Half way through side 2 of Cream's 1967 album 'Disraeli Gears' is a track called 'Outside Woman Blues' which is credited to a certain Arthur Reynolds. Although Cream were rooted in blues music, this album saw them moving into a more psychedelic phase, yet 'Outside Woman Blues' is one of the few songs on the album which does hark back to their blues origins. But who on earth is or was Arthur Reynolds?
Collectors of pre-war blues music will of course be familiar with the song by a certain Blind Joe Reynolds. It was recorded in November 1929 in Grafton, Wisconsin, the home of Paramount Records and it was released coupled with 'Nehi Blues' on that label (Paramount 12927).
Two further tracks were also recorded by Reynolds at that session - 'Ninety Nine Blues' and 'Cold Woman Blues' and they were subsequently released on the same label (Paramount 12983).
Why Cream should choose to credit him as Arthur Reynolds remains a puzzle but then so much surrounding this character is shrouded in mystery. For example, research in the late 1960's by blues historian and writer Gayle Dean Wardlow revealed that his name was not Reynolds at all but that he may have been born Joe Sheppard in 1900 or 1904. Even this 'fact' is disputed however by his nephew Henry Millage, who claimed that he was born Joe Leonard but changed his name to Sheppard when he got into trouble with the law. This seems to have been a regular occurrence in the tumultuous life of the man who eventually became known on record as Blind Joe Reynolds.
He was raised in Tallulah which lies about 20 miles west of the Mississippi River near Vicksburg and began strumming guitar and hanging around with a few older players when still in his early teens. He was rarely out of trouble though and in the early 1920's he spent time in the Arkansas State Penitentiary. It was also during this period that he was blinded by a shotgun blast in Louisiana. In 1929 his guitar playing was heard in a lumber camp near Lake Providence by talent scout and music store owner, H. C. Speir. It was Speir who encouraged Reynolds to travel to Grafton to cut the four sides referred to above though Speir later confessed that he had already heard of Reynolds through other musicians (either Bo Carter or Charley Patton).
The following year, in November 1930, Reynolds recorded a further four songs in Memphis. 'Third Street Woman Blues' and 'Married Man Blues' were released on a 78 rpm record on the Victor label under the name Blind Willie Reynolds. Sadly the other two songs recorded that day, 'Short Dress' and 'Goose Hill Woman Blues', were never released and would appear to have been permanently lost. Fortunately all six of the released songs by Reynolds have survived although only three copies of 'Nehi Blues' / 'Outside Woman Blues' and only one of 'Ninety-Nine Blues' / 'Cold Woman Blues' have been discovered. Thanks to the generosity of their owners, all surviving tracks are currently available for our enjoyment on various blues compilations.
Although he never recorded again, Reynolds continued playing and singing and in the 1950's switched to an electric guitar. He died of pneumonia on 10 March 1968, only 10 months after Cream recorded their own version of his signature tune, 'Outside Woman Blues'.
Here is a link to Reynolds' version of that song.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEI4MYoTBMM
Last week I took myself off to a local cinema to see this documentary on the subject of Ginger Baker by writer/director Jay Bulger. The audience witness from the very beginning of the film, the kind of subject matter we are dealing with here, as Baker launches a torrent of abuse on the hapless director, culminating in a physical assault on the poor guy with the handle of Baker's walking cane. The indications were that the film was going to be anything but dull.
Which is as you would expect concerning a complex and volatile character like Baker. Surely someone with his musical background was going to have a wealth of interesting and informative tales to tell about his rock and roll lifestyle. Well, so I thought when I commenced reading his book 'Hellraiser' last year. Yet, I found myself bored before I reached the midway stage of the book and soon abandoned it. Despite this film covering essentially the same subject matter, it was anything but boring and once I became accustomed to the use of dark, disturbing cartoons to illustrate some parts of the story, I found the film to be very entertaining.
As one would expect the music used throughout is simply glorious though naturally the musical clips have to be kept relatively short. Nevertheless we are treated to The Graham Bond Organisation, Cream, Blind Faith, Air Force and a selection of clips from Baker's forays into African music in Nigeria and South Africa. Also there was some great footage of some of the jazz drummers who had influenced the young Peter Baker.
The story is told in Baker's own words through his interviews with Bulger. These are tempered and sometimes contradicted by contributions from Eric Clapton, Stevie Winwood, Denny Laine, Jack Bruce, Johnny Rotten, Charlie Watts and members of Baker's family including assorted ex wives and girlfriends. The family especially have suffered from Baker's irrational and sometimes violent behaviour. I felt particularly for his son Kofi who appears to have been singled out for some very bad treatment at the hands of his father, yet he came across as a sensible and well-rounded personality in his own right. Good on him! He certainly comes out of the film with more credit than his father.
There are of course some moments of great humour in the film. For example when Jack Bruce is asked for his opinion of Ginger. With a slight pause and a wry smile, he claims that Ginger Baker is the best Ginger Baker in the world. There are also Baker's comments on Mick Jagger, Keith Moon and John Bonham.
Having hurt and angered so many friends and family members, I wondered whether Baker was capable of any emotions beyond anger and bitterness, yet towards the end of the film we see him shed tears about the fact that the four jazz drummers he most idolised were now his friends. This clearly meant a lot to him. I felt it a shame that such feelings appeared not to extend towards his own offspring.
One of Baker's main gripes appears to be the fact that as writers, Jack Bruce and Pete Brown have made more money from Cream than he or Clapton ever did. He claims that he added considerably to the success of some songs citing the bolero rhythm of 'White Room' as one example. This may well be the case but it is a hard fact of life that the writers receive the lion's share of the spoils while arrangers get zilch. Clearly Baker hasn't got over this and his bitterness is apparent for all to see.
The film appeared to go by in a flash so I clearly found it gripping. I would claim that it could also bear a repeated viewing. I suggest you go to see it if you get the opportunity.
