scat, burn, sing
The era of classic women blues singers spanned roughly from 1920 to 1930 and was dominated by such giants Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith, Ethel Waters, Sippie Wallace and Alberta Hunter, to name just a few. Without a doubt, my favorite singer of that era is Ida Cox; a fiercely lyrical and independent woman who penned such classic blues songs as "Wild Woman Don't Have the Blues;" as well as making famous one of the greatest songs of all times, "One Hour Mama."
"I'm a one hour Mama/ so no one minute Papa/ ain't the kind of man for me …"
(Of the many covers of this song I adore, Lavay Smith & Her Red Hot Skillet Lickers, do a fabulous job).
Between these four lips and this kiss. Between
these toes and the rain. Between wild sumac
and the grapevine. Between the clear morphine
drip and the radio I would come back
as Ms. Ida Cox. Spreading blue dog booze
on “My Mean Man Blues,” “St. Louis Blues,” “Black
Crepe Blues” and “Wild Woman Don't Have the Blues.”
To make laughter sigh. To make a wisecrack
out of death and loss and love. I say, get
up. I say, get up. I say, sing “Gypsy
Glass Blues.” I say, rise from the dead, shadow
sigh “no more, no more.” You are alive, wet
with song, Ida. Scat, burn, sing. You carry
the scent of the grave everywhere you go.
Ms. Ida Cox