The lost session of King Biscuit Boy
GO
RICHARD NEWELL
was in his prime, mid-thirties and acknowledged as one of the best blues players in the country.
As a harmonica player, some argued he was the best in the world. In his stage persona of King Biscuit Boy, he had already had his brushes with fame — working with Ronnie Hawkins, then Crowbar and finally a solo artist, recording in New Orleans with legendary producer Allen Toussaint and keyboard player Dr. John (Mac Rebennack).
It was 1981, however, and blues was on the wane. Newell was between record labels and spending much of his time at home on the central Mountain, where he was born and bred. A couple of ambitious young Hamilton musicians saw an opportunity to put some shine on King Biscuit Boy’s lustre, while giving their own fledgling careers a kick-start.
Darcy Hepner, an extraordinarily talented saxophone player, had just returned to his hometown of Hamilton after receiving his master’s in music at the University of Miami. He was anxious to put his learning to constructive use. Hepner met Bob Johnston, a.k.a. “Georgie Fab,” who was working as a sound engineer, recording jingles mostly, at a studio in a house on East 42nd Street near 9th Avenue.
They decided to bring Newell into the studio, provide him with some top musicians including a full horn section, and cut an album. It would be so good, no label would resist it. Johnston pawned his guitar and amp to pay for the first sessions, borrowed money from friends for the rest.
Over the next few weeks, they recorded some of the best tracks Newell ever put down. His vocals were astonishingly good and the horn arrangements gave it a full bodied flavour that made King Biscuit Boy sound new and fresh. The 10 tracks were ththat good, indeed.
Unfortunately, the labels found their reasons to ignore them. The session tapes were sent to Grant Avenue Studios to be copied. Nobody bothered to pick them up. They were sent down to the basement for storage, where they would sit for almost 35 years.
Newell went on to a recording deal with the respected independent label Stony Plain Records where he made a series of successful albums that garnered him a Juno nomination. He died in 2002 at the age of 58. An annual benefit concert has been held ever since to raise money for a Mohawk College scholarship fund in his name.
A couple of years ago, Grant Avenue co-owner Bob Doidge was cleaning out the studio’s basement to prepare for a renovation. He came across the lost sessions and gave Johnston and Hepner a call. Come get them.
Johnston and Hepner were now two middle-aged guys, steeped in the lore of Hamilton music history. Hepner is teaching jazz at Mohawk College after an impressive career that included a stint with Blood, Sweat and Tears.
It had been a long time ago, but they both remembered the King Biscuit Boy sessions well and were anxious to hear them again. The tapes were brittle and needed careful restoration before mastering. Veteran recording engineer Nick Blagona, who owns a studio in Caledonia, was enlisted to do the work. It came out golden.
“Richard was really thrilled because he had never done anything with horns before,” said Hepner. “He was a purist. He knew exactly what he wanted.”
At the time, Johnston and Hepner had chalked up their King Biscuit Boy sessions as a learning experience. But now they heard them with the clarity of hindsight. These recordings were special. The public deserved to hear them.
Again putting up their own money, Johnston and Hepner have finally released a limited edition CD of the 1981 recordings: “King Biscuit Boy, The Lost Session 1981.” Included on the album are “Bad Luck Soul,” “Hard to Handle,” “Mama Loochie,” “Georgia Slop,” “Let the Good Times Roll,” “Blue Light Boogie,” “Hard Times” and “Goodnight.”
A small number are available to local blues fans at Dr. Disc on Wilson Street. Once the CDs are sold, Johnston and Hepner are considering making the tracks available for purchase on line.
“We’re very proud of this record,” says Hepner. “At this point we’re just looking for closure.”