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Local harp player extraordinaire, GLENN MOOMAU, has come a long way in the decade or so that he's taken up the
instrument in earnest. But this tall and lanky, retro-fitted (complete with two-toned shoes) leader of the Blue Flames, now a fixture on Friday nights and alternate Saturdays at Bertha's in Fells Point in Baltimore, will be the first to admit that he'll have to pay a lot more dues before he becomes self-satisfied that he's truly arrived--having mastered the harmonica with all its nuances. And to that end, he's stayed up way past his bedtime on many occasions in order to learn a lick or two from the greats. |
by Larry Benicewicz
Kramer, at the neighboring Cat's Eye Pub on Sunday afternoons and
after putting in a grueling four hours, will often sit in until
the wee hours with a national touring act that I had booked at
the same club. Over the years he's absorbed a wide array of
musical styles and approaches from the primitive Swamp Blues of
ex-J.D. Miller session player, Lazy Lester, to the zydeco
inflected offerings (via the autovalve harp) of Mel Melton
(formerly of Lafayette's Bayou Rhythm with guitar wizard Sonny
Landreth) of the Wicked Mojos, to the jazzy, cosmopolitan, and
contrapuntal Chicago variety of, for example, Philadelphia's
Steve Guyger and the Excellos and Wilmington's Jim McCarthy.
Still not content, Glenn had been known to take in a concert to
hear even the classical harmonica stylings of Baltimore's own
recently departed, Larry Adler. Unlike the majority of Baltimore
artists who have reached a certain plateau because they deem
their musical education complete, Glenn will not miss an
opportunity to hone his skills, hearing any artist of note, and
then go "woodshedding," practicing what they preach.
Did I forget to inform the reader that Glenn teaches freshman
composition and other related lower-level English classes at
American University, a thankless profession which entails a
brutal early morning commute to Washington, DC, nearly every week
day, not to mention stacks of papers to be graded which often
threaten to engulf his apartment? But as far as blues is
concerned, he thinks he has his priorities in order. "Well, I
guess I'm going to have to let them ferment another day," he says
resolutely as he wends his way homeward after witnessing to its
conclusion yet another late night gig of a revered blues giant.
Now in his forties, Glenn won't have to worry about that
dreaded mid-life crisis, although this Renaissance Man might
down the road turn to writing as a full time career. He might be
considered a Johnny-come-lately or a relatively late bloomer as a
musician, but he's made up his mind at least for now to give his
harp playing his best shot and people are beginning to stand up
and take notice.
Glenn Walker Moomau was born in Washington, DC, May 6, 1959
and grew up in the far suburb of Olney, eventually attending the
private Mercersburg Academy. He recalls in his formative years of
being attracted particulary to late British Invasion blues-based
bands like the Yardbirds, Cream, Eric Burdon & the Animals, and
the Rolling Stones. Then, as now, having a natural intellectual
curiousity, he wondered about the origins of some of the
material. "I'd see names like Chester Burnett and McKinley
Morganfield given the writer's credits and sought to track down
the roots of these compositions," he said. Other sources of
delight were two local radio stations, Georgetown University's
WGTB, which included some sporadic blues programming, and
Bethesda's WHFS. According to Glenn, the latter was the closest
facsimile to a real alternative choice on the FM (102.3) dial,
promoting, through DJ's like Weasel, local acts like the
Nighthawks, Roy Buchanan, Catfish Hodge, Bobby Radcliff, and
rockabilly exemplar, Tex Rubinowitz. "You know, WHFS would have
lead-ins sung by the likes of T-Bone Walker and Hound Dog Taylor,
which made me all the more inquisitive about their identities
and backgrounds," added Glenn.
Unlike most musicians, Glenn never had a family member to
encourage him to play nor act as a role model and his first
encounter at 17 (his senior year in high school) with the
harmonica was more of a fortuitous event than anything else. "A
friend of mine gave me one and I was glad to accept it. I had
just quit smoking and needed something to do with my mouth," he
said. Glenn also remembers that a double album of Paul
Butterfield, Golden Butter, was highly influential in his
development, much in the same way as it was with Mark Wenner of
the Nighthawks. In fact, Butterfield played at Wenner's prom at
Columbia University. In addition, Glenn credits the Chess Vintage
Series of albums, including Sonny Boy Williamson's Bummer Road,
Elmore James/John Brim's (split) Whose Muddy Shoes, and Little
Walter Jacob's Hate To See You Go as further piquing his interest
in the blues. "I was lucky enough to find these cut-outs my
freshman year in college. I can't tell you how many times I
played them, but just about wore them mothers out. And I still
have them with multiple copies for insurance," exclaimed Glenn.
Also about this same time frame, the mature-looking Glenn,
with an altered driver's license in hand began sneaking into the
first of many now-defunct blues haunts of that era, the Psyche
Delly in Bethesda, which was just across the street from WHFS. In
fact, the club often featured live feeds to the station which
were broadcast that same night, including probably the most
famous of them all on February 18, 1976, which became the
Nighthawks second LP, Live At The Psyche Delly, a project which
was later released on area producer Gene Rosenthal's Adelphi
label. "It was a great place to hear regional talent and there
was a slew of it, including Tom Principato's Powerhouse (before
the move to Boston) with Pierre Beauregard on harp, John Nicholas
and the Rhythm Rockers, the Charlottesville All Stars, Jimmy Cole
and the Roadmasters, Danny Gatton, and, of course, the
Nighthawks," said Glenn. The affable and acccomodating Mark
Wenner of this latter group would be among the first to offer
harmonica playing tips to Glenn, who at that time was just
"fooling around." "He told me that I should begin by playing
'taps' as in the military and some simple harp solo like that of
Robert Palmer in "Sneakin' Sally Thru The Alley," added Glenn.
But it wouldn't be until the late 90s at the Full Moon Saloon in
Baltimore that Glenn would finally be able to sit in with his
harp hero.
GLENN MOOMAU, Photo: Larry B.
CLARK MATTHEWS, Photo: Larry B.
