Butterscotch: Cleveland's Blues Diva

Blues women. Not quite an anomaly and either as scarce as the proverbial hen’s teeth. What they are is worth their weight in gold. African-American female Blues singers are at the top of that class. Adding to the dearth dilemma was the Blues world loss of Koko Taylor in June [2009]. As fate would have it, we were introduced to the talented Ms. Butterscotch during Wilbert’s Bar and Grille’s benefit for the local food bank. Wallace Coleman, formerly with the Robert Lockwood Jr. All-star Band, introduced his special guest—Ms. Butterscotch. For her first number she and Coleman did a standard Blues song—which I do not remember. Then someone in the audience yells a request for Stoop Down. Let me just say that at that moment Ms. Butterscotch was separated from the pack. There was a bonafide Blues Diva in the house.

A retired special-education teacher, Butterscotch was born in 1945 in Gaston, Alabama. Living closer to Tennessee and Atlanta, than the State Capital Montgomery, is just one of the contradiction she came to identify as part of what makes her unique. She began singing as the age of 5. She recalls as a pre-teen, the military escorts when she sang on various military installations throughout the region. Being black in the heart of Dixie, she grew up in the Catholic faith. But she was not without the Baptist influence. After attending Sunday Mass, her grandmother would insist Butterscotch accompany her to the Baptist Church.

While growing up, racial inequity was so systemic, that on the average day it was simply a way of life. For Butterscotch there was an additional element to discrimination that most of her race did not experience. As the head of her class, the scholarship, that was rightfully hers, went to a fellow student. The justification was that only Baptists were eligible to receive the scholarship. Being Catholic made her ineligible to receive the much needed funds.  Subsequently, the family had an additional financial burden when she entered college.

For most high school students, college in New Orleans would seem the opportune time to party. But for Butterscotch, it did not quite work out that way. Louisiana known for a prominent Catholic presence, did not present the same anti-Catholic problems she encountered in Alabama. However, Xavier University in the 60s was on the fringe of an underclass community that did not hold the college students with much esteem.  Her hard work eventually resulted in her being one of four students selected for a special teaching assignment--in Selma, Alabama. She was there when Dr. King marched across the Edmund Pettus Bridge.

With a past glistening with ironies, based on the present, her future is a bright blue. “Let everybody know that I am a Cleveland Blues singer,” she instructed me. “I want to be as well known in Cleveland as Aretha is in Detroit.” In my book Butterscotch is Cleveland’s Blues Diva.

‘Cause the lady can sang those Blues.

Eddie Stanberry

The first time I met Eddie Stanberry, he came into this joint where we had gone to hear another group. Actually, it wasn’t a normal walk; it was more like a peep. He gave the impression of timidity, of meekness. Wearing an old brim--the kind used by a movie wardrobe department to dress a hobo or derelict. Under the hat he wore a scarf tied around his head. To finish the look, he wore a long black coat reminiscent of the slickers worn by Jesse and Frank and the gang. Hailing from Clarksdale, Mississippi, he looked every bit the part of a 1930s bluesman stepping of a Greyhound bus from the Crossroads. The coat he wore was perhaps as old.


It would have been easy to dismiss and miss him had I taken a quick look and turned away. I would have taken him for an indigent trying to come in out of the cold, to some place where he could get a couple of dollars or something to drink. But I did not turn away. God said look. I needed to see who he was. He goes back out and returns with his baby. Eddie and I had clicked. You know the type of click that occurs when the sperm encounters the egg. It is imperceptible. No one but the good LORD knows what has happened. Now don't get me wrong this was not sordid. It was as pure as the fertilization process itself. After all, everything the Good LORD did (all His work is finished) was good. The very first note he struck validated him.


Eddie has been playing since the age of five when his minister dad bought his first guitar and showed him how to play. The 15th out of a family of 16 children, he claims to be cousin to B.B. King. You won't find any family resemblance even if you turned him upside down. But when he plays it is a different story. Oh, there is one other thing about Eddie Stanberry that solidifies his status as the real deal. His friends tell me the cat has nine lives. Stanberry has survived a shooting, a house fire that nearly incapacitated his playing; he was in a motorcycle accident and hit by a semi-truck. Yeah. Does that sound like a movie project replete with a C&W theme song?

Check out his Nightfall @ 1600 Blues Avenue.

Robert Lockwood Jr All-star Band Says Goodbye to Fat Fish Blue

It was a bittersweet evening. After 11-years playing Wednesday nights at Fat Fish Blue, the Robert Lockwood Jr. All-star Band said good-bye in their way. The All-stars, many returned for the finale, included Red Top, DC, Reedus, Gene Schwartz, Wallace Coleman, and Vernon Jones.  Joining the alumni on stage were Butterscotch and Honeycomb. Well-wishers such as Sweet Willy and Tom Hoven were on the scene as well as the FAMU basketball team. Mind you, the FAMU did not make the trip from Florida for this historical occasion, but happened to be in town to play CSU.

Our best wishes to all the guys. By the way, no one is planning to retire. 

Keep bluesing and jazzing guys. 

Journey mercy as you get your second wind.

The Next Disney Mega-Star

Watching the Jonas Brothers for the first time. I had an assignment that asked whether the Jonas Brothers would be the mega stars they are without the Disney marketing machine. Based on research, I answered no and had to support my position with rationale and logic. So, here I am watching a Jonas Brothers’ docu-concert and I am pleased with my acuity. Trust that gut! It ain’t always gas.

Hey, don’t get me wrong, I fully support clean, wholesome entertainment for tweens and frankly, anyone. That being said, the question begs to be asked, “Do you think Disney could make me a mega-star? If the traditional route fails (a little thing called talent), they could pay a couple thousand people to show up at my concert and pretend they are having the biggest orgasm of their life. Don’t get me wrong, it is conceivable that all those screaming females showed up of their own volition without reciprocity. I was smitten once and had a crush on a certain boy band. In fact one member I never forgave for marrying “that” woman; and then he married someone with a handicap whom he later divorced and had to pay a lot money. And now he is old. Serves him right! Forgive me Jesus, but LORD You know. Tell the truth and shame the Devil.

Sorry, I digressed. I’m back. The Disney execs would never do anything that would make Walt haunt them. So Disney marketeers, ready for the next superstar? Call me. Email me. Stop by the house the next time you are in town. You can even send one of the company planes for me. I am rest to go!

What Was the Name of That Song?

What was the song that seemed only you and the performer knew existed? You didn't just know the song, it spoke to you every time you heard it. Every time it played, you were all up in the radio. No one dared talk to you while your song was playing. House burning down? So! My song is playing. Baby crying? Psst! He will be just fine. The doctor says crying is good for the lungs. Now what was the name of that sung?

A few of my 'unsung' songs were: David Porter's Hang on Sloopy; Blinky's I Wouldn't Change the Man He Is. The list goes on. What are some of your 'unsung' songs?

Holla at me

So Where's the Beatles Catalog

Wiped out after my trip to the ATL,  I drugged my fatigued butt to the theater to see This Is It! So here are my thoughts. The movie wasn't as emotional as I had anticipated. The similarities between Michael and Elvis were striking--at least to me. And I would like to know into whose hands has the Beatles catalog fallen? Okay, so these thoughts may appear random and unrelated to a rational, analytical thinker. But stay with me, you'll see my point.

The concert, billed prophetically as his last, would consist of the platinum hits that made him the undisputed king of pop. Although Michael had not performed on stage in ten years, he was still very much a brand. I suppose the evidence of his brand power was witnessed in the dancers' reactions to him. The dancers would probably have been in their mid-teens when the pop idol performed last. The point being, he did not have a lot of new material. What he had was star power; and, I might add, he was still quite relevant. One does not sellout 50 concert dates and without being relevant. So back to the point--the material was not new. He still had the same moves of the past 30 years; the same yelp, the same woo-who.

So this brings me to the Elvis similarity. One contributor to Elvis' insecurities was the lack of renewal. He—Elvis--was the undisputed king (of whatever he was king of), which was due in large part to his gyrations. There was no other white man on the planet doing that stuff, not even the flamboyant Jerry Lee. Why did he--Elvis--not reinvent himself and keep his show relevant? Certainly Michael was much was cognizant of the need for relevance than Elvis, but I wonder would he have made the transition?

Finally, the question begs to be asked. In addition to Poppa Joe's bizarre words, "Michael is worth more dead than a live", was the absence of the normal expression of grief. Who does that? The family's breadwinner is reported to be dead and you come out with a less than mournful reaction to the unexpected death of your child? I apologize if I appear to be judgmental.  Perhaps I just don't want to believe Peter Pan is dead. May be, may be. But I tell you one thing, I have seen too many movies to take anything Hollywood does or says at face value. 

After we swapped notes on This Is It! my unemployed friend, using the excuse of being utterly disgusted with my lack of Michael knowledge, announces that she will just have to go back to see the film--FOR THE FIFTH TIME!

So where is the Beatles catalog?

Is This Really It?

My girl called this afternoon to say she was en route to purchase tickets for This Is It! No biggie, right. This would be true were it not for the fact she had seen the film twice in less than 24 hours. You heard right. This would be her third time viewing MJ's requiem.

The message. "The dude was a genius! Michael was in control of everything."

Cool. So, what I want to know, did he behave as though he was on drugs?

"No way! A drugged out person would not be able to move the way he was moving."

I don't know but I must wonder whether he is on that island where the rich, famous, and infamous
go to shed the burden of their own success.