The premier
blues shouter of the postwar era,
Big Joe Turner's roar could rattle the very foundation of any gin joint he sang within -- and that's without a microphone.
Turner was a resilient figure in the history of
blues -- he effortlessly spanned
boogie-woogie,
jump blues, even the first wave of
rock & roll, enjoying great success in each genre.
Turner, whose powerful physique certainly matched his vocal might, was a product of the swinging, wide-open Kansas City scene. Even in his teens, the big-boned
Turner looked entirely mature enough to gain entry to various K.C. niteries.
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He ended up simultaneously tending bar and singing the
blues before hooking up with boogie piano master
Pete Johnson during the early '30s. Theirs was a partnership that would endure for 13 years.
As 1938 came to a close,
Turner and
Johnson waxed the thundering "Roll 'Em Pete" for Vocalion. It was a thrilling up-tempo number anchored by
Johnson's crashing 88s, and
Turner would re-record it many times over the decades.
Turner and
Johnson waxed their seminal
blues "Cherry Red" the next year for Vocalion with trumpeter
Hot Lips Page and a full combo in support. In 1940, the massive shouter moved over to Decca and cut "Piney Brown Blues" with
Johnson rippling the ivories. But not all of
Turner's Decca sides teamed him with
Johnson; Willie "The Lion" Smith accompanied him on the mournful "Careless Love," while Freddie Slack's Trio provided backing for "Rocks in My Bed" in 1941.
Turner ventured out to the West Coast during the war years, building quite a following while ensconced on the L.A. circuit. In 1945, he signed on with National Records and cut some fine small combo platters under Herb Abramson's supervision.
Turner remained with National through 1947, belting an exuberant "My Gal's a Jockey" that became his first national
R&B smash. Contracts didn't stop him from waxing an incredibly risqué two-part "Around the Clock" for the aptly named Stag imprint (as
Big Vernon!) in 1947. There were also solid sessions for Aladdin that year that included a wild vocal duel with one of
Turner's principal rivals,
Wynonie Harris, on the ribald two-part "Battle of the Blues."
Few West Coast indie labels of the late '40s didn't boast at least one or two
Turner titles in their catalogs. The shouter bounced from RPM to Down Beat/Swing Time to MGM (all those dates were anchored by
Johnson's piano) to Texas-based Freedom (which moved some of their masters to Specialty) to Imperial in 1950 (his New Orleans backing crew there included a young
Fats Domino on piano). But apart from the 1950 Freedom 78, "Still in the Dark," none of
Turner's records were selling particularly well. When Atlantic Records bosses Abramson and Ahmet Ertegun fortuitously dropped by the Apollo Theater to check out
Count Basie's band one day, they discovered that
Turner had temporarily replaced Jimmy Rushing as the
Basie band's frontman, and he was having a tough go of it. Atlantic picked up his spirits by picking up his recording contract, and
Turner's heyday was about to commence.
At
Turner's first Atlantic date in April of 1951, he imparted a gorgeously world-weary reading to the moving
blues ballad "Chains of Love" (co-penned by Ertegun and pianist
Harry Van Walls) that restored him to the uppermost reaches of the
R&B charts. From there, the hits came in droves: "Chill Is On," "Sweet Sixteen" (yeah, the same downbeat
blues B.B. King's usually associated with;
Turner did it first), and "Don't You Cry" were all done in New York, and all hit big.
Turner had no problem whatsoever adapting his prodigious pipes to whatever regional setting he was in. In 1953, he cut his first
R&B chart-topper, the storming rocker "Honey Hush" (later covered by
Johnny Burnette and
Jerry Lee Lewis), in New Orleans, with trombonist Pluma Davis and tenor saxman Lee Allen in rip-roaring support. Before the year was through, he stopped off in Chicago to record with slide guitarist
Elmore James' considerably rougher-edged combo and hit again with the salacious "T.V. Mama."
Prolific Atlantic house writer Jesse Stone was the source of
Turner's biggest smash of all, "Shake, Rattle and Roll," which proved his second chart-topper in 1954. With the Atlantic braintrust reportedly chiming in on the chorus behind
Turner's rumbling lead, the song sported enough pop possibilities to merit a considerably cleaned-up cover by
Bill Haley & the Comets (and a subsequent version by
Elvis Presley that came a lot closer to the original leering intent).
Suddenly, at the age of 43,
Turner was a
rock star. His jumping follow-ups -- "Well All Right," "Flip Flop and Fly," "Hide and Seek," "Morning, Noon and Night," "The Chicken and the Hawk" -- all mined the same good-time groove as "Shake, Rattle and Roll," with crisp backing from New York's top session aces and typically superb production by Ertegun and Jerry Wexler.
Turner turned up on a couple episodes of the groundbreaking TV program Showtime at the Apollo during the mid-'50s, commanding center stage with a joyous rendition of "Shake, Rattle and Roll" in front of saxman Paul "Hucklebuck" Williams' band. Nor was the silver screen immune to his considerable charms:
Turner mimed a couple of numbers in the 1957 film Shake Rattle & Rock (
Fats Domino and Mike "Mannix" Connors also starred in the flick).
Updating the pre-war number "Corrine Corrina" was an inspired notion that provided
Turner with another massive seller in 1956. But after the two-sided hit "Rock a While"/"Lipstick Powder and Paint" later that year, his Atlantic output swiftly faded from commercial acceptance. Atlantic's recording strategy wisely involved recording
Turner in a jazzier setting for the adult-oriented album market; to that end, a Kansas City-styled set (with his former partner
Johnson at the piano stool) was laid down in 1956 and remains a linchpin of his legacy.
Turner stayed on at Atlantic into 1959, but nobody bought his violin-enriched remake of "Chains of Love" (on the other hand, a revival of "Honey Hush" with
King Curtis blowing a scorching sax break from the same session was a gem in its own right). The '60s didn't produce too much of lasting substance for the shouter -- he actually cut an album with longtime admirer
Haley and his latest batch of
Comets in Mexico City in 1966!
But by the tail end of the decade,
Turner's essential contributions to
blues history were beginning to receive proper recognition; he cut LPs for BluesWay and Blues Time. During the '70s and '80s,
Turner recorded prolifically for Norman Granz's
jazz-oriented Pablo label. These were super-relaxed impromptu sessions that often paired the allegedly illiterate shouter with various
jazz luminaries in what amounted to loosely run jam sessions.
Turner contentedly roared the familiar lyrics of one or another of his hits, then sat back while somebody took a lengthy solo. Other notable album projects included a 1983 collaboration with
Roomful of Blues, Blues Train, for Muse. Although health problems and the size of his humongous frame forced him to sit down during his latter-day performances,
Turner continued to tour until shortly before his death in 1985. They called him the Boss of the Blues, and the appellation was truly a fitting one: when
Turner shouted a lyric, you were definitely at his beck and call. ~ Bill Dahl, All Music Guide
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