 March 2007 |
Text by Larry Benicewicz, |
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It’s hard to believe but it’s been nearly a decade since I wrote an in depth article for the Bluesrag about visiting some of the premier blues clubs in the European capitals, including Paris, Antwerp, and Amsterdam. This past holiday season, I decided to muster my meager financial resources and take a sentimental journey through these same cities to discover whether their blues scenes were indeed flourishing like before, or if blues had finally fallen out of favor - as it seems to have stateside. Or is it my imagination? Surely, I thought, the Europeans, who respect and cherish all aspects of American roots music (which we take for granted) would still be carrying the torch. I have to admit that at the outset in Paris, things indeed looked bleak in this regard, but by the end of my voyage, I’m pleased to report, there was a happy ending. I’ve been to Paris many times over the last 25 years, and I can remember in the old days the joy of buying the Pariscope, their compact version of the City Paper, at any kiosk on Wednesdays and turning right to the entertainment section. There were so many venues and so little time. Now there’s hardly one worth exploring, as all the old standbys have fallen on hard times and what’s worse, the covers, which were once affordable, are currently astronomical due to the inexorable, yet puzzling, devaluation of the dollar against the Euro. And alcoholic beverages which were always expensive because of heavy taxation are now even more so. |
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 Gone is the Chesterfield Café just off the Champs Elysees at 124 Rue La Boetie. A decade ago it was the blues epicenter of Paris, having played host to an array of stellar bluesmen - Omar and the Howlers, Popa Chubby, and Sonny Landreth. The huge room with a circular bar in its center was packed each night and many of the shows were broadcast live over French radio, further attracting a clientele, both native and foreign. The French fondly called it “une vache a lait,” a money cow. And, in its heyday, it certainly was the proverbial money mill; this despite the fact that it hardly ever charged a cover (entrée). But somehow over the years this club had lost its cigarette corporate sponsorship (thus the name) and had undergone many management turnovers. Rumors were always circulating about the actual cause of its decline. Nonetheless, it was no longer offering live acts (at least not of the imported blues variety) and had become but a ghostly, empty shell of its former self - an incredible end to such a vibrant venue, if for no other reason than its prime tourist location. |
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 Another frequent destination of yore was the Quai Du Blues run by Gerard Vacher. On any weekend, you could count on seeing a big time American act - Ike Turner, Eddie King, or Guitar Shorty - for a rather then-modest 15 Euro cover (100 francs). I recall that during one monthly stretch ten years ago, Quai Du Blues’s marquee trumpeted such blues stars as Eddie Shaw, Phil Guy, Eddie Burns, and The Excello Legends (Earl Gaines, Roscoe Shelton, and Clifford Curry). Now the club is only sporadically listed in the Pariscope. Frankly, I don’t know how it stays in business without a drawing card and, even during that golden era, accessibility, or lack thereof, had always been a detriment to its prosperity. Located on the Ile de la Jatte, an island in the Seine, in the tony northwest suburb of Neuilly, it can only be reached by a series of transfers by Le Metro (the subway) and the nearest stop, Pont De Levallois-Becon, must be accompanied by a 3/4 mile walk and some deft traffic dodging. You could take a cab (not a very cheap alternative); that is, if something there were worth seeing. But nowadays, there most likely is not. |
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 Another erstwhile dependable blues club was the New Morning, situated in north central Paris (10th Arrondissement) on rue des Petites Ecuries, in the heart of quite an ethnically diverse neighborhood, to say the least. Seemingly, at least once a month a major blues artist like Sonny Rhodes or a jazz player like Pharaoh Sanders would be contracted. But as the years wore on, even New Morning strayed farther from both blues and jazz and now is totally given over to “World Music” - reggae, salsa, mambo, Algerian Rai, Zairean soukous. Blues acts are few and far in between and, sad to say, sparsely attended. If all else fails (and it did this time), there’s always the blues “refuge” of the high rollers, Le Meridien Etoile hotel just off the Avenue de la Grand Armee at 81, blvd. Gouvion Saint-Cyr. Its sumptuous, mirrored Lionel Hampton Room on the first floor has seen the likes of the late Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, Dr. John, Marva Wright, Nora Jean Brusso, and even our own Bobby Parker, who both performed and then camped out here in these elegant “digs” for a week or two at a time. There is no official cover, but at least one drink per set is mandatory, often at 40 Euros ($60); a second can be had for a bargain - merely half price. As you can see, the bill can add up in a hurry, especially if you are buying rounds - never a good idea anywhere in France. But it’s not just the blues clubs of Paris that are suffering. Live music, itself, is rapidly diminishing; when one club disappears, it is not being replaced. Oh, but the discos are hopping, especially when they are piping in rap music. One can only imagine the transformation of American hip hop music - the bling, menacing gestures, macho posturing, and yes, all the while singing in French yet. I don’t get it. It’s similar to when you order Tex-Mex food (all the rage) here. It’s sort of the French spin on this cuisine, light years removed from its original source. But the point is that the young folks here in the City of Lights are not interested in the blues anymore just as the second generation of urbanized blacks in America in the 60s repudiated the music of their ancestors in favor of soul. As they say in France, a chacun a son gout (to each his own taste). And blues is decidedly losing this competition. Nonetheless, after a sojourn in Paris of nearly two weeks (and a round robin of soirees chez mes amis, which cut costs considerably), I was hungry for some real blues and I bought my Thalys ticket (high speed train from Paris to Amsterdam) at the Gare Montparnasse, hoping to get my blues fix up north. |
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After arriving at the Central Station, I hopped a tram to our hotel adjacent to the Leidseplein; for if there were any live music to be had in this bustling Dutch metropolis, it would be in and around this tourist focal point. And I was not to be disappointed. Still in business was the venerable Melkweg (Milky Way), a sprawling, multi-level entertainment complex (cinema, art center, concert hall), which, in this latter function, is the Dutch equivalent of Paris’s New Morning. In contrast, though, this establishment was going full tilt practically each night of the week. Perhaps once a month, the Melkweg would reliably bring in a blues giant, like Buddy Guy. A whole slew of American expatriates have entertained here over the years, including pianist Big Joe Duskin, tenor Big Jay McNeely, Guitar Crusher (Sidney Selby), and guitarist Louisiana Red (Iverson Minter). Chubby Carrier (Roy’s son) has also appeared and I saw the late Junior Walker (Autry Dewalt) a few years back. |
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 Unfortunately, there wasn’t any blues on the slate of the Melkweg the night of my arrival, so I walked a few blocks to the Bourbon Street Cafe at Leidsekruisstraat 6-8, a structure which you could easily identify because of the figures of the Blues Brothers, Jake and Elwood, prancing above the entrance. It’s been at this site since 1990 and once seemed to be an exclusively blues or blues-rock domain, catering especially to British bands. But I noticed that on Mondays it now announced a Latin jam and the lineup for the month was a real mixed bag of funk, soul, and rock. To its credit, two days a week were set aside for blues jams - Sundays, led by American expatriate guitarist Terry Mann and his counterpart on Tuesdays, Lamar Chase, of Oakland, CA, who was currently the leader of Mama’s Bad Boys (more about them later) and who once was part of the supporting cast of many a Bay Area R&B notable - John Lee Hooker, J.J. Malone, Tower of Power, and Sly and the Family Stone. It was a Tuesday, but I had already in the past partaken of the jams there, which I found could be really uneven in quality. Though I appreciate the fact that Bourbon Street is a live venue, there is still something a bit predatory and mercenary about the operation that doesn’t sit well with me - the bouncers, the condescending attitude of the staff to the tourists, their magnanimous “acceptance” of all major credit cards, and the shameless self promotion by way of name dropping all the famous personages who have paid a call - Sting, Toto, the crew of the Rolling Stones, Jeff Healey, and blues’ newest ingénue, Joss Stone. It is a restaurant, and if you get in before eleven, you can normally avoid paying the cover (which varies). Music often lasts until four in the morning. |
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 Although Bourbon Street can and does have its shining moments, it can’t hold a niche in my heart like Maloe Melo, which unlike the former is never acknowledged in any “places to see” in city guides. In fact, it’s the secret spot where all the locals go to hear the blues. In its long history since 1984, it has undergone many changes, including a slight relocation, a lost lease for about four years, and an extensive interior redecoration. Being slightly off the beaten tourist track (about 6 blocks from the Leidseplein) on the edge of a canal at Lijnbaangracht 163, and smack dab in the middle of a residential (and I must say very tolerant) neighborhood, it always seemed to be on the verge of shutting its doors permanently. But, as I neared, my fears of its premature extinction were unjustified. Indeed, it was comforting to see that the sign was still lit. |
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 Cover to Marcel Scherpenzeel's CD, Guitar & Soul, Photo: Christel Wolters |
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 The aforementioned guitarist Lamar Chase also leads the blues jams several times each month here at Maloe Melo, as does his able bodied bassist from Mama’s Bad Boys, Otis Rahim Hornesby, who hails from New Jersey and who has had experience in the States backing Jimmy Reed and jazz chanteuse, Nancy Wilson. When the two are not fronting jams in Amsterdam, they add a Russian-born drummer, Tolik Smirnoff, and as a threesome have played engagements in Somerset, England and Paris, as well as all the home bases. According to Otis, they have been gigging around the Low Countries since 1989 and have quite a devoted and loyal following.That Thursday night, it was Otis’s turn. And, to say the least, he put on a clinic of R&B, funk, and blues. I could tell that he was a solid, seasoned pro in the manner with which he could take such a motley crew of volunteers and meld them into one cohesive unit on the bandstand, no mean feat during such occasions when everyone individually wants to strut his stuff. As the night progressed, more and more people came through the door. And why not? The music was great and the drinks were cheap. |
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| During the intermission, I was able to talk to Jur about the state of the club. Since my last visit, his English had improved dramatically, no doubt due to fact that he with his country rock band, Lazy Sunday Dream (in which he handled keyboards and accordion), had made a mini-tour of the U.S. in 2001, culminating in an engagement in Austin at the prestigious South by Southwest Festival. In the course of our conversation, he confided to me rather apologetically that he really couldn’t make a living any longer just by booking blues. So, to fill out the schedule, he diversifies by accepting punk, rockabilly, and rock and roll. He also confessed that he has to keep the cover charge at a minimum (mostly 5 Euros) even when foreign groups play so as not to scare away the regulars. It has always been a delicate balancing act. Even when Patti Smith agreed to perform here in November, 2005, Jur pulled off a coup by keeping the ticket price in the 20 Euro range, well below what the market would normally dictate for such an esteemed legend. By the way, the show sold out quickly. Jur is also a master of trying to coordinate with the many area festivals in order to lure blues luminaries to his club. But with his honest reputation and sincere reverence for the blues, he doesn’t have to twist too many agents’ arms. It was sad to finally leave the club. Having retired, I no longer have the financial wherewithal to come “over the pond” as much as I used to. In addition, Jur is now 63 and I wondered how much longer he wanted to continue this daily grind, even if it were a labor of love. But there was now Antwerp on the horizon and a new world to conquer.  Antwerp? Americans must be puzzled by this choice on my itinerary. But I’ve come here many times. First, it is conveniently situated, half-way between Amsterdam and Paris on the high speed track. Secondly, it reminds me a lot of Baltimore. It’s a blue collar port city of roughly the same size and, like us, is completely unpretentious. It has an old district surrounded by sociable neighborhoods. As in Baltimore, people here are extremely solicitous and helpful and don’t mind speaking English, sort of a common denominator of a country divided into at least three languages - Flemish, French, and German. Also as in Charm City, there are many bars, and drinks, even in the most luxurious settings, are extremely reasonable. But the most compelling reason I make Antwerp a regular stop is the music. It is a city totally infatuated with it. And the painted trolleys proudly display slogans such as “Life is music.” And to these people, it could not be truer. |
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All right, I also admit that I have a hidden agenda as well. To a record collector such as I, Antwerp is a paradise. And what other city publicizes such disk emporiums at the very top of its tourist maps? On one avenue alone in the old town, Lange Koepoortstraat, there are no less than four boutiques which specialize in rarities of all genres - Fat Kat, Mister CD, Record Collector, and Replay. And other specialty shops are within easy walking distance - Vinyl at 27 Aalmoezenierstraat, Mark Sound at 6 Woolstraat, Backtrack at 40 Sint Katelijnevest and Tune Up at 9 Korte Nieuwstraat. These are just a few of the more renowned stores. People from all over Europe and even Japan flock here because many of the items, especially blues and jazz, cannot be found in print anywhere. And if one store doesn’t have your request, it will have a resident expert who will kindly direct you to another that may stock it. But getting back to the live music part, Antwerp is a city that really embraces it. And as luck would have it, we happened to land in a great place to hear it. I had a friend in Paris, Eric Hullaert, who is not only a collector (blues, soul, doo-whop) but also a businessman, a buyer for C&A, a large discount clothing store chain, which is well represented here. He not only recommended Antwerp as a destination but also one of its finest four star hotels. Since it wasn’t high tourist season, the Astrid Park Plaza hotel, situated in the heart of town at 7 Koningin Astridplein right near the Central Station, was then offering rooms at 80 Euros (now 110 dollars a night, four years ago 60). Eighty Euros was no longer cheap, but since we paid the same in Amsterdam and received a flea bag, in which we had to leave a deposit for the remote, television, keys, and extra pillows, we figured that we might as well go broke at the same rate going first class. As it turned out, we never regretted this decision in the least. In fact there was so much to see here, including a world class zoo and aquarium, we decided to stay five days.  By coincidence, next to our hotel was the Café Jozef. And, though it wasn’t a blues bar, it represented a typical watering hole preferred by the natives. There were only two musicians, Jan de Goeyse, who manned a synthesizer and a drummer, but between them, it sounded like an orchestra. A retired industrial arts schoolteacher, Jan, was the “rookie” of the duo, having only toiled here six nights a week for “merely” eight years. The percussionist was the veteran of fifteen years. From before suppertime, when the two began their grueling schedule of, perhaps, a half-dozen or more sets until the wee hours of the morning, the place was jammed with dancers and drinkers. Jan had a stack of playbooks, mostly of American rock and roll (some disco) and a repertoire of hundreds of songs. I had to inquire of him how he was able to maintain such a brutal pace with nary a vacation in sight and he responded, “Well, Larry, you should know how much I receive from the state with a teacher’s pension. Can’t live well on that amount. Besides, I have a wife in the Ukraine and I’m saving my salary and tips to move there one day in the near future.” Talk about dedication. Just around the corner was a “late night” Irish bar which offered entertainment as well, although some evenings, there would only be a solo act. And nearby were many karaoke dens. In short, these denizens of Antwerp liked to party and socialize be it a weekday or weekend. |
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  Photos ctsy BASarchive |
 As far as blues goes, I heartily endorse a relative newcomer, Kid’s Rhythm ‘N’ Blues Kaffe, a cozy, welcoming club a short stone’s throw from the main square in the old town section at Grote Markt 50. It is very similar to the Maloe Maloe in that it presents many local and international blues bands on regular basis. Owned and operated by the popular Kid Van Thienen, a huge blues fanatic, it offers a casual, relaxed atmosphere in which to enjoy the music. During many evenings, there are no cover charges or just nominal ones and libations, as usual in Belgium, are at their normal everyday, inexpensive rates. Also, like Maloe Melo, it offers mid-level acts along the lines of Joe Bonamassa, Tommy Castro, and Lucky Peterson. Furthermore, it plays host to an annual summer blues festival (apparently just outside the bar) which is hugely successful. The weekend when we were in Antwerp, the venue was not presenting blues, but even on a Sunday night, there was a great turnout for a competent, up-and-coming, American country-rock band, the Cowlicks (which I didn’t recognize). We were probably the only tourists in attendance and here it was after midnight and no one yet had gone home. This was just another example of the staying power of these citizens of Antwerp, as far as music was concerned.Like all the French arenas, Maloe Melo, Melkweg, and the Bourbon Street Cafe, Kid’s Rhythm & Blues Café has a website, so that you can adjust your holidays for optimal blues viewing in Antwerp, Amsterdam, and Paris. As I completed this particular junket, I came to two major conclusions. There is indeed a moral to this tale. First, the way the dollar is falling, be prepared to spend a bundle of cash, especially upon lodging, unless you can endure being sheltered in a youth hostel. Secondly, if affordability is no problem and if you want to hear the blues in Europe, always head in one direction - north. And the farther north, the better. Larry Benicewicz, Baltimore Blues Society, BluesArt-Journal |
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Nothing much had really changed. As you enter, there was the old familiar long bar run by Patrick, the son of the proprietor, Jur Scherpenzeel. When I inquired about his father’s welfare, he nodded toward the heavy double doors of the inner sanctum, where they play the music. As I opened the portal, there was Jur, as usual, on the left manning both the bar and mixing board console. He looked a bit older but his vestigial jelly roll with accompanying D.A. was still perfectly coiffed. 
As I enjoyed the show and regarded the wall opposite to us, I could distinguish the framed portraits of many blues heroes who had either sat in or played engagements here over the years. In fact, it was like a blues shrine - Jimmy Johnson, Son Seals, Ronnie Earl, Mark Hummel, Jimmy Dawkins, Doug Sahm, Gatemouth Brown, T Model Ford, Lefty Dizz, and Candye Kane, just to name a few. But, there was also a new addition to this “wall of fame” directly across from the bar - a hermetically sealed Bluesrag with Jur gracing the cover. It was the article I had written a decade ago. As usual, there was always a surprise when you came to see perhaps the world’s #1 blues fan.