By now everyone is quite familiar with the circumstances, the downward spiral - his drug use, philandering, spousal abuse (both physical and verbal) - leading to Tina’s ultimate split in the mid-70s. If you didn’t read her autobiography I, Tina, you probably saw its adaptation in the 1993 cinematic release, What’s Love Got To Do With It, directed by Brian Gibson and starring Angela Bassett as Tina and Laurence Fishburne, great as the Svengali-like Turner. Interestingly enough, after his release from prison, Turner did not try to reinvent his image by being humble, contrite, repentant, remorseful, etc. In his own memoir published in the UK in 1999, Takin’ Back My Name: The Confessions of Ike Turner, he just simply sloughed off all the allegations and accusations as great exaggerations and went on his merry way.
In fact, despite all the negative press, he had the chutzpah to print a new publicity photo which announced his fan club, “I Still Like Ike.” One of these he autographed and presented to legendary R&B producer Bobby Robinson (Whirlin’ Disk, Red Robin, Fire, Fury, Enjoy records) who now proudly displays it front and center on his “Wall of Fame” in his record shop, Bobby’s Happy House at 2335 8th Ave at 125th St in Harlem.
You would think that as a septuagenarian, he would have mellowed somewhat in his old age, mais au contraire. While on a concert tour a few years ago in the City of Light, he was stiffed by a French promoter/club owner (who will remain nameless). Turner managed to acquire a gun (next to impossible in this country) and settle the affair amicably on his own terms.
So when you hear clichés like the “blues had a baby and they called it rock and roll,” think Ike Turner. That’s why mothers would allow their daughters to bring home a cute, innocuous Paul McCartney but not a Mick Jagger or a Keith Richards, the latter two who owe a debt of gratitude to pioneers like Turner, who may have sold his soul to the devil like Robert Johnson at the crossroads of Highways 49 and 61 (actually Ike’s neighborhood) in order to create immortal blues masterpieces. He may or may not have made a pact with Prince of Darkness, but Turner seemed to have nine lives with a career that spanned country blues, urban blues, soul, funk, and even the dawning of the disco era, not a mean feat. And he never seemed to age, at least not that much. Considering how he took care of himself, he should have become the Picture of Dorian Gray. Yet this Faustian notion seemed to have shadowed him to the end, wherein he was amazingly accepted and even rehabilitated in the eyes of the public without his ever really “fessin up.” In the 2003 Martin Scorsese-produced documentary The Blues: A Musical Journey, in the segment directed by Dick Pierce, The Road To Memphis, Ike Turner in the hallowed Sun Studio in Memphis surprises the worn out and decrepit Sam Phillips just before the latter’s death. When Phillips sees Turner, it’s like he has seen a ghost of Christmas past. And when Phillips inquires about his welfare, Turner ironically replies, “God’s been good to me.”
And Phillips retorts, “Anyone that can keep you so young and pretty for so long has got to be good.”
Yes, Turner was a rogue and scoundrel. But before you write him off as just a minor artist on the R&B landscape of the 50s and 60s, you should know that he was an incredibly significant historical figure in the development of not only urban blues but rock and roll. Love him or loathe him; nonetheless, for his contributions especially to this latter musical revolution, he is deserving of legendary status. He was here, there, and everywhere when it all began.
Ike Turner was born Izear Luster Turner in Clarksdale, MS, on November 15, 1931. Considered a hotbed of the blues, Clarksdale attracted quite a few blues caravans during the late 40s including those of Sonny Boy Williamson (Rice Miller) with partner Robert Jr. Lockwood, Robert Nighthawk, and Pinetop Perkins. And Turner, who took up both guitar and piano in high school, would sit in with these masters whenever they came into town. Moreover, he would spend his formative years hanging out at local radio station WROX, wherein accommodating DJs would let him spin a blues platter or two. In his late teens, with younger cousin on vocals and tenor, Jackie Brenston, he formed the blues band, Kings of Rhythm, a much sought after outfit in the region. One fateful night while the group was playing in Chambers, MS, their normal crowd pleasing performance was witnessed by B.B. King who contacted Sam Phillips in Memphis and suggested that he record this act. Phillips called Turner a few days later and the juke box cover band composed a new song for the occasion on the trip north.
On March 5, 1951, Phillips recorded “Rocket 88” by Jackie Brenston & his Delta Cats with Turner on piano and since he had not quite invented his own label, Sun, leased the master to Chess records of Chicago, where it, as release #1458, would go on to become a monster R&B smash. It is considered (along with Roy Brown’s 1947 “Good Rockin’ Tonight,” Deluxe 1093) the first authentic rock & roll record in that it ushered in the era of car songs - Chuck Berry’s “Maybelline,” Big Boy Groves’s “I Got A New Car,” Oscar McLollie’s “Roll Hot Rod Roll,” etc. -and what they symbolized to teenagers in the 50s - escape, freedom, and of course, sex, a no-tell motel on wheels. In fact, “Rocket 88,” since it had become so iconic in this regard, remains arguably the holy grail of record collectors. Not known to have existed as a 45 rpm, its legitimate reissues command upwards of $5000 apiece. Turner would go on to cut several more Brenston singles for Chess in the same groove but not with the sensational results. And since Turner did not have much of singing voice, Brenston would be among his favored vocalists well into the 60s and Turner’s Sue records stint. By the way, Chess did pick up a vocal by Turner from the original séance, “Heartbroken and Worried,” (#1459) which failed to generate much interest.
To say the least, the 20-year-old Turner made the most of his visit to Memphis, becoming a session musician, band leader, writer, and talent scout. In the latter capacity, he soon thereafter was signed to an arrangement with the Bihari brothers - Saul, Joe, and Jules - who ran the independent (mostly race) labels Modern, RPM, Flair, and Meteor records from 686 N. Robertson St in Los Angeles, CA. This bold career move by the opportunistic Turner was said to have infuriated Sam Phillips to the point that when Turner “discovered” Howlin’ Wolf and steered him to Memphis, Phillips sold the master of Wolf’s first record (on which Turner played guitar), “Moanin’ At Midnight,” to the delighted Chess brothers who released the hit blues record as #1479. Thereafter Howlin’ Wolf, a free agent, with Ike on guitar had to record his subsequent RPM sides in West Memphis, AK, before he finally signed with Chess in late 1952.
As an appraiser of genius for RPM, Modern, and Flair during that time frame, Ike also finagled a contract for himself, recording a good half dozen moderately successful blues singles for the Biharis, including one with his first wife, Bonnie, as vocalist and another under the pseudonym, Lover Boy.
Among the obscure artists that Turner claimed to have brought (and backed as well) to the logo were guitarists Baby Face Turner (Modern), Model “T” Slim (Elmon Mickle, Modern), and Boyd Gilmore (Modern), the aforementioned tenor, Eugene Fox (RPM), harp man Houston Boines (RPM), pianists Dennis Binder (Modern) and Clayton Love (Modern), and vocalist Billy Gayles (Flair).
As in the case of Jackie Brenston, Turner would have extended connections with both Clayton Love and Billy Gayles as singers fronting his own band, the Kings of Rhythm. But Turner would also become associated with some of the Bihari brothers’ big stars during this period, including B.B. King with whom he recorded one of bluesdom’s most enduring numbers, “3 O’Clock Blues” (RPM #339); Elmore James with whom he collaborated on several outstanding Flair releases; Bobby Blue Bland, whom he backed on his second disk ever, “Crying All Night Long” (Modern #848), Little Junior Parker, whom he aided in his inaugural recording, “You’re My Angel” (Modern #864), in 1952 before Parker later found fame and glory on Sun and Duke records, and last, but not least, the tragic Johnny Ace, whom he escorted to Flair for his second effort, “Midnight Hours Journey” (# 1015). And these were just the most noteworthy of his blues accomplishments. For example, he was also instrumental in creating the doo-wop classic, “As Long As I Have You” by the Trojans on RPM (#446) in 1955.
If this activity as scout wasn’t enough to keep him occupied, Ike Turner was also a prodigious session guitarist/pianist particularly for Sam Phillips, who finally founded his storied Sun label in the very early 50s. He appears on Little Milton’s (Campbell) first ever single in 1953, “Beggin’ My Baby” (#194), as well as that of Billy “The Kid” Emerson, “No Teasin’ Around” (#195) in 1954. Johnny on the spot in the studio, he even assisted minor artists like Raymond Hill. Turner, himself, with former wife Bonnie taped a few sides for the famed producer, but they were never issued. Nevertheless, he continued to help Phillips until the latter eschewed the blues in favor of concentrating on Elvis and rockabilly beginning in late 1954.
Hoping for a fresh start, Ike Turner moved upstream to the East St. Louis, IL, area in 1954 and the next year he met Anna Mae Bullock. Born in Brownsville, TN, in 1938 into a large family, she spent her early adolescence in Knoxville where she participated in talent contests and gospel choirs of all configurations. She with her sister also relocated to the St. Louis region in hopes of latching on to an R&B group as vocalist. While hanging out at their favorite watering hole, she spied Ike’s combo one evening and took him up on his offer to sit in with them. In short, Ike, sufficiently wowed by her impromptu performance, immediately made plans to incorporate her into his band, wherein she played a little piano and sang, but at least at the outset in a mostly back-up role.
Still very much the bluesman during the mid-50s, Turner as before took his show on the road playing an endless string of one-nighters. One such junket led to Cincinnati, OH, and Ralph Bass, supervisor of Federal records, a subsidiary of Syd Nathan’s King label at 1540 Brewster Ave. Bass was well aware of Turner’s reputation and urged him to record at the facility there. During the two separate sessions during 1956, five singles were released, including some instrumentals and gut bucket blues vocals showcasing both Clayton Love and Jackie Brenston. However, none of the disks made any serious impact as far as sales were concerned, even when reissued on King in 1961.
But Turner wasn’t quite yet ready to throw in the towel performing his preferred brand of music. On the home front in 1958 in St. Louis, he forged a relationship with Mitchell Herns who operated the labels Joyce, Royal American, and Tune Town. For Joyce, the Kings of Rhythm played behind local vocalist Chuck Bernard. For Royal American and Tune Town, Ike recorded under his own name. His only Tune Town release “Box Top” (#501) was the same number with the catchy mambo beat that he re-recorded a short time later for Eli Toscano and Cobra.
This rare, highly collectible item is also the first time we hear Tina Turner on a recording. Before finally leaving for the Windy City, Turner was also at the disposal as a session musician for the fledgling Bobbin label headed by Bob Lyons at 1722 Washington St, who would soon be acquiring quite a stable of blues luminaries, including Little Milton, Albert King, Oliver Sain, and Fontella Bass.
But after returning from Chicago, Turner could see the handwriting on the wall with regard to the future of blues and began experimenting with other forms of music. Under the thinly disguised pseudonym of Icky Renrut, Turner recorded two C&W flavored singles on the Stevens label in 1959. Understandably, they went nowhere. But soul music was beginning to exert its influence in big cities and Turner, unlike so many bluesmen, was able to make the transition to this more sophisticated genre of R&B. In fact, he had written a few songs in this new style. Now all he needed was a soul label, and hopefully one with an excellent national distribution network.
Through his many connections in the business, he was able to hook up with Henry “Juggy” Murray, a black producer who owned Sue records (Don Covay, Barbara George, Bobby Hendricks, the Matadors, Baby Washington, Jimmy McGriff) at 271 W. 125th St in Harlem. His first attempt as Ike Turner & the Kings of Rhythm, “My Love” (#722), was a flop. However, the next New York trial turned out to be a revelation. Supposedly, Ike had a female vocalist lined up to sing the lead (perhaps Delores Johnson, who recorded for Bobbin) but who didn’t show and Tina, by then married to Ike, volunteered her services. The song, “A Fool In Love” (#730), amply demonstrating Tina’s gospel shouting at its finest, went to #2 on the R&B charts in 1960 and the next year “It’s Going To Work Out Fine” (#749), featuring guitarists Mickey Baker and Sylvia Vanderpool with Washington, D.C.’s TNT Tribble on drums, had a similar, gratifying outcome.
All in all, the Turners recorded seventeen singles for Sue from 1959-66 and at least three more made the R&B top 10 hit parade - “I Idolize You” (# 735, later redone for Spector), “Poor Fool” (#753), and “Tra La La La La” (#757).
Not only were the Turners now big headliners on the “Chitlin’Circuit,” which included the nearby Apollo Theatre, but also their back-up singers and dancers, the Ikettes - Merry Clayton, Venetta Fields, P.P. Arnold, Bonnie Bramlett, just some of the more stellar names among the ever changing personnel - encouraged by Ike, were scoring big sellers of their own on Atco, an Atlantic affiliate, like the funky 1961 “I’m Blue (The Gong-Gong Song)” (#6212) and “Zizzy Zee Zum Zum” in 1962 (#6232). By the way, the former song was utilized in the original 1988 film, Hairspray, by Baltimorean John Waters. Later in 1965, the Ikettes would author two more hits on the Modern label, “Peaches ‘N’ Cream” (#1005) and “I’m So Thankful” (#1011). They would go on to record well into the 70s.
Hoping to cash in on the popularity of the Turners during this period, many labels came to call, some major and some minor, including Warner Bros. and its soul subsidiary, Loma.
Next there was Philles and Phil Spector, who considered the aforementioned “River Deep-Mountain High” his greatest failure; yet it proved to be a blockbuster abroad prompting a visit to England (where the song eventually became #1) and France, where in Paris, the Turners entertained an enthusiastic, sold-out audience at the famous Olympia in 1971.
Although they didn’t have another major hit stateside until the late 60s, it wasn’t for lack of trying, as the dynamic duo tested the waters with a bewildering array of labels - Kent (Modern), Modern, Tangerine (Ray Charles’s label), Cenco, Innis, Sonja, Pompeii (Atlantic), and A&M (reissued Philles material). But by the close of the decade, things were definitely looking up, especially after accompanying the Rolling Stones (who considered them legends) on a U.S. tour. This association in turn led to appearances on the Ed Sullivan, Smothers Brothers, the Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson (five episodes), Soul Train, and Andy Williams programs and even secured them an extended gig at Las Vegas’ International Hotel. In 1969, the Turners had signed with the independent, eclectic Blue Thumb label (Dave Mason, T. Rex, bluesman Nathan Beauregard, Jessie Hill) where they enjoyed two substantial winners - “The Hunter” (#102) and “Bold Soul Sister” (#104). And they continued on a roll after switching to the strictly soul oriented Minit records not long thereafter (thanks to the boost accorded by the Rolling Stones) issuing their rousing rendition of “Honky Tonk Women” (#32087).
Wanting to broaden their mass appeal by joining forces with a major pop label, the Turners in 1970 signed with Liberty (like Minit and the label to follow, UA, was to become part of the Transamerica Corporation) which proved to be a great career move in that a couple of releases - their versions of Sly Stone’s “I Want To Take You Higher” (#56177) and Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Proud Mary” (#56216) - became huge sellers (the latter earned both a gold and Grammy) and really put them over the top and into the public’s eye. At least into the early 70s, they were no less successful when Liberty became UA. Invariably overseen by German-born producer and fan, Gerhard Augustin, and taped at Turner’s Bolic Sound (studio) in Inglewood, CA, the UA singles were slick, clever, and elaborate undertakings with driving dance beats, like Tina’s well received composition in 1973, a tribute to her Tennessee roots - “Nutbush City Limits” (#298). But there were other notable efforts as well, like “Sexy Ida (Part I)” (#528), “I’m Yours” (#50837), “Up In Heah” (#50881), and a raucous, infectious remake of Jessie Hill’s “Ooh Poo Pah Doo” (#50782). Undoubtedly, the major highlight of this era is a concert at Carnegie Hall in New York City, the sheer energy of which was captured on a double album on this label.
But by 1974, things had gone south in a hurry. The Ike &Tina Turner Revue had disbanded as Tina had separated from Ike. Perhaps in an attempt to patch things up between them, Ike produced her solo LP, Acid Queen, in 1975, named after her memorable part in the Ken Russell-directed rock opera, Tommy, of the group, Who. But little did he know then that it would be a premonition of good things to come for her in the future. By 1978, it was truly over for them and they divorced.
As Tina’s career ascended to new heights in the 80s with world-wide wonders like “What’s Love Got To Do With It,” “Private Dancer,” and “We Don’t Need Another Hero,” all on Capitol, Ike’s life was spinning out of control. In 1982 his recording facility, Bolic, burned to the ground.
Not only was he going through yet another messy, costly divorce but also his dependence on alcohol and cocaine was growing at an alarming pace. In 1988, he was arrested in Santa Monica, CA, on a drug possession charge (the last of a series of brushes with the law) for which he served seventeen months in prison beginning in 1989. Because of his incarceration, he could not even attend Tina’s and his own induction ceremony into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, class of 1991.
But a decade later, ostensibly clean and sober, he was well back on the comeback trail with a host of concerts both here and overseas and a Grammy nominated CD, Here and Now, which served to revive his career. In 2006, a second album, the highly acclaimed Risin’ With the Blues, won him a Grammy in the category: Best Traditional Blues Album.
No matter how you might regard Ike Turner, there’s one thing you can’t deny. He lived his life his way. He was his own boss with no regrets. Yes, he was a man of enormous appetites and was violent, self-centered, boorish, and, at times, malevolent. But without him, the body of music so uniquely American, be it blues, rock & roll, or soul, that we know and love (and take for granted) would be far different entity, in actuality, unimaginably transformed and reduced in scope. For that reason alone he should be remembered in a different light. And also for that reason alone, despite his major shortcomings as a person, we should all cut Ike Turner some major slack.
----Larry Benicewicz, B.B.S.
(1931-2007)