Andre Williams

Excerpts from a conversation with
Andre 'Mr Rhythm' Williams
By Dan Epstein
Andre Williams * Read the whole article in UGLY THINGS #17Andre Williams* see - Andre Williams
 

Andre Williams is, to put it mildly, The Man. Though not generally recognized by masses, he's held in quasi-divine esteem by fans of low-down R&B, and for good reason: Andre has been putting his warped sensibilities on wax since the mid-1950s, when he recorded such greasy gems as 'Bacon Fat' and 'Jailbait' for Detroit's Fortune label. The ensuing decades found him writing and producing for the likes of Motown, Mar-V-Lus (Alvin Cash & The Crawlers' 'Twine Time' and The Five Du-Tones' 'Shake A Tail Feather' were two of Andre's finest mid-60s achievements), Chess and Duke, before descending into drug hell and winding up homeless on the streets of Chicago. His fortunes picked up again with the recording of 1996's Fat Back & Corn Liquor CD for the St George label, which Norton released on vinyl as Greasy (Norton also released the awesome 'Daddy Rollin' Stone'/'Gin' 45, whose B-side made the bold statement that gin actually 'tastes mighty fine on pancakes.')

Now, at the ripe old age of 61 or 64 (depending on who you talk to), Andre is back, relatively clean, and just as dapper as ever -- not to mention sleazy.

ANDRE: I'm gonna tell you something, Dan; back then, it was a struggle! Back then, all of my peers said, 'Oh, that nigger can't sing!' You know, I was the only one talkin' that stuff, and Fortune was a small label. Right now, I'm bigger than I was at my highest point in '59 and '60; I'm makin' more money in one night than I was makin' in a month; it's just a complete different turnaround. And now that I see that these kids, when I go to play at a club, the club is packed, and I got people from 18 years-old to 50 in the club! Man, I guess I'm just getting the blessings from my mother. She died when I was six, when we was in the projects in Chicago. I remember when she died, she was telling my aunties, 'Take care of Zeffrey' -- that's my first name -- 'cuz she knew I was a real somethin' different kinda little guy. Maybe she was just lookin' down on me, man, because I never thought I would live to get 61 years-old. Number two: I never thought that I would see the stage again. Number three, I never thought I'd get this kind of attention; I never thought I'd look as well as I look. Everything that I never thought would happen, is happening.
UT:Spending all that time in the studio (in the '50s) probably also taught you how to make records...
ANDRE:Yeah; not only figuring out how records was made, it brought me to the realization that I could write! I didn't have no prior musical training, but I could put those damn songs together in five or ten minutes. I could get a guitar player and a drummer, get me a drink or smoke me a half a joint, and BAM -- I could come up with a song. But it was always something related to something in my life that I had seen or done, or seen somebody else do. I never wrote fantasy. Everything that I've ever written relates to something that I have been indirectly or directly connected with.

Now the inspiration for the 'Bacon Fat' thing, let me run that down to you. With all these guys singing acapella, I knew I couldn't cut the mustard with that. I've always been a survivor; I've always been able to look ahead and see disaster coming. I said to myself, 'Andre, you gon' have to come up with a gimmick, or these people are gonna spot you, and you gonna go down the tubes, because you cannot sing like these people. You ain't no Clyde McPhatter, you ain't no Nolan Strong, you ain't Pookie Hudson, you cannot sing like these guys. You gotta come up with somethin'.' So, I'm going down to Memphis, because at that time I was playing the Flamingo Club quite often; I was jumpin' from Detroit to Memphis every five or six weeks. I was drivin' down to Memphis, it's daytime, I stop at the Mason- Dixon line, right at Covington, Kentucky, and I get me a bacon and egg on toast sandwich. I got it in my lap, and I'm drivin'. Now, I'm looking over, and I'm seein' these cotton pickers, you know, picking cotton in the fields with the sacks on they backs. I'm eatin' this bacon sandwich, I'm passin', I'm drivin', I'm hummin' to myself, 'Hey man, glad to see you back, we got a little thing called' - and I look in my lap and see this sandwich - 'Bacon Fat!' So it hits me and I write the song, 'Bacon Fat,' right? When I gets back to Detroit, I say, 'Miss Brown, I think I got a couple of songs I want to record.' I didn't have no other songs, really; usually, I'd tell her I had something, and by the time her and Jack set up the microphones, I'd have scribbled something on some napkins, so I'd have something to record. Well, that night, Ernie Durham, who was a disk jockey in Detroit -- 'Frantic Ernie' was what we called him - was at the studio at the time. Actually, he was in the record shop, because we recorded in the back of the record shop. Nobody knew that I was gonna talk this record. Even when [pianist] Joe Weaver and them came in to record, you know, I didn't tell them, So when I kicked off and showed them the way I wanted the rhythm to go, I started talkin'. All the musicians looked at me like they thought I was crazy. Miss Brown looked up from the studio knobs as if to say, 'What the hell is he doin'?' And Ernie Durham said, 'Wait a minute, don't bother the knobs, let him do it!' When I finished, Ernie said, 'That can work!' Miss Brown was still furious; you know, 'You're wasting my money! I can't sell this!' Ernie said, 'Oh no no, press it up, try it!' They pressed the record and, bingo, that was it! I said, 'Okay, now I got it; now the only thing I got to do is talk about all these bad times that I had, and I should be able to have me a lengthy career.' And that's the way I started talkin' records.

After I seen I could write, I hooked up with Berry Gordy and started really writing and producing . I did about 80 songs for Berry. I cut a couple of things on Marvin [Gaye] -- 'Mojo Hannah,' 'Soldier's Plea.' Mary Wells, I was on the back side of 'My Guy' with 'Oh Little Boy.' I recorded the first record with Stevie Wonder, which was 'Thank You Mother,' with me, Berry, Mickey Stevenson and Clarence Paul. I did almost two albums on The Contours -- those was my boys! I had quite a few records done over there.
UT:So you split from Motown about when?

ANDRE:Well see, I was in and out of Motown from around '61 to '65. I almost started Berry [in the business], and we had a friendship going, but I could never conform to his way of doing business, and I could never be a yes-man and suck up to him, so he fired me! But when he'd fire me, then he'd get a guilty conscience or something, and he call me back. I'd go back and work maybe six or seven months, then mess up again and he'd fire me again . He kept sayin', 'Andre, I want to make you a millionaire, but you don't wanna be a millionaire; you don't wanna do things the way they supposed to be done! You got your own way of doing things, and I can't have that here at my company! I can't let you ruin my company!' And I'd say, 'Well then, screw it, man. Bye!' And I'd leave and go somewhere, and get a hit -- like, I'd go to Chicago and do 'Shake a Tail Feather' with the Five Du-Tones -- and Berry'd send a telegram sayin', 'Come back to Detroit!' (laughs) You know? Everytime I'd catch a hit like 'Twine Time,' he'd send for me, because he didn't want his soldiers out there. He was a selfish cat.
UT:So you went over to Chess after '65?
ANDRE:Yeah. Well see, Chess was always interested in me, but they were scared of me; matter of fact, a lot of companies were really scared of me, because I was known to be a very erratic, wild, hellraiser. They wanted to do business with me, but they was leery, 'cuz they didn't know when I might pull out a gun and jump on their desk and moon 'em, or whatever. They say, 'Man, I'd like to get some of Andre's stuff, but damn; I don't know if I could put up with this guy.' Chess was the same way, but Leonard always liked me; he said, 'You a wild motherfucker! Boy, If I could ever corral you, I could make you a millionaire, but Andre you so wild!'
UT:Is 'The Stroke' [one of Andre's raunchier 1960s sides] from your Chess period?
ANDRE:Oh yeah; that's on Checker. 'The Stroke' was done as the follow-up for 'Cadillac Jack.' I did 'Cadillac Jack' and it sold pretty good, so then I did 'The Stroke.' The other side was really supposed to be the A-side, which was 'Humpin', Bumpin' and Thumpin'.'
UT:It's funny, because 'Cadillac Jack' is real smooth, and 'The Stroke' and 'Humpin', Bumpin' and Thumpin'' are just completely out of control.
ANDRE:Well, they was out of control because I was drunk as hell in the studio! Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!
UT:Well, that would explain it.
ANDRE:Yeah, and then they were unarranged songs. That was what you call a 'head' session. Monk Higgins and The Dells did 'Cadillac Jack' with me, so that was kind of laid out and arranged. We just got together and popped out those other ones.

The minute something good would jump up, something bad would come in play, and trip it over, or I would knock it over, and it kept going on and on until I just said 'The hell with it, I'm too old, there's nothing else gonna happen, I'll just do this.' And then I went down to Ike Turner, and that was the worst experience of my entire life. I stayed out there about 18 months, and when I come out of there I was weighin' about 97 pounds and I was half-dead. I was a walkin' fuckin' skeleton, Dan! After that, I just gave up. That's when the drug thing had caught me real bad, and then it just spiralled downhill. I mean down, four stories below the gutter. Sub-basement. Like it was a journey just to climb up to the curb.
UT:You're living in New York now, right?
ANDRE:Right. I'm livin' in Queens, got my own offices, my own production companies, my own publishing companies, and my own lawyer staff, thank God. I can focus strictly on the artist end of this. I'm in New York, and I'm lovin' it, and New York loves me, and I love New York. And now that I'm Jewish, I'm into the real posse! The guys are just opening the doors for me, man. And I done hung the guns up, so you know, I'm a different guy. All that is behind me, man; it's a different scene. Different attitude, different outlook, different goals.
UT:Have you been gettin' your stage wardrobe together?
ANDRE:Oh, it's together, man. I'm just about as well-dressed as Cab Calloway was. Or better! (laughs) I got two very good girls that works at the temple that's sewin' all my stuff. Everything is handmade, man, and it is sharp!
UT:Any advice for young folks tryin' to make it in showbiz? 
ANDRE:Well, my advice to them is, different is best. If you think that your stuff is different, don't be scared of it. And don't give up! Take no as if you're putting salt and pepper on some eggs. 'No' is not poison. If somebody tell you no, it don't mean diddly, because there's another door, y'understand? And don't ever be scared of your creation, that's the main thing; that's the point I'd like to give to any struggling artist. Don't let nobody change your stuff. Stay with your stuff until you can't do it no more, because the break could be right around the corner, and you don't know at what age, or at what time the door's gonna open for you.
UT:One more question, Andre. Does gin really taste mighty fine on pancakes?
ANDRE:Okay, no! I was half high when I said that. I went and tried it -- and it tasted like sheee-it! Hee hee hee hee hee hee! Hell, no. Don't waste no gin on no pancakes!