Chris Strachwitz, 1931-2023
The death at 91 of Arhoolie Records founder Chris Strachwitz is a profoundly bittersweet coda to one of the most remarkably penetrating cultural odysseys of 20th century American life.
Born in Silesia in 1931 and arriving here circa 1947, Strachwitz’ passion for vernacular and regional music was as boundless as it was illimitable. Attending college in Pomona in 1951, he tuned in Hunter Hancock and Huggy Boy, sallied forth to El Monte Legion Stadium amongst the dangerous (to LAPD and LASD) mixed race crowds to gas on the explosive R&B of honking sax shaman Big Jay McNeely (music so inflammatory, Strachwitz recalled, that “the kids were unzipping their flies”) and became an avid habitué of Hollywood’s jazz and folk clubs.
An unparalleled figure in the music business (e.g. he actually PAID all his artists), he’d do field recordings in the deep South (introducing sublime bluesman Mance Lipscomb to the world on Arhoolie’s first release), scour the lowliest of beer joints and backwoods skull orchards for raw talent and long-playing alliances.
After a wild twist involving Country Joe & the Fish—his work recording a version of their “Feel Like I’m Fixin’ to Die Rag” earned him a portion of the song’s publishing (i.e. Woodstock soundtrack, kiddies), he used the funds to send Arhoolie Records into overdrive.
Perhaps the most illustrative of the Strachwitz m.o. was his work with those two powerhouse cousins, Texas blues royal Lightnin’ Hopkins (the first artist he recorded, in 1959) and Zydeco king Clifton Chenier. Hopkins, of course, had been extensively recorded but with documentarian Les Blank and Blues According to Lightnin’ Hopkins’ uplifting depiction, the singer attained even sweeter notoriety. Chenier, despite being a former Specialty Records act, was almost completely unknown outside Louisiana, and Strachwitz introduced him, and Zydeco, to the world.
Whether polka, norteño, Cajun, Western swing, R&B, hillbilly, old timey, Klezmer, you name it, Strachwitz documented and distributed a dazzling spectrum of American music. Significantly, he also began reissuing critical, long unavailable recordings of all genres (everyone from Lydia Mendoza to Lowell Fulson to the Maddox Brothers & Rose), and Arhoolie boasted a roster of uniformly stunning new recordings from Big Mama Thornton, Mississippi Fred McDowell, Snooks Eaglin, Big Joe Williams, Flaco Jimenez, Earl Hooker, Elizabeth Cotton et al.
Strachwitz always had his fingers deep in the pie and did whatever it took. When he learned that Modesto radio station KTRB was purging its country music library, he raced over to gleefully dive into their dumpster, “liberating” (as he put it) a trove of 78s and ultra-rare Maddox Bros. acetates.
Perpetually cheery and unassuming, with a quick wit and sparkling blue eyes, Strachwitz’ natural charm was as irresistible as his musical knowledge was encyclopedic. His East Bay San Pablo Avenue HQ was a wonderland, with the flagship Down Home Music retail store up front, Arhoolie’s offices in the rear and the brilliant film maker Les Blank’s Flower Films occupying the second floor. Down Home was a requisite stop off for touring musicians and it was routine to witness eager invasions by Los Lobos or the Blasters, all walking out with stacks of LPs.
His documentary collaborations with Blank were uniformly crucial, as was his thirty year stint hosting a Sunday afternoon radio show on KPFA. Strachwitz effortlessly elevated the perception, understanding and joy of all within earshot, and always made it look so easy. In truth, he was much akin to Atlas, carrying not just the world but a galaxy of music on his shoulders.
Rarely has one man not only touched, but profoundly enhanced, our shared cultural landscape. RIP.
Nice one Jonny