy that I’d do it after death, if it’s possible. I love it, and there’s nothing that can stop me from loving it.
