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It might sound like a cliché to say that there never was and never will be another musician like Snooks Eaglin. But when it comes to talking about this wonderfully talented and equally eclectic New Orleans guitarist and vocalist, nothing could be truer. Snooks Eaglin, the man who Allen Toussaint dubbed the "human jukebox," died Wednesday, February 18, 2009, at the age of 72.
Whether it was your first or thousandth time hearing Eaglin, the guitarist never failed to amaze. Even the guys in the band, including longtime associates like bassist George Porter, would look on with amused awe when Eaglin would rip into a tune, change course, and land wherever he wanted. Likewise, a set might begin with one of the guitarist's early gems like the cascading "Young Boy Blues," head to the Earl King-penned "Teasin' You, " hit on the crowd pleasing "Drop the Bomb" and wrap up on a mind-boggling version of "Malaguena." "Y'all hear that," Eaglin would yell to the crowd with a knowing smile on his face. He expected, no, good-naturedly demanded, a response. He enjoyed interacting with an audience that was further apparent in his penchant for asking and performing requests from an audience.
"He was on all the time," says Hammond Scott, co-owner, with his brother Nauman, of the Black Top label that helped boost Eaglin's career in the 1980s. "It was almost like he was a guy who couldn't make a mistake on the guitar and if he did, it was a cool one. Somebody later on might try to play it on purpose," he adds with a laugh.
Being blind since infancy could, in part explain Eaglin's totally unorthodox approach to picking and strumming guitar. His father gave him his first instrument at age five and as a youngster he picked up songs he heard on the radio. His "big ears" sustained him throughout his career.
Scott remembers one of the guys on a studio session remarking that it was if Eaglin had antenna. "If he was learning a tune and you were going through it, he could anticipate a chord change," Scott says. "He could feel where things were going."
Because of his comical nature, Eaglin acquired the nickname Snooks, referring to a mischievous radio character Baby Snooks. He was only 16 when he began playing with an R&B band, the Flamingos, that also included pianist Allen Toussaint. It was at a Flamingos' gig that he met his future wife, Dee, who he married in 1961.
It's Eaglin's guitar on James "Sugarboy" Crawford's 1954 classic "Jock-A-Mo" and he was back in the studio in 1958 when, after being discovered playing on the streets of the French Quarter by folklorist Harry Oster, he recorded New Orleans Street Singer on Folkways Records. The liner notes on the CD re-release describe Eaglin as "the pantheon of the eccentric, uncategorizable guitar virtuoso." The 1960s found him recording as Ford Eaglin on the Imperial label.
It was on those early 45 r.p.m.s that Scott first heard Snooks. He also got to check out the guitarist when he was playing regularly with Professor Longhair. "There was a period of time when you'd see Professor Longhair, you'd see Snooks," Scott says. "Some people thought that Snooks was Longhair's guitarist."
The two are heard together on Fess' album House Party New Orleans Style-The Lost Sessions, which was recorded in 1971-73 and finally released on the Rounder label in 1987.
"Snooks and Fess were good friends and we used to go out to his house in Avondale," says conga player Alfred "Uganda" Roberts who recorded with Eaglin on releases by Professor Longhair as well as the Wild Magnolias. His drums were on stage when Snooks was in Professor Longhair's band in the early days of Tipitina's.
"He had a percussion style of hitting that guitar something like Fess had a percussion style playing the piano," Roberts says. "He played that guitar like it was more than a guitar. He was always a nice guy whenever you'd see him - him and his wife." Roberts also remembers Eaglin always having a good time in the studio. "When it was time to put a track down, there would be no track two, track three, it was always a number one hit."
Roberts describes playing with the dynamic duo of Snooks and Fess as educational and inspirational. "Everything was on the one. It was a lot of spiritual playing."
As it did for so many New Orleans musicians, Jazz Fest helped rejuvenate Eaglin's career. His association with Black Top, which released five outstanding albums from 1987 through 1996, really put the guitarist back on the map. He was in great demand and traveled extensively both nationally and internationally. This despite the fact that he commanded a healthy paycheck, required that his wife and usually one of the Scott brothers to accompany him and, because of religious beliefs, that he wouldn't perform on Saturdays.
Scott laughs when he remembers people watching he and Snooks' wife Dee "dragging" Eaglin through airports. "He would have those earphones - big earphones - on his head. He looked a little bit like he was from outer space."
In more recent years, Eaglin, who was concerned about terrorism, particularly following the September 11 attacks, preferred sticking close to home. "They were fearful of that kind of thing," Scott explains.
So in his later years, Eaglin's only appearances were at Jazz Fest and at Rock 'n Bowl, which he adopted as his headquarters.
While Scott savors the time he spent with Eaglin at gigs and in the studio, he relishes those nights when after dinner with Snooks and Dee they'd all end up at his house and Eaglin would pull out his guitar.
"A good thing about those occasions was that a lot of times he would get an idea of what song he wanted to record," Scott remembers. "We used him quite a bit as a session musician too," he adds. "Any time you had Snooks on a session, it always worked. It really lit his imagination. He'd just come up with something that really surprised you."
Scott admired the relationship that Eaglin and his wife enjoyed and how much fun Dee had at her husband's gigs. "Their relationship was a wonderful thing to observe," he says. He also admired Eaglin - as well as Black Top label mate, Earl King - for his lack of professional jealousy. "They were both big fans of other people's music.
"I'm just glad I was in the right place at the right time," Scott says of being able to record and share time with Eaglin. "The wilder the fun, the more he enjoyed it," Scott says of the gregarious Eaglin.
The wonderfully eclectic Snooks Eaglin, the Professor Longhair of guitar, is gone. We'll miss everything about this special man and especially him asking us, "Did y'all hear that?" We hear you Snooks.
This article was originally published in the February 23, 2009 print edition of The Louisiana Weekly newspaper |
