Tom Lee Park is an open field area on the banks of the Mississippi just a hundred yards or so off Beale Street in Memphis. During "Memphis in May" three stages are used, the first being the “Delta Blues” stage. While the younger generation mainly gravitates to the Main Stage to hear the Black Crows or whatever’s current, my wife and I always stayed at “Delta Blues”. Old black men and women who laid the foundation of rock and roll, rhythm and blues still performed there.
Rufus Thomas always made an appearance in his green-sequined hot pants, doing the “Funky Chicken”, Junior Wells in a three piece red suit, playing that harmonica and Koko Taylor singing “Damn Those Eyes” straight at me and laughing when I stepped back a foot or two. Even Robert “Junior” Lockwood, the so-called son of Robert Johnson, made a reluctant appearance. “Hell of a way to make a living!” was caught by the live mike as Lockwood set up his chair at a forty-five degree angle to the audience. His frail, proud wife sat next to him as he ran several blues licks up and down his twelve string.
I was unfamiliar with the next act. Someone called Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown. What looked like a group of aging bikers were checking the controls and plugging in, muscular white men with tatoos, graying at the temples. But soon they were kicking into several strong blues numbers. I recall trying to figure out which one was “Brown”. Ten minutes into the set, they began laying down a steady back beat, loud and strong. One of the muscle men grabbed a microphone and shouted: “C L A R E N C E “G A T E M O U T H” B R O W NNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” A spotlight highlighted the back of the stage, where a frail black man appeared disoriented. He looked panic-stricken to the left and to the right. Two of the back-ups went back to him, each taking an arm and guiding him to the microphone. They had to actually point him toward the audience and place a guitar in his hands, gently lifting the strap over his head.
Gate mumbled into the mike: “Don’t try this at home.” Then he tore into his guitar in a blues crescendo that went into outer space. He came back initially as Jimi Hendrix, then ventured into space again, returning as Stevey Ray Vaughn. His final foray brought him back as Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown. I stood in awe, wondering where an aged 140 lb. man found such power.
Gate’s set was fast and furious. He made the fiddle talk. He was all over several harmonicas and a mandolin. The audience was more aware than me and knew just when to shout “alligator-eatin’ dog!” I soon learned.
His albums don’t do him justice. See him live if you can.
TMS