Gus
Cannon [pictured left with Jim Stewart and Sam Phillips in one of the
greatest Memphis music photos ever] is listed at this North Memphis
address in the Memphis city directories in 1928 and 1930, meaning that
"Banjo Joe" slept here next to his wife Corrinne during the time he
recorded a couple dozen brilliant sides for Victor (I think) with his
Cannon's Jug Stompers during the late Twenties and 1930. The property
record card on file with the Shelby County Assessor states that the
home was built in 1917, so this is literally the place. Notably,
Cannon's occupation is listed in the directory as "musician," while his
musical peers in Memphis like Frank Stokes and Furry Lewis are listed
as laborers. Anyone wanting to ride by the house should know that it's occupied, and in a rough neighborhood. Please use equal measures caution and respect if you choose to check it out in person.
Cannon
was born down in the hill country in Red Banks, Mississippi in the
1870s, and migrated west to Clarksdale, Mississippi in the Delta around
the turn of the century. He came to Memphis after that, and traveled
southerly with minstrel or medicine shows. By the time he began his
recording career with some solos for Paramount as "Banjo Joe," Cannon
was a middle-aged man and veteran showman who'd performed in blackface
hocking tonic, and bummed around the Delta contemporaneously to W.C.
Handy's "discovery" of the blues in the early 20th century. Cannon's
records project this combination of ancient and modern, minstrelcy and
blues.
It's little wonder with the amount of road in his
rearview that geography ran through his lyrics to past haunts:
Jonestown and Lula in the Delta in "Jonestown Blues," Madison Street in
the heart of Memphis in "Madison Street Rag," north through Memphis to
the Wolf River, and back out of the city on the Macon Road in "Wolf
River Blues." He discovered a kindred spirit in harpist Noah Lewis who
made his harmonica wail like a train.
Cannon
did something unpredictable for a man of his generation and peer group:
he lived another fifty years after the heyday of early blues recording.
He stayed around Memphis and eventually made more records, including a
brilliant, rusty, twangy relic of an album for Stax in 1963. Only 500
were pressed, so the vinyl is a collector's item. The good news is that
most were sold in the city, so one can occasionally pick one up for a
dollar in a garage sale.
Cannon died in 1979, and was buried back down in the red clay of North Mississippi that he came from a century earlier. The cemetery is about 15 minutes south of Memphis on Interstate 55 near Nesbit. Check it out if you're down spying on Jerry Lee Lewis some time.
