You can call him Papa Mali (a name bestowed upon him years ago by none other than Burning Spear) or you can call him Malcolm Welbourne (that’s what they wrote on his birth certificate in Vicksburg, MS 53 years ago). Either way, you’re talking about the same blonde-dreadlocked guitar-slinging hoodoo-voodoo master whose music manages to embrace sounds from all over the world, rolled in Louisiana swamp mud and braised in blues sauce.
Combine that chunk of the funky universe with the multi-instrumental talents of Austin’s own Matt Hubbard, the legendary groove of George Porter Jr., and the rhythm devil himself – Bill Kreutzmann … is your head spinning yet? This isn’t some fantasy dream band, boys and girls – this is the real thing: 7 Walkers have arrived.
Their self-titled debut effort hits the streets in early November – and if the aforementioned lineup wasn’t enough to numb you up solid, then consider the fact that Robert Hunter himself lent his lyrical talents to the album. (And there’s also a vocal contribution by Matt’s good friend Willie Nelson.) The vibe ranges from bayou gators in the rain to dancing ‘round the campfire in the deep jungle and back; this is a band that’s as equally at home with surf guitar as it is with talking drums.
We had the pleasure of a dose of Papa Mali’s time recently, covering everything from the Pipes of Pan to the guitar of Hubert Sumlin. Even though the man was a couple thousand miles away at home in Austin, TX, his “mystic spirituality” comes through the phone lines. Given enough time in his company, your bones will hum.
Enjoy.
BR: The first step on the journey of 7 Walkers was when you and Bill Kreuztmann crossed paths. How did that come about?
PM: Billy’s girlfriend Aimee has been a fan of mine for a while and has a couple of my records. I guess she’d been telling Billy about me. When they saw I was playing a festival in Oregon that they were already scheduled to be at themselves … next thing I know, he’s backstage and we’re talking it up like we’re old friends. It’s really funny, because I didn’t even recognize him at first. (laughter)
BR: That’s cool …
PM: Oh, yeah – he was just this friendly guy backstage. We hit it off immediately; it was just one of those times when you meet somebody and you know you want to be friends with them, man. He was wearing a hat with a Grateful Dead logo on it, but –
BR: So were half the other people at the festival, right?
PM: Exactly! (laughter) But when he said his name was Billy, then I kind of put it all together: “Oh, man … how’re you doing?” (laughter)
BR: You and Matt have been friends for a while, haven’t you?
PM: Yeah, we both live here in Austin. Matt’s been working a lot with Willie Nelson over the past 12 years or so – he’s also a great sound engineer. I’ve seen him with other bands and always like the way he plays, you know? I heard he was back here doing some work and I got back in touch with him about getting together to do some projects.
BR: Had the two of you played together in the past?
PM: Only casually – not on any serious projects.
BR: He can do just about anything, can’t he?
PM: Oh, man – it’s really great to have somebody who can cover that many bases. It was so much easier making the record with Matt; we would’ve had to bring in a lot more people to do all the stuff he did with his multi-instrumental skills. I’ve done production work in the past, so I produced the record, but his engineering skills really helped flesh out the sound of the record.
BR: I know Reed Mathis is on bass for everything except “Chingo!” – that’s where we hear George Porter Jr. for the first time. Was “Chingo!” the last thing you cut for the album?
PM: Yes, it was. We did all the main tracks for the rest of the album last year in about a week’s time with Reed, Matt, Billy, and I in Matt’s studio. Matt and I were going to do the post-production ourselves, but with our touring schedules, we really didn’t get a chance to work on it until the first of this year. In the meantime, Reed had commitments with the other bands he works with and George just happened to have a window open. He was very interested in being a part of what we were doing – and, of course, we were thrilled to have him step in. I’ve known George for years and he’s always been one of my favorite bass players. By April, he’d pretty much taken over the bass role in the band. At that point, we were all out in San Francisco and had the opportunity to go into the studio with George – that’s when we recorded the basic tracks for “Chingo!”. Then we finished it at the studio in Austin.
BR: How did the band’s sound change going from Reed to George? As we all know, Reed’s a hell of a player …
PM: Oh, he’s fantastic, man. With George, I guess it’s the maturity – he’s an innovator, you know? He’s a founding father of the New Orleans funk sound. Having somebody like that along with Billy – who’s an innovator himself – is something else. They’re both American originals.
BR: Geez – you wouldn’t call yourself an American original? There ain’t nobody quite like you.
PM: (laughs) Thanks, brah, I appreciate that – but when it comes to an overview of musical history, those two names really stand out. Founding fathers of the Meters and the Grateful Dead in a band together? I’d want to check that out if I wasn’t playing with them! (laughter)
Really, though – it’s amazing to watch the chemistry between George and Billy, man. It’s just excellent.
BR: Had they played together before 7 Walkers?
PM: No, that’s the thing: I’d known George for a while, but he’d never met Billy before. I mean, I didn’t really know how they would gel, actually. But they got along together just great right from the very beginning, both on and offstage. They just have fun; they laugh … I don’t know … it just makes me feel good playing with them.
BR: There are a number of instrumentals throughout the album that you either wrote yourself or with the rest of the band. “Cane River Waltz”; “Mr. Okra”; “Someday You’ll See (Prelude)”; “Airline Highway” – to me, they sound like theme songs just waiting for the movies to be made that go with them.
PM: (laughs) I’ll tell you what, man – that’s a big compliment for me, because some of the stuff I enjoy listening to at home – I’m a big vinyl guy; I have thousands of thousands of vinyl records – is by Ennio Morricone and Hugo Montenegro.
BR: Really?
PM: Oh yeah – some of those old soundtracks from the ‘60s. Great stuff. So those probably influenced me to some degree. That’s cool that you caught that vibe.
I’ve always liked guitar-driven instrumental music, ever since I was really young: The Ventures, that sort of thing.
BR: Well, that sets me up nicely to ask you about your guitar solo on “Sue From Bogalusa”; you’re in and out of there in under a minute, but you get a lot done before the fade, man. Real clean, cool tone – sounds like a cross between Chuck Berry and somebody doing wild-ass Zydeco accordion riffs on the guitar.
PM: (laughs) Thanks, man. Both of those things have influenced my style a lot; growing up in Louisiana and hearing Zydeco, New Orleans funk, and R & B … and of course, Chuck Berry was everywhere. You couldn’t play guitar at my age and not have been influenced by Chuck Berry, you know?
BR: Well, I’m 52 …
PM: And I’m 53, so that’s about right, man. (laughter) I’ll tell you a story: the ’61 Stratocaster I played on “Sue From Bogalusa” used to belong to Hubert Sumlin.
BR: Cool – did you get it from him?
PM: No, that’s the deal: I bought it from a guy who told me he’d won it in a card game from Hubert Sumlin a long time ago. I’ve owned it for over 20 years and have become quite attached to it. So about 3 years ago, I had a chance to hang out with Hubert when we were on the Blues Cruise together. It was cool – I got to play with him and after the show we had a chance to hang out and swap stories, you know? I’d met him before, but we’d never really had a chance just to hang out – and I’d never told him about the guitar.
BR: (laughs) Well, if nothing else, it made a great story …
PM: Right! So, I’d been playing the guitar that day with Hubert and I was wondering if he’d noticed it, you know? He didn’t seem to, so afterwards, I walked over to him and handed my Strat to him: “Here, man – try mine.”
Hubert starts playing it and I don’t say anything. After a minute or so, he says, “Man, that’s a nice guitar.”
And then he plays a little bit more and goes, “Man that’s a real nice guitar.”
And then he looks at it real carefully and says, “Hey – where did you get this?” (laughter)
So I told him about buying it from a guy in Austin who said he’d won from Hubert in a card game. And Hubert said, “Yeah, he sure did, man.” And you know, it just kind of struck me at that moment that he really did love that guitar, you know? So I told him, “Here man – you can have it.”
BR: Oh, wow.
PM: Yeah, but then Hubert looked at me and he looked at the guitar and he said, “Naw, man – I like the way you play it.” (laughter)
BR: That’s great – like you had his blessing.
PM: Yeah – exactly. But then he says, “Eric Clapton and Keith Richards have given me so many guitars, man …” (laughter)
BR: Cool, what a great story…Let’s see, how about “King Cotton Blues”? That’s one of those classic Robert Hunter tales, isn’t it?
PM: Absolutely. That’s the first thing he wrote lyrics for and I immediately imagined it as something like “Candyman” or “Loser” – one of those great Hunter tunes that could be about almost any era. That’s the way the song felt to me right from the very beginning.
BR: Was Billy responsible for you and Hunter getting together?
PM: Yes. A lot of times people get together to play music and end up becoming friends; in this case, it was like Billy and I became friends before we decided to work together, you know? It was really nice to hang out together and everything, but then we started thinking, “Man, we should make a band.”
Bill trusted me enough to introduce me to Hunter; I guess he felt that I’d be a good collaborator with Hunter, which is a total honor. And, man – the guy is so prolific. He writes all the time; I can’t keep up with his output. I’ve got about half a dozen songs right now that I need to finish working on.
Photo by Dave Vann
BR: What’s the process like?
PM: Well, the way it started was Bill introduced us by e-mail, and then Robert began sending me lyrics. I’d take them from there and put the words to music – sometimes make a demo, sometimes just start the recording process. I’d send out what I’d started to Billy and to Hunter to make sure that they liked the direction I was taking it in. And every time, I got nothing but positive responses, which was cool. At some point I realized that not only was I living up to their expectations, but that Robert was beginning to write for me, you know? The songs began to take on more of a Louisiana-southern-swamp kind of vibe.
BR: Oh, yeah – when I first heard “Louisiana Rain” …
PM: Exactly, man.
BR: You can’t tell me that Hunter wasn’t writing that for you.
PM: Exactly. And when I finally did meet him face-to-face a few months later, he told me that he had checked out my music.
I really couldn’t be more honored than to be writing with someone of that caliber. There are only a few songwriters in this world that I even hold in that high of a regard and he’s definitely right at the top of the list.
BR: Well, now I’m going to admit something to you: I didn’t realize that “Someday You’ll See” is all yours – words and music – until I read the album credits. It nestles right in there with those Hunter tunes, sweet and pretty.
PM: Thanks, buddy … I really appreciate that. As a producer, I had to weigh out whether that would fit in with the other songs, but my instincts told me it would. I actually wrote that song a few years ago before I met either Billy or Robert … but I really think that somewhere in my subconscious, it was influenced by my love for the Grateful Dead’s music.
BR: One more question about “King Cotton Blues”: who’s playing the banjo I hear in there?
PM: (laughs) That’s me.
BR: Nice touch.
PM: Yeah, I forgot to credit myself on the record – but as producer and songwriter and whatever, I get enough as it is. No need to put everything under the magnifying glass, you know?
The basic lineup is Billy on drums and percussion; Matt on keyboards, harp, horns, and vocals; I’m playing guitar and doing vocals, along with a little synth and some percussion; and then you have Reed on bass for everything except “Chingo!” with George.
BR: A “Chingo!” question: who’s playing that cool little melody line that sounds like pipes?
PM: (laughs) That’s Matt playing an old antique wooden recorder that I had. We double-tracked it to give it that sort of “Pan pipes” sound, like you say.
BR: It’s a cool tune – the whole band just turns into a rhythm machine. The vocals, the swirls on the keys – everything – it’s one big rhythm piece.
PM: You know what’s really cool? When my son – who’s 18 years old and really into music of all kinds – heard “Chingo!” for the first time, he said to me, “This is something that my friends will really like.” (laughter)
BR: Now that’s rewarding, right? To have your kid think that Dad’s music is cool …
PM: Oh, yeah. (laughter)
BR: And there’s a neat little acoustic guitar part underneath it all on “Chingo!” that ties everything together.
PM: You know something? That’s an old Martin that I bought the same day we recorded that track – an old D-18. I brought it into the studio and said, “Let’s see how this thing sounds on the mic – and it was, “Wow …” (laughs)
BR: Who arranged the Dixieland horns on “New Orleans Crawl”?
PM: Matt and I did that together. We brought in a friend of ours, Steve Johnson, to play saxophone on that one.
BR: People should be listening to him.
PM: Yeah, isn’t he great? And he surprised us at the very end of the session. I’d said something like, “Too bad the trumpet player couldn’t make it” because the guy had to cancel at the last minute. Steve says, “Oh, well, I play trumpet, too.” And we all go, “What?” (laughter) And he says, “Yeah – I got it out in the car.” So he ended up putting the trumpet part on there, too.
But, yeah: when Matt laid down his trombone part, it really took it into that Dixieland tailgate thing, you know?
BR: “Evangeline” is just plain lovely. I don’t know if you got inside of that one or if Hunter got inside of you …
PM: One of the two, man, one of the two … I know Hunter was really touched when he heard what we did with that song – just like I was when I first read the lyrics; I immediately connected with it.
Hunter had lines like, “Plain to her as street signs posted in the trees.” There are places in Louisiana where they put the street signs in the trees and I don’t think anybody who’s never been there could possibly know that, you know? It’s things like that that touched me … Hunter’s not just a great poet and lyricist – he pays attention to the little details that seep into our subconsciousness. I’d never even thought about the street signs until I read him describing them.
BR: Another thing that struck me about “Evangeline” the first time through was Bill – just his cymbal work on that tune would be a great study for any aspiring drummer.
PM: Billy is one of the most amazing drummers I have ever experienced. I mean, I knew that before I met him, but it’s different when you play with somebody. I had to almost re-approach my own playing when I started playing with him, because he liberates you; his playing is so perfect, yet his style is so free that it really makes you play more freely … it’s a beautiful thing.
I think that Billy really brought jazz drumming into the rock world, you know? I mean, guys like Mitch Mitchell did it, too, but Billy really did it better. You can hear people like Elvin Jones in his playing – it’s really amazing.
BR: I had to laugh when I first heard “Hey Bo Diddle”, thinking about how many times Billy and the Dead jammed their way into and out of “Not Fade Away”. But you guys took that Bo Diddley-style beat and found a totally different path to travel with it.
PM: And that’s one where you have to totally give the credit to Bill. He loves New Orleans music, but just like with anything else he plays, he always puts his stamp of individuality on it. So even though it’s sort of a second-line New Orleans beat and somewhat of a Bo Diddley beat, it’s really neither. It’s a unique thing that Billy created and it really defines the song.
BR: “7 Walkers” – which came first, the band name or the song?
PM: The song came first. We took our name from it because we loved that Robert Hunter magic of puzzles within puzzles and cosmic connections within his lyrics that are clues to other things.
BR: On one level, there are these cool street scenes – the right-in-your-face stuff – and at the same time, there’s this level of mysticism.
PM: You got it. That’s what intrigued us about the song and made it a perfect name for the band. It expresses our interest in mystic spirituality – and at the same time, we’re just regular guys just playing music on the road, man. (laughs)
BR: You’ve been playing music for a long time – has it ever felt like this band does to you?
PM: Never, man. Never. And it’s not just the fact that I’m playing with two of my heroes – I’ve been lucky enough to play with _a lot _ of my heroes over the years, actually. It’s something much more than that …
I have to say, when I first thought about bringing George into the fold, I never even dreamed that he’d be enjoying it so much that he’d put his other projects on the back burner and go with this, you know? He’s a very groovy and a very busy guy. But something special happened between he and Billy that just can’t be denied. That was when I realized that we really had a band – it wasn’t just me and Billy doing a project.
I think that’s what makes our sound unique: there are four of us who have each had very different experiences – but at the same time, we’re all really connected, man.
