A "Run to the Store" with Emory Joseph
By Roper Whitfield

"Ewww, we're gonna need some more mint" , he says wrinkling up his nose and holding up a green bag of something gone runny. "Our fridge gets a little overrun sometimes. I never met a condiment I didn't like, so …"

" So there’s no room for the other food to breathe in there. Science runs wild!" his wife adds, smiling and rolling her eyes. "Pick up some puppy chow would ya? Boudreaux's out." So off I go on a "run to the store" with Emory Joseph. We hop in a newer, but not new, dirty green Land Cruiser plastered with Oakland A’s, and KPIG stickers. There are shoes and socks of various sizes on the floor, a Frisbee and wiffle ball bat, some bunches of CD shrink wrap, dog treats etc. This is a family car.

At ignition the stereo, which was left on and LOUD, wails high-octane bluegrass. "Yow. I do that all the time. Scares the hell outta people." he says, laughing. The music is disc two of the 30th anniversary edition of "Will the Circle Be Unbroken", the last generation's "Oh Brother Where Art Thou". “Vassar, I love him. He's always swinging, and his hair is always perfect!”

He tells me his cousin had the three record set soon after it came out, and that hearing it was "a defining moment in my musical life. In a lot of people’s I’ll bet". After a beat he adds offhandedly, "I wonder if they knew how important this album would be when they were making it? Seems like there must have been a lot more outtakes they could have included on this Anniversary Edition. They probably want us to buy a box set next year"

The music he carries in his car is, for the most part, in big books. But recent purchases are scattered within arms reach of the driver, and to my surprise, hardly ever contain the disc they're supposed to. "they're usually one off, depending on what was in the stereo when I got in the car. I think Steve Earle is in that Meters' case " he said, noticing my search. He travels with a lot of music. Some of it is more as gris-gris material than it is active listening fare.

I ask him about a {jazz trumpeter} Clifford Brown disc I find, and his response is a concise, insightful assessment of the man, his music and how Brown's experience has direct relevance to his own life. "Cliff was a sweet family man whose playing burned like fire. I think he was the was the first guy in the Bird era to prove you didn't have to be a doper to bop great. I think, had he lived, he'd be considered right up there with Dizzy and Miles."

About Ry Cooder he says, with a shaking head of reverence, "Ryland’s the man. Like Randy Newman, and most all his 70's Warner label mates, He must have felt qualified and encouraged to record sounds and stories that years before would have to have been "race records" or some crazy shit like that. Can you imagine the sessions? I've learned so much from artists like them and David Lindley; about drawing from what you admire and still having something original to say."

We talk about music for a long time, winding through Berkeley and Oakland. Although everything about him seems loose, I get a clear picture of a person who’s spent most of a a lifetime studying music and musicians It’s nicely apparent that he has the utmost interest and respect for his musical elders, and for people in general really.

The conversation meanders like the route we’re taking to the store. We talk about Stuff (the band), his friendship with late blues great Albert Collins, about Dr, John and Leon Russell’s feud, about Lowell George, Michael Hurley, about everything New Orleanian, about disk jockeys and horses, about dogs, hitchhiking, about a great lot of things.

Although he didn't say it, I sensed that the joy and depth these things had added to his life had somehow left him with a debt to pay. One he might be getting close to settling.

"Hey I know", he says as we're passing another supermarket, "let's stop and see Virginia at E & J's." E & J's turns out to be Everett and Jones BBQ in Oakland. His friend Virginia smiles and hails him at the door.

"Hey there you" she says smiling, offering and getting a hug. "Hey there yourself. How's everything? "

We linger awhile in the BBQ shop, talking and eating. They catch up with each other, and I eat and read the Bible passages and quotes that completely cover her walls. Noticeably absent from the conversation is anything about music, which I know rules his life and I guess (gospel) always fills her place. What they do talk about graciously includes me and mine, and I get the feeling that I would end up spending a fair amount of time here if I lived in the Bay Area.

"I really love her shiny style." he says of his friend, "Since I met her, anytime we're not cooking home for family occasions, there's a good chance we're eating Virginia’s food. She puts a lot of love in them pots.”

On our way out, we head to the Danish bakery on the corner to get some of his daughter Lily's favorite cookies. Eventually we're back in the car, listening to "Colossal Head" by Los Lobos. I'm thinking we're probably not headed to the store just yet.

(continued)