Preview
BO DIDDLEY
July 11
Cowboys
For a lot of years, rock ’n’ roll legend Bo Diddley kept his yap conspicuously closed about what was eating him most. And I mean grinding at his psyche like a bustificated tube amplifier on a continual feedback loop. Then, maybe about 15 years or so ago, the now 77-year-old guitar hero decided to get vocal about the hosing he’s taken at the hands of the recording industry.
Chess, Diddley’s first record label, never did pay him a nickel of the royalty money owed to him for his early groundbreaking songs, including the single "Bo Diddley," the single that touched off his music career. Today, his music is still being heavily copyright infringed, he claims, by various bootlegging small-time recording operations that produce rock ’n’ roll collections and compilations without paying artist royalties.
On the phone, Diddley is cheery until he gets started on what’s owed him. Then he lets fly with quite a rant. "That’s right," he says, his deep voice rising, "I’ve never seen any of that money. That’s still the case. It’s sad. I live off what I do on one-nighters. The royalty thing ain’t gonna happen. People shouldn’t be allowed to rip people off. The government should jump in and investigate. Here in the U.S. Uncle Sam needs to help out."
Who wouldn’t resent the fact that your art and hard work have fed a lot of wallets, while your own billfold stayed hungry? Just don’t suggest that he shouldn’t let it eat at him. "I can’t put it out of my mind!" he says adamantly. "People are getting paid for my stuff. That’s weird, man."
As much as he’s steamed by the perpetual recording industry fudge job, none of his money frustrations show onstage. Diddley is charming, funny and leaves his audience satisfied. In two shows he performed a number of years ago at the now-defunct Repubik nightclub, Diddley had the crowds in the palm of his hand as he performed rock ’n’ roll era covers and a goodly chunk of his own repertoire, including a then newly minted "Kids Don’t Do It." The latter combined rap with a modified Bo Diddley beat and an anti gun-violence message that Diddley points out pre-dated the Columbine massacre.
"I can’t mix it," he says of his work as a live performer and his blistering, seething hatred for record industry scam artists. "My fans are my fans."
However, Diddley laments the fact his fans aren’t aware of the situation, steering our conversation right back to his getting shafted. "I kept quiet for a lot of years. I’m tellin’ people now: Bo Diddley never got his piece of the cake. All over the world people are bootlegging. The statute of limitations sucks!"
There’s no real deterrent to copyright infringement, he goes on to say, because it’s just not prosecuted. "That’s been a problem for a lot of people. You’ll go into a store and pick up a tape and the store owner won’t tell you where he got it. It’s not right. I’m talkin’ about for the new generation of kids comin’ up." Diddley feels the American government ought to establish a watchdog agency to which all musicians would pay a fee.
Just before Diddley’s handlers handle him off the phone, our talk does get to music and performing. Diddley delights in the youthfulness of his live show crowds. "They’re still checking me out," he says. "’Oh, that’s where it all began!’" One of rock ’n’ roll’s defining guitarists and the man who invented the Bo Diddley beat, wrote "I Want Candy," "Who Do You Love," "Mona," and "Road Runner," he can be forgiven a smidgen of well-earned self-importance.
"Come on out (to the show)," he bids with a laugh, "and see what grandpa’ll do!"
Guaranteed, it’ll be what he’s always done and is either blessed or doomed to continue. Diddley says his fingers are holding up pretty well after a lifetime of guitar picking and strumming, so he may remain on the road for a few years yet. "I’ll do this until I can’t," he says matter-of-factly. "What else is there for me to do but rock ’n’ roll?" |
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