12/29/2023
This publicity photo for the Muddy Waters - James Cotton - Johnny Winter album Hard Again popped up. I had not seen it before, but I was in the room when music photographer David Gahr took it. I played guitar on the album. So many Blues lovers love this album. Here are the liner notes I wrote for the Legacy Edition reissue about 20 years ago. Paul Nelson Muddy Waters Mojo Museum Bill Morganfield
HARD AGAIN AGAIN by Bob Margolin
Hard Again celebrates the exciting rise in energy and power near the end of Muddy Watersâ career, and the beginning of his collaboration with Johnny Winter. It is also an important historical Blues album because it attracted so many young people to Muddy and Blues music in general, the gateway to a lifetime of soulful musical pleasure. This reissue may do the same for a new generation of Blues fans, while offering its original devotees a sentimental look back at their old favorite. It takes us back to a simpler, more innocent time when 62-year-old Muddy, already a legend for his 1950s and â60s Chicago Blues, could have retired or coasted on his reputation. But instead he kicked ass, hard, again.
This Legacy reissue includes one unreleased out-take from the sessions, a powerful âWalkinâ Through The Park.â The only other out-take recorded at the October, 1976 sessions was an acoustic version of âFeel Like Goinâ Homeâ which was released on Muddyâs final album, King Bee, in 1981. The reissue of King Bee is released at the same time as this one.
Hard Again was originally released in January, 1977 on Blue Sky, a boutique label affiliated with Columbia Records and owned by Johnny Winterâs manager at the time, Steve Paul (also known for his legendary â60s New York music club, The Scene). Muddy had recorded for Chess Records since the early â50s and was loyal to them, but by 1976, Chess had been sold to a corporation. With his contract fulfilled and nobody from the Chess family associated with the company, Muddy took the opportunity conceived by his friend and fan, Johnny Winter. Johnny had become Rock-Star-famous in the late-â60s playing high-energy Blues and RockânâRoll. He wanted to use his popularity to bring more recognition to Muddy, and to work closely with him to make an album that would celebrate the raw, deep Blues that both of them loved.
I played guitar in Muddyâs road band at the time of the recording and on this album and co-produced this Legacy Edition. Around the time this album was recorded, a Blues fan gave Muddy a box of 78 and 45 RPM phonograph records, his classic early â50s Chess singles. Muddy said they were like âold friends,â and treasured them. I feel that way about this recording and while I work on the music and write these notes, Muddy is more than hard again in the â70s â heâs alive again now. As you listen and rock, heâll be back strong for you too.
We have not remixed this album. The out-take âWalkinâ Through The Parkâ was mixed for the first time here, to match the sound of the rest of the album. Johnny Winterâs original conception and mixes hold up well and are the way those who love this album remember it. We have remastered it though, which reveals more clarity and improved bass response over the original vinyl version and the first CD release. Johnny Winterâs production is, I believe, one of the most distinctive and attractive features of the album. Johnny loved the old Blues records that inspired him and was frustrated with modern recordings that seemed to lose their soul and excitement. Johnny very deliberately set out to recapture the âold schoolâ of Blues recording, and he succeeded dramatically. The sound of this album lends it a live personality.
Hard Again was recorded at The Schoolhouse in Westport, Connecticut, a professional home studio owned by bass player and pop artist Dan Hartman (now deceased). It was a large, warm-sounding room of painted wood. In contrast to most recordings from those days, all of the musicians played at the same time in the same room. There were no isolation booths and relatively little baffling between the drums, piano, and the separate instrument amplifiers. Muddy sat in the middle of the room where he could hear and see everyone easily. He didnât want to use headphones but his voice was monitored by a feed from the control room to a small guitar amplifier nearby â just enough so he could hear himself without strain. This certainly meant that sound from the instruments and amplifiers leaked into each otherâs microphones, but the loss of isolation and control was more than offset by the pleasant sound of that room. What you hear sounds like what I heard as we played, not as if you had seven ears and each one was right next to a piano, a guitar or harp amp, the drum kit, or Muddyâs mouth. In addition, though this was retro-radical, two microphones were placed on booms near the ceiling in the center of the room, recording the sound of the room ambience. Added judiciously to the mix, the sound from these mics reflects the playersâ Blues physically and spiritually, and the real, live good time we had making these recordings.
The only drawback of The Schoolhouse studio was that the control room was upstairs from the studio room, rather than separated from it only by glass as with most studios. Johnny was, of course, playing guitar on every song, but after most takes, he had to switch to his producer role and listen to the playback upstairs to judge the performance. He had to climb those stairs, probably several dozen times and then descend to play again each of the three days we recorded. I remember mid-30âs Johnny remarking that those stairs were getting old.
The musicians for this recording were chosen by Muddy. Johnny played guitar, of course, and James Cotton was featured on harp. Cotton had played in Muddyâs band from the mid-â50s to mid-â60s. Always considered to be one of the best Blues harp players, Cotton was a star since he started his own band and delivered a high-energy Blues that borrowed some power from Rock music. He told me that when he was in Muddyâs band in the â50s, he was frustrated that Muddy still used harp genius Little Walter on his recordings, and that Cotton watched Walter in the studio and then had to learn Walterâs parts faithfully for the live shows. Now, Cotton was the featured veteran and he was gratified by it and rose to the occasion. On Cottonâs recommendation, Muddy used Charles Calmese on bass, from Cottonâs band. Charles was the youngest of us, 24 at the time, and was a relatively modern-style Blues bass player. But the fire in his playing helped drive the music, even if it was at the expense of a more traditional bass tone and approach. Charles was a 1976, not 1956, player. Sadly, he lost his life in a 1988 car wreck.
The rest of the players were from Muddyâs road band. Willie âBig Eyesâ Smith had played off-and-on in Muddyâs band since the late â50s. Not only was he one of the all-time great Blues drummers, but he had an instantly recognizable personal style. His fills, dynamics, and unrelenting deep groove drove the rest of us. Pinetop Perkins followed Otis Spann in Muddyâs band in 1969. Itâs fair to say that Spann was irreplaceable because he was such a big part of Muddyâs music and many still consider him to be literally the best Blues piano player ever. But Pinetop was older than Spann and he brought his own experience and trademark sound. He is the real Pinetop Perkins, not a fake Spann. Pinetop had worked with the original King Biscuit Boys in Helena, Arkansas and become a senior mainstay of the Chicago scene, having worked with brilliant slide guitarists Robert Nighthawk and Earl Ho**er. He and Muddy were both raised in Mississippi around the same time and they were close friends for that and the Blues they played together. Though weâd expect less âhardâ and âagainâ from a 63-year-old, Pinetopâs youthful exuberance was undiminished. Time testifies that his tank was nowhere near empty, for he still throws down strong on the bandstand in 2004 at age 90. Pinetop enjoys his status as the worldâs premier living legendary Blues piano player and when heâs introduced at his shows today, his fans rush the stage like he was Elvis, to be closer and to snap photos.
By the time of this recording Iâd been playing guitar in Muddyâs band for three years. I was originally hired because he had heard me trying to play old school Chicago Blues in bands that had opened for him. His friendship and encouragement and playing on shows with him are my biggest musical thrill. When he invited me to join his band in 1973 I knew it was an opportunity to play the Blues I loved the most and learn it directly from the source on the bandstand. It was a break that shaped the rest of my life. I always felt that it was my first duty to give Muddy what he wanted musically, to the best of my ability to perceive it and talent to play it. Since leaving Muddyâs band, Iâve tried to use his generous foundation to both carry on his style and to develop my own music, but at the time of these recordings, my reason for living was simply to play nasty old Blues on a guitar and make Muddy happy. I was always aware of the irony that he paid me to do that, and though I did everything I could for him while he lived, and have tried to honor him since, I owe him then, now, and forever. Though Iâm working on this reissue for Legacy and ultimately for you, and Muddyâs been gone since 1983, Iâm using everything I know about Blues and production and writing and Muddyâs preferences to aim towards pleasing Muddy. And thatâs hard, again, because Muddyâs standards were both deep and high.
The night before the sessions were to begin, in October, 1976, the musicians converged on New York City for the short drive to the studio in Connecticut. Muddy, Willie, Pinetop, and I flew in from a gig in Newfoundland and Muddy and Pinetop were driven right to the Howard Johnson motel in Stratford, Connecticut to rest. Johnny Winter was already there. Willie and I rented a car and drove to Kennedy Airport to wait for Cotton and Charles to arrive on a flight from Vancouver. Cotton was not crazy about flying and stepped off the plane with an empty whiskey bottle in his shoulder bag and a time-to-party attitude. I tried to tell him Muddy would be expecting us to get to the hotel as soon as possible and rest for the session, which impressed Cotton not at all. He directed Willie to drive us into New York City and we went to the house of some friend of his whom I didnât know.
We soon found out that â20s Blues singer Victoria Spivey, a.k.a. âQueen Victoria,â the Grand Old Lady of the New York City Blues scene, had just passed away. A Blues wake came together in her honor at a club that was very close to where we were and as we set out to go there, I told Cotton that we needed to at least call Muddy to let him know we were alright. I found the number of the hotel and rang Muddy in his room. When I told him we were in The City with Cotton, Muddy immediately knew what that meant and started bellowing. âHereâs Cotton...â I escaped brightly, and handed the phone to James. I could still hear Muddy roaring as James laughed into the mouthpiece, the earpiece away from his head, âHey, Old Man, weâre going to make a great record!â and hung up on Muddy.
At the club, so many Blues players were already there -- Mark Wenner from Washington D.C.âs Nighthawks, piano monster David Maxwell from Boston, and Muddyâs late-â60s harp player, Paul Oscher from Brooklyn, as well as all the regulars of the New York scene. We jammed all night to honor Queen Victoria. Just the year before, in the dressing room at one of Muddyâs shows at The Bottom Line, she had pulled my 26-year-old ass down on her lap and told me to be nice to an old lady. I fully respected her as a Queen of the Blues and was proud to sit there for a few seconds, though it must have looked pretty funny.
We got to the hotel in Connecticut at about 5:00 a.m. and went to the studio to set up at 10:00 am. That first day, we just checked sounds for the recording and got ready to start fresh the next day, so our previous late night didnât really hurt us at all, and Muddyâs anger didnât last. But after weâd set up, I stayed at the studio late to hang with Johnny and try to be helpful to him in his capacity as the albumâs producer. I had been a fan of his music since hearing his â60s albums, but as we really got to know each other for the first time that night, I found him to be the way he always was to me: a Blues lover and Blues guitar player who just wanted to enjoy it and play it with someone who feels the same way. (Thatâs my answer to the question, âWhat was it like to work with Johnny Winter?â)
I donât need to elaborate on what a good time we had making this album -- itâs abundantly obvious when you listen to the songs and the talk in between. Before the sessions, Muddy had mentioned to me that he had played harp in Mississippi before he started to play guitar. I asked him if he thought he could still play and he replied that he did. I told him Iâd buy him a harp if heâd use it on a song and I did, but he blew a couple of notes on it and then never used it. That harp resided in my guitar case for years after. Whatâs worse is that though Muddy was certainly one of the greatest Blues guitar players ever, he did not pick a note on Hard Again. His red Fender Telecaster guitar, which he called âThe Hossâ (he used the same nickname for manhood) sat tuned and plugged into his amplifier next to him throughout the entire session. Muddy never picked it up though, and Johnny and I played all the guitars on the album. I remember a review from when the album was originally released, which remarked that Muddyâs slide playing sounded fresh and powerful, but it was Johnny playing.
In January of â77, just before this album was released, Muddyâs band and Johnny Winter were flown to a Columbia Records convention in Atlanta. We performed together for the record company and the press, introducing them to the album. A reporter asked Muddy and Johnny why the album was called Hard Again. Johnny began to give a musical explanation, but Muddy explained that the album âmade my little pee-pee hard again!â and made a playful grab at Johnny. By then, they were good friends and went on to collaborate on three more albums together.
But first, the next month, we began a two-month tour featuring everyone who had played on the album, called âAn Evening of Blues with Johnny Winter, Muddy Waters, and James Cotton.â Some of those shows were recorded live and some of the performances were featured on the Muddy âMississippiâ Waters Live album, which was released three years later. Immediately following the tour for Hard Again, Johnny used the same musicians to record his own Blue Sky album, Nothing But The Blues. Muddyâs next album, before the live album, was Iâm Ready, which featured Chicago Blues legends Jimmy Rogers and Big Walter Horton. A Legacy reissue of that is released at the same time as this reissue, and it features some spectacular out-takes which will be heard for the first time since they were recorded in 1978.
Still, the musical success and widespread recognition of Hard Again were perhaps the most noteworthy event in the Blues World in the late â70s. You may have heard Muddy singing âIâm Readyâ on a Vi**ra commercial recently, but his musical fire and the virility that drove it are right here for you. âMannish Boyâ indeed.
