Malcolm John Rebennack, known to funk and blues fans the world over by his voodoo-inflected stagename, Dr. John, has died. Perhaps the 20th century’s most successful exporter of New Orleans style and sound, Dr. John’s accomplishments were as numerous as they were colorful. After all, how many other people can claim to be a Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame-er, SCTV alumni, Grammy winner, Martin Scorsese concert film subject, and the inspiration for a famous Muppet, all in a single life?
Born in New Orleans’ Third Ward as the son of a prominent record shop owner, John slipped easily into the world of music, scoring early success as a guitar player in local night clubs. (He only switched to piano, the instrument he’s now best known for, after having a finger nearly blown off by a gunshot during an altercation after a gig.) After a brief detour into the worlds of drug trafficking, brothel management, and federal prison—in roughly that order—he departed the south in the mid-1960s. But even when he arrived in Los Angeles (becoming a key part of the famed “Wrecking Crew” collective of highly prolific session musicians in the process), he brought New Orleans with him: First as flamboyant, eye-catching costume, and later as sincere, life-long tribute to the city of his birth.
It was in L.A. that the persona of “Dr. John, The Night Tripper” first came into fullest form, serving as the centerpiece of Rebennack’s voodoo-themed stage show. Those same influences came through even more strongly on his 1968 debut, Gris-Gris, which blended Haitian chanting, psychedelic rock, and New Orleans R&B into an eclectic and irresistible combination. (Irresistible to later audiences, anyway, who still hold the album up as a modern masterpiece; contemporary reviewers were a bit more flummoxed).
But the thing about trying to look straight on at the career of Dr. John is that you end up seeing it as this constantly shifting thing, a man happy to analyze and discard elements of his own self-image and style as dictated by his rapidly evolving tastes. And so, for instance, “The Night Tripper”—his credited name as a songwriter on his first several albums—eventually became simply Dr. John, while many of the more exaggerated elements of his stage persona dropped away, leaving behind exactly who he was: An immensely talented, knowledgeable, and passionate practitioner of classic Louisiana music.
The result of said shift: 1972's Dr. John’s Gumbo, which—along with the connections he was swiftly forging as one of California’s most frequently sought-out session players—helped transform him into a classic musician’s musician, beloved by everyone from The Rolling Stones, to members of The Beatles, to Carly Simon, Neil Diamond, and more. Gumbo—largely comprised of covers of old standards—is still considered one of the classic albums chronicling the city’s sound, and it’s one of two Dr. John releases to make Rolling Stone’s 2003 list of the 500 greatest albums of all time. (Gris-Gris was the other.) He continued to release music throughout his life, including multiple albums wrestling with his feelings about New Orleans’ near-destruction by Hurricane Katrina in 2005.
It’s difficult to overstate how thoroughly Dr. John infiltrated the world of modern music and pop culture; his legacy is practically unavoidable, even for those who’ve never sought out his work. He appears in The Last Waltz and Disney’s The Princess And The Frog (and David Simon’s Treme, of course). He inspired Jim Henson to create his laid-back bandleader, Dr. Teeth. He performed the theme song of Blossom. He once traded banter with John Candy on SCTV, and has been the subject of, or best part on, so many different tribute albums that it can honestly be kind of difficult to keep track. He did it all with a smile and a genuine love for his craft, creating a larger-than-life version of himself that nevertheless never overshadowed the music that was the central focus of his life.
He died earlier today, of a heart attack. He was 77.
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Do you guys check Pitchfork once a day and refurbish their headlines?
How, pray tell, does one outlet refurbish an RIP celebrity post?I’m all for crapping on lazy and/or outrage clickbait articles, but there is only one way to make this particular kind of blog.
grrrrrrriiiiiiiinnnnnnnddddddiiiiiinnnnnnngggggggg that axe
That’s how The AVClub do since the Kinjapocalypse:
ah yes, this comment makes sense because pitchfork is the only place reporting on dr. john’s death.
I hope you’re not this tedious in real life.
This makes me really sad. I once met the good Doctor. I was standing in line waiting to pay at a store here in New York City – this was around 2003 or 2004 – when I thought the guy in front of my who was quietly talking to his wife was very probably Dr. John. I knew his real name was Mac Rebennack, so when he took his credit card out to pay, I stole a quick look and my suspicion was verified. I exclaimed happily, “Oh! I thought you were you!” Rebennack turned around and looked at me, and, in his low Cajun-steeped drawl said, “Be a terrible thing to wake up in tha mawnin’ and find out you weren’t you anymore.” We both laughed…then it occurred to me that there was something I had always wanted to say to Dr. John, and now was my chance.Back in the early-80’s when Tom Waits originally “went weird,” replacing his old-school jazz performances with jazz and funk-oriented freak-outs featuring percussion that sounded like demons smacking human bones together, I was convinced that Waits had lifted at least a chunk of his (very entertaining) schtick whole-cloth from Dr. John’s original voodoo rock masterpiece, “Gris-Gris.” So I jokingly said to Rebennack, “You know what? I’ve always thought you should sue Tom Waits.” At that, Rebennack’s wife rolled her eyes and loudly moaned, “Oh, noooooo!” Apparently I had hit a nerve. I said, “No. Really! A lot of that stuff he was doing at first sounded like it came straight from you!” “Ah don’t mind the music,” Rebennack replied, “Ah jus’ don’t like the guuuuy!” Then he picked his purchase up off the counter, told me to take care, and walked out of the store, leaning on his big wooden walking stick like a pharaoh. I’ve always been sorry he didn’t tell me what Tom Waits did to earn his wrath. His wife probably would have stopped him before he told me anyway.So that’s my Dr. John Story. He was a great musician and a great character who will be missed.
That’s very interesting to me. I own both Gris-Gris and Swordfishtrombones, and will play either of them very happily. And I never met Dr. John, but I did meet Waits – worked with him for an afternoon, in fact – and he was a prince of a guy. I’d love to hear that story too! It’s probably receiving a jazz funeral in the French Quarter as we speak, though, along with its keeper.
Yeah by all accounts Waits is nice guy. Also, I wouldn’t call Waits a thief at all but there are some clear and obvious influences at different stages in his career from Dylan to Screamin’ Jay Hawkins to Kurt Weill and others. Sure, throw Dr. John on the pile… If anyone, Greil “Old, Weird America” Marcus should sue Waits…
Hey also I should add that Dr. John himself is a big “thief” of other musicians. The estate of Professor Longhair should sue! Thief in quotes because of course not. He was just part of the gumbo…
That’s why I said “a chunk.” I’ve just always felt that people acted like Waits cooked the whole thing up straight out of his head, when there’s also a lot of Captain Beefheart in there. It’s an amalgamation that’s driven by his own sensibilities, too. I say this as someone who thinks Tom Waits is a VASTLY underrated songwriter. He’s brilliant. “Swordfishtrombones” is one of my ten favorite albums. So I’m not bad-mouthing him, believe me.
Love ‘em both, always have, though I have to admit I didn’t get a real, deep appreciation for Dr. John really until I listened to ‘Gris-Gris’ for the first time maybe 10, 12 years ago- before that he was somebody everybody from Louisiana loved as a state treasure, but I never really dug too deep into why while growing up there. There’s definitely some similarity, but seems to me more like taking cues from the same things that came before either of them.Can we just take a second and talk just a little about the sound of Gris-Gris? I mean, not just the songs, but the production? Those recordings have a depth of field, an in-the-room quality that’s not hi-fi but sounds like you’re there. It gives me goosebumps still.
Believe it or not, the Beatles were big fans of that record! Apparently, John wanted a Dr. John-style “swamp”sound for “Come Together.” Obviously, it’s filtered through the Beatles’ sensibility, but I get the idea. It’s a terrific recording, guaranteed to sell not a lick! (The Band also flipped over it, which makes more sense.)
Dr. John was born and raised in New Orleans, so his accent is the more traditional Ninth Ward “Yat” (“Where Y’at?”). “Cajun” refers to the area of southwest Louisiana (bordered by Baton Rouge to the east, Lake Charles to the west, and Alexandria to the north) which was settled by Acadians from Nova Scotia.
First Leon Redbone, now Dr John. A Bad week for cool ass mofos from the 70s
I googled to check because I figured their paths had to have crossed at some point. They did, in the most unlikely of places (although foreshadowing one of Redbone’s later incarnations):
Holy shit that’s awesome
That version is on heavy rotation in our house around the holidays. My husband and I mentioned it was odd they both passed so close to each other 🙁
Leon Redbone’s Christmas Island is probably on my top five Christmas albums.
Thanks! Definitely going to add it to my playlist of Christmas music I can play around the house without wanting to go on a murder spree.
Easily one of my most favorite Christmas songs as a child. Still holds a special place in my heart to this day.What a 1-2 punch.
His music and legacy is so much cooler than this clip would imply, but since I probably watched European Vacation several hundred times growing up the first thing that came to mind is
Christ the 80s were horrible.(My mom used to liken us to the Griswolds whenever we traveled. She had a perverse sense of humour.)
Johnny LaRue’s Polynesian Town may be my favorite SCTV sketch. There’s just so much meta humor and in-joking going on there. That, or maybe it’s the “Midnight Express Special.” Or maybe it’s seeing Jackie Rodgers, Sr.’s demise. That always makes me laugh until I cry.But I digress… RIP Dr. John – he gave one of the best performances to in “The Last Waltz.”
My friend and I always refer to that sketch as it was the first place we saw Dr. John. We’ll still slip in, “You know… he was selling tainted meat and he got hit by a meat truck. It’s ironic.”
“How many other people can claim to be a Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame-er, SCTV alumni, Grammy winner, Martin Scorsese concert film subject, and the inspiration for a famous Muppet, all in a single life?
Sad news
Ave atque vale.
IMO the best performance on The Band’s Last Waltz was Dr John’s. Absolutely incredible
Fun fact: Dr John was the singer on the Curious George theme song (and possibly the composer )
He also did Popeyes chicken jingles in the early ’80s.
Every time I go to Popeyes I hear that song in my head.
Between Dr. John and John Beard award-winner Leah Chase, this has not been a good week for New Orleans icons.
In the words of Doc himself, “True dat.”
“How many other people can claim to be a Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame-er, SCTV alumni, Grammy winner, Martin Scorsese concert film subject, and the inspiration for a famous Muppet, all in a single life?” That’s “alumnus.” Great as Dr. John was, he was just one person. Edit, AV Club, edit!
After all, how many other people can claim to be a Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame-er, SCTV alumni, Grammy winner, Martin Scorsese concert film subject, and the inspiration for a famous Muppet, all in a single life?
*alumnus
“Litanie des Saints” still gives me goosebumps and teary eyes. The transition from Haitian vodou rhythms and chants to NOLA rumba piano underscored by the classical music of New Orleans composer Louis Moreau Gottschalk is really powerful…
I went to college (and now live) not too far from New Orleans. One year the university was having a ‘Masters Series’ of performers come play at the auditorium. It was usually an opera singer or some well known violinist or some such bullshit. Well, right smack dab in the middle of the schedule was Dr. John. As students my friends and I got tickets for about $8. Apparently, we were the only students who bought tickets. Everyone else there were the big wig donors and alumni who all wore tuxedoes and evening gowns. Here we are in the center of all that in tee shirts, jeans, and already a bit drunk. The band comes out. The bass player with his huge afro starts slapping down a funky beat, and Dr. John comes strutting out on stage. The look of utter confusion on everyone else’s face was worth the price of admission alone.
I can’t find a source anywhere, but I’d heard that when Dr. John received an honorary doctorate from Tulane in 2013, someone quipped that now he was “Doctor Dr. John”, and that made smile. RIP.
My better half and I saw Dr. John play along with the Meters as a triple act with the Neville Brothers. Dr. John was amazing that night and a presence to behold as he strode on the stage with his cane like a New Orleans deity. While the Nevilles were a big disappointment (Aaron was obviously feuding with his kin that evening), Dr. John’s performance more than justified the price of the tickets. I’m sad to see him go, but damn, he left an impressive musical legacy.
We need more Nawlins music in general. George Porter Jr. from the Meters is still doing his thing down there, Tab Benoit for that swampy blues stuff, and dig Wolfman Washington – the Dr. would approve.