Polka King Page 12

  I liked being one of the boys, but I understood his point, so when I got back to Florida later that week, I hired a saxophonist to take my place in the reed section, planted myself front and center, and never looked back. That was the one of the best pieces of advice I’d ever received. And it wouldn’t have happened if Willie Nelson hadn’t been part of my life. That producer’s name was Bill Turner.

  In any event, there was no time for us to rest on our laurels after the TNN deal because the next night we had to deal with the Grand Ole Opry.

  In order to add some spice to the show, the Opry brain trust decided to keep Willie’s appearance a secret, so we devised a plan to make his appearance somewhat dramatic. After three songs, I was going to sing the first part from one of the tunes from Polka! All Night Long, then Willie would stroll out from the wings and sing the rest. We asked Willie if that was okay with him, and he said, as he often did, “Wellllllll, that sounds like fun to me.” When he set foot on stage, the audience let out a collective scream that was so loud, we were unable to hear another note for the rest of the tune. It was like he was Elvis, all four Beatles, and Justin Bieber, all wrapped up in one long-haired, cowboy hat–wearing package.

  I consider the fact that I played a small role in Willie Nelson’s triumphant debut at the Grand Ole Opry one of my great career highlights. But we can’t talk about career highlights without talking about Farm Aid.

  When Willie Nelson, John Mellencamp, and Neil Young put together the first Farm Aid festival in 1985, I don’t think they could have possibly imagined what it would become. Sure, that first concert in Champaign, Illinois, which featured the likes of Bob Dylan, B.B. King, Billy Joel, and Roy Orbison, was a rousing success, raising some nine million dollars for struggling farmers all over the United States, but did they envision that Farm Aid would become an American fund-raising force for almost three decades? I doubt it, but it did. And congratulations to them.

  Being that Florida, New York, was filled with onion farmers who struggled almost as often as their Midwestern brethren, I was well aware of Farm Aid. So when Willie asked me to perform at the 2005 show in Manassas, Virginia, I was honored and thrilled and excited. At that point Farm Aid was iconic, and being associated with something so huge was like getting a seal of approval from the mainstream music industry. Not only did Willie ask the band to perform but I was also invited to appear on a pre-festival panel with Willie, Neil, John, and Dave Matthews. My ensuing two Farm Aid experiences were equally amazing, but nothing can top that first year.

  Taken at Farm Aid, Jimmy, Jesse Jackson, and Willie in Willie’s tour bus during a break.

  Backstage at Farm Aid—Jimmy with John Mellencamp.

  When Willie was at Farm Aid, he was obviously the center of attention, always getting pulled this way and that, but no matter how busy he was, no matter how many interviews he had on the books, no matter how many hands he had to shake, no matter how many farmers he stopped to hug, he always made it a point to perform a song with us, which is further proof that Willie Nelson is one of the finest gentlemen you’ll ever meet, either inside or outside the world of music.

  Postscript: A couple years after we met, Willie and I were sitting on his bus, chatting about nothing in particular, when he pulled out a joint and asked, “Care for some?” As mentioned earlier, I have never indulged. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, it’s just not my cup of tea. I gave Willie a thanks-but-no-thanks. Over the following few years, that scene repeated itself numerous times until one afternoon, when he gave me one of his trademark grins and said, “Wellllllll. I hear ya, Jim, I hear ya. But someday, someday I’m gonna get ya!”

  To this day, he hasn’t gotten me, but knowing Willie, he’ll keep trying . . .

  17

  More Special Guests, Part One

  Willie wasn’t the first country music heavyweight who graced one of my albums—that honor would go to my old friend “Whispering” Bill Anderson—but you could say that having Willie on my CD legitimized me in the eyes of the country world, so I was comfortable asking other country folks to join me in the studio. Mel Tillis, for instance.

  Mel, who’d climbed atop the country charts with such tunes as “I Ain’t Never,” “Good Woman Blues,” “Heart Healer,” “I Believe in You,” “Coca-Cola Cowboy,” and “Southern Rains” had a little theater of his own in Branson, Missouri, so he was easy enough to find. The process was pretty simple: I wrote him a letter asking him to record, and he wrote back with a yes. He came down to the studio and laid down some brilliant vocals on “San Antonio Rose,” our polka’d-up rendition of the classic originally recorded by Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys.

  If I may digress for a moment (and if you’ve read this far, you’re used to my digressions), I’d like to offer a melancholy little story about “San Antonio Rose.” There was a hugely popular TV show out of Austria called Musikantenstadtl, hosted by a gentleman named Karl Moik. Karl was a big fan of our band, and in June 2001, he invited us to play on an edition of the show they were shooting out in New York City. When we got to the set—a café right under the Brooklyn Bridge—the producer told me that I’d be lip-synching “San Antonio Rose.” Now I’d never lip-synched anything in my life, but I was game, even though I’d be mouthing Mr. Tillis’s verses.

  Before we got started, the director had the cameramen position themselves so viewers would be able to see the entire New York skyline over our shoulders, a skyline that still included the World Trade Center towers. When the show aired in Europe in late September of that year, there were the Twin Towers in the background. I’m sure it was tough for some of the viewers to see the now fallen buildings, but there’s a part of me that’s pleased Jimmy Sturr and His Orchestra was documented on film with the New York skyline looking the way it always looks in my dreams.

  And now we continue on a less melancholy note.

  Mel Tillis and Willie Nelson represent merely the tip of my country iceberg. My friend Doyle Brown, who worked as a song pusher for Lawrence Welk Publishing, was a great help in introducing me to artists, including The Oak Ridge Boys. (Song pushers, by the way, help connect songwriters with recording artists, and Doyle was close to the Oaks because he introduced them to Sharon Vaughn, who wrote their first hit, “Y’all Come Back Saloon.”) The Oaks were some of the nicest guys you’ll ever want to meet, and I was especially thrilled when the album they guested on, Dance with Me, won a Grammy. I sure hope they were just as thrilled!

  Some of my special guests weren’t the least bit famous and were happy to stay in the background. One of them in particular became a key component in our day-to-day existence. And he was, of all things, an arranger.

  I’d been writing the majority of my band’s arrangements since the beginning and when I say the beginning, I mean the beginning, all the way back to my teenage days with the Melody Makers. Now, I wasn’t a great arranger, but I got the job done. Deep down, however, I knew that there was somebody else out there who could bring these harmonies and melodies to life with more skill and imagination.

  Jimmy and the Oak Ridge Boys together on The Nashville Network. They had just finished recording an album together.

  Enter Henry Will.

  Henry—who was born Henry Wilczynski—was one of the finest accordion players in all of Connecticut, but he played more than polka. If you had a classical piece, a rock tune, or a country melody that needed a splash accordion, Henry could nail it on the first take, without fail. He played in a number of the best bands in the area, most notably that of Walt Solek’s. (An interesting fact about Henry: He was Richard and Karen Carpenter’s first piano teacher, so you could say that without Henry Will, we might not have enjoyed such pop classics as “Rainy Days and Mondays,” “Close to You,” or “Superstar.”) I eventually found out that in addition to being a terrific musician, Henry was also one heck of an arranger. He had contributed both material and accordion and piano lines to the repertoires of numerous Connecticut polka heavyweights. Which got me thinki
ng—if Henry’s arrangements were good enough for the Walt Soleks of the world, then they were damn sure good enough for me. One phone call later, I was the proud owner of a dozen of Henry’s masterworks.

  I don’t know whether it was a matter of timing or musical synergy, but when we added Henry’s arrangements to our book, things started popping for Jimmy Sturr and His Orchestra. Something about the way he put together these songs captured our fans’ imaginations. There was a sense of naturalness about his charts, and they were so solid that we felt comfortable sight-reading them on the bandstand. In other words, we would often perform them live without having previously rehearsed them. (At times, my arrangements felt forced, and I’d never play one of them during a concert without having had run through them at a rehearsal or three. Heck, I still have nightmares about listening to the same record over and over and over again, trying to figure out what part the saxes should play, what I should give to the trumpets, and the best way to stay true to the original song while making it appeal to our listeners. It took me forever, but Henry could do it in his sleep.) As of 2012, Henry and I are still happily working together. Matter of fact, as soon as I finish writing this chapter, I’m going to get on the phone with him and start figuring out what’s going on the next Jimmy Sturr and His Orchestra CD!

  Henry wasn’t the only person who padded our book. Once in a rare while, another great arranger would fall into my lap.

  I’ve always been a huge fan of a group called Danny Davis and the Nashville Brass. At some point in the mid-1960s, Danny, a trumpeter/vocalist who’d had a couple of hits in the 1950s with “Object of My Affection” and “Crazy Heart,” decided he wanted to put together a band that would perform instrumental versions of country music hits. The band was a smash, nabbing both a Grammy Award—and was nominated for eleven others—and a regular slot on the TV show Hee Haw.

  I was lucky enough to perform a few shows with Danny and his crew, and I was always quite impressed with his drummer, Terry Waddell. When Danny semiretired, Terry moved to Branson, Missouri, where he filled the drum chair for Bobby Vinton’s band. Terry was an excellent arranger in his own right, so I asked him to fill out the remainder of our book with clever instrumental versions of American pop, rock, and country hits by the likes of Steve Miller, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and the Allman Brothers. (Sometimes the folks who hired us to perform at their wedding needed a dose of something of the non-polka variety, and I like to keep the paying customers happy.) Henry and Terry’s combined talents are one of the reasons I’ve been able to keep my shows and records fresh and exciting. I would advise all of you up-and-coming bandleaders to lock down a terrific arranger or two. You, your listeners, and your future record producers will thank me.

  18

  How to Polka-ize a Non-Polka, or More Special Guests, Part Two

  It may seem simple to take a song like Steve Miller’s “Swingtown” and turn it into a polka, but I personally believe there’s an art to it. If it were easy, I suspect more musicians would be doing it, because there are a whole lot of folks out there who would enjoy it.

  Step one: figure out the proper tempo. You might have to slow it down, or more likely speed it up because your typical polka song is generally faster than your typical rock tune. But you can’t speed it up too much because there’s the danger that it’ll sound like a train going downhill without brakes. That rollicking speediness can be exciting, but there’s a time and a place for everything.

  Step two: figure out the logical way to deliver the melody. Sometimes it makes sense to sing the song, but often it’s better to perform it as an instrumental. In my band, we mix it up. Sometimes I’ll sing lead, sometimes I’ll sing harmony, sometimes I’ll play the melody, and sometimes I’ll play a background riff. I’ll do whatever best serves the material, because when you’re covering somebody else’s big hit, you’re better off making it about the song rather than the performance.

  Step three: try and recruit the original artist to perform the song. This isn’t always easy, and when you’re doing the asking, it generally helps to have a couple of Grammy Awards to your name. Having said that, it’s always worth trying, because the worst thing that can happen is the artist will say no. The chances that somebody’s going to smash you over the head with a guitar simply for asking a question are very, very slim.

  I’ve never been afraid to ask, especially if the song will be better served if the singer/composer joins us in the studio. For example, we came up with an arrangement of Duane Eddy’s “Rebel Rouser,” a song I’ve always loved; once I realized that we had to record it, I asked the folks at Rounder Records if they could find out if Duane was still alive. It took a few phone calls for them to learn that Duane was still among the living, situated in Nashville.

  At that point, I took over.

  I looked his name up in the Nashville phonebook—yes, he was listed—gave him a ring, and invited him into the studio. He said, “Jimmy Sturr, I know all about you. My wife and I have seen you on The Nashville Network. Just tell me what time to be at the studio, and I’m there.” Next thing you know, Jimmy Sturr and His Orchestra, with special guest Duane Eddy, cut the world’s first polka-ized version of one of my favorite rock classics.

  Grammy-winning country great Lee Greenwood, the man who recorded such hits as “God Bless the U.S.A.,” “Dixie Road,” “Don’t Underestimate My Love for You,” and “Hearts Aren’t Made to Break (They’re Made to Love),” was another singer who graced one of my records, and our meeting was a serendipitous one: We were both performing, and therefore staying, at the Mohegan Sun casino up in Connecticut. I ran into him in the lobby and on the spur of the moment, invited him to the studio. Much to my surprise, without even batting an eye, Lee said, “I’d love to.” More proof that it never hurts to ask.

  And then there was blues/rock singer/multi-instrumentalist Delbert McClinton, a wonderful live performer who hit it big in 1980 with “Giving It Up for Your Love.”

  And then there was my former labelmate at Rounder, the lovely Alison Krauss.

  And then there was Charlie Daniels, who agreed to come by after a three-minute phone call.

  And then there was Béla Fleck, the astounding banjo player I met at my first trip to the Grammy Awards.

  And then there was my old favorite Ray Price, a country giant among giants who, as of this writing, is still touring and recording at the tender age of eighty-something.

  And then there was Frankie Ford, the self-proclaimed “New Orleans Dynamo” who helped make Shake, Rattle, and Polka!, well, dynamic.

  And then there was the legendary Arlo Guthrie, who joined us on a version of “City of New Orleans,” one of my favorite songs, a song so poignant that it was recorded by everybody from Willie Nelson and John Denver to Judy Collins and Jimmy Sturr.

  And then there was Bobby Vinton, a big fan and great friend of mine who, for some reason, took a lot of convincing before he’d join us in the studio. (It was a heck of a lot easier to get him to write his foreword for this book than it was to get him behind a microphone!)

  And there was Brenda Lee, who beautified the studio when she appeared on one of our records with Willie Nelson. Talk about star power!

  I’m grateful to each and every one of these artists, but there are still a number of other singers I’d like to work with. Off the top of my head, k.d. lang comes to mind, because from what I’ve heard, she’s a huge polka fan. But my white whale would be Bob Dylan, and landing him may not be as unrealistic as you might think, because he recently cut himself a polka tune. So k.d. and Bob, if you’re reading this, please get in touch!

  Bob Dylan and k.d. lang aren’t the only artists I’d love to get into the studio, but in terms of big stars, they’re the most realistic. Those two folks aren’t out of the question, but there are some others who are long shots. It probably won’t surprise you to hear that Steve Miller is right near the top of that list. On the surface, that might not make sense. You might not envision “Jungle Love” or “Fly Like an Eag
le” performed with that 2/4 beat. But from what I know of his music, I suspect Steve enjoys a good polka, so you never know.

  One gentleman who might be a bit harder to nail down than any of these people is Elton John. Elton is an even less likely polka subject than Steve Miller, but he’s a showman; for me, one of the most important aspects of a good polka concert is showmanship. Our band doesn’t merely take the stage, play the songs, and then leave. We want to entertain you. After all, you set your night aside, you’ve gotten a babysitter, and you’ve driven all the way to the show, so the least we can do is give it our all. I can see Elton, right there next to us, doing everything in his power to get the crowd dancing. The only problem might be the clash of styles. Every once in a while, Steve Miller throws a little bit of country into his blues/rock (and as you know by now, country and polka are the perfect marriage), but I’ve never heard a single note from Elton John that would suggest he’d know what to do with a polka. But I’d sure love to hear him try.

  Here’s a name that might surprise you: Lady Gaga. Now, if I’m really honest, I don’t know all that much about Lady Gaga’s music, but from what I’ve seen of her performances on the Grammy Awards, she has as much showmanship as Elton John. (As a matter of fact, one of her Grammy appearances features her playing alongside Elton, and from my perspective, she “outshowmanshipped” him.) I have a gut feeling that there are a good number of people in Gaga’s enormous international audience who, even though they might not know what polka is, would enjoy it. After all, polka is, first and foremost, a type of dance music.