T-Model Ford: Keeping the Dream Alive

By Ryan D. Gorsche | Monday, April 1, 2002

'The woman's job is no matter what the man does, she gots tuh stands it.' So sings octogenarian (depending on whom you believe: every source disagrees on his age), womanizing, Jack Daniels-swilling, convicted murderer T-Model Ford, who occasionally slums as a blues singer. Ford is a self-proclaimed master of the 'one-chord stomp.'

T-Model stands by his philosophy of the sexes, repeatedly wailing 'She asked me, so I told her' on the first track of his most recent album She Ain't None of Your'n. After hearing his story about threatening one of his five (six, seven, eight?) ex-wives with an ax in front of their young children or another about 'puttin' a foot up her ass' —referring to his current wife Stella—one gets the impression he 'told her' with more than just words. Women who 'stands' T-Model's antics are a hardy lot, indeed.

Domestic violence aside, T-Model Ford remains among the most popular Mississippi blues singers recording on the 'Fat Possum Records' label, which employs some of the roughest and rawest hill country blues artists to be found in the Mississippi Delta. Matthew Johnson, head of Fat Possum, says, 'My artists have all had hard lives, and that's reflected in the music.' Consider T-Model's life, for example. Loss is a word he carries proudly: he lost a testicle after a beating inflicted by his father, his father and two brothers were murdered, he's lost multiple wives (one to poison, another to his father, and many who walked out), he destroyed one eardrum in a fight, and his freedom was nearly taken from him after a murder. All of that is reflected in his music.

For those who like their music digitally remastered by studio professionals, look elsewhere. The entire album sounds as if it were recorded in a tin can. The guitar riffs consist mostly of the same few chords pounded out over and over again, the one-chord stomp, while T-Model mumbles or screams unintelligible lyrics. Those few words that can be distinguished make no sense, such as 'I love chickenheads, 'cuz I just love chickenheads.' The old bluesman's pain is evident in his music, and often right in the listener's throbbing eardrum. Nonetheless, T-Model's music is strangely appealing.

Hill Country Mississippi blues, often referred to as the 'dirty blues,' is a distant cousin to the works of B.B. King and the Chicago legends, whose work is punctuated with intricate electric riffs and rhapsodically melancholic guitar jams. Hill country blues is bred in the backwoods and the fields with beat-up second-hand guitars played by hands scarred from picking cotton.

T-Model's guitar resonates thickly with plenty of distortion, as in the fourth track 'Chicken Head Man,' and often fails to match properly in volume with his forlorn, raspy voice, as in 'Mother's Gone.' The guitar often drowns out T-Model's voice, while at other times the guitar is lost in his deep wails of grief, which really put Fat Possum's recording equipment to the test—all this reflects T-Model's infamous refusal of second takes. What T-Model's music lacks in aural clarity, is more than made up for by his mournful, home-spun, and demented lyrics, the joy of an old man whose second favorite activity, next to sipping bourbon, is playing the blues. The album reflects the way hill country blues is played—on the front porches of shotgun shacks.

T-Model's one-chord stomp is a grungy beat and gives the listener ample opportunity to nod along with the stories of a man who's seen a lot—and lost most of it. This album is less about musical mastery (for finger-tangling guitar work see British Invader Eric Clapton's tributes to the blues masters) as T-Model often tricks the listener into loving nothing more than open-string strumming. It is about listening to T-Model, over the thrum of his snare drum, boast about his wood cutting ability, on 'Wood Cuttin' Man' ('I'll cut yo' wood so easy,' he brags). Elsewhere it's about his introductory childish babbling begging to 'let me RIDE' while telling you about his home, on 'I Got A Home' (which if understood correctly, is on Death Row). 'When Are You Coming Back Home' showcases fine organ work, even if only of three keys.

Being an avid womanizer, now reduced to crutches by a broken hip and nearing the end of his days, it makes sense that T-Model's album is composed primarily of songs about women, both coming and going. 'Leave My Heart Alone' is one of the more musically energetic songs; T-Model gives the guitar a thrashing, jamming out an almost punk-rock grind—at least as much punk rock as an old man can muster. The lyrics add edge to the coarse guitar as T-Model furiously explains all the ways his 'baby' left him.

The monotonous drone of the guitar that underlines T-Model's mournful crooning about 'mother's dead...gone on to glory' on the final track 'Mother's Gone' leaves the listener rolling his head to this oddly inviting and repetitiously woeful piece. On 'She Ain't None of Your'n' T-Model Ford describes a life so darkly comical that it must be fiction—only he's got the scars to prove it.

Considering Britney Spears et al., it's refreshing to listen to an artist whose start came after his 'woman left. I bought me a gallon of corn whiskey...looked at the guitar my old lady had bought me before she walked off. I said 'I'm gonna play this thing' So I hooked it up and hit a couple of good notes.' T-Model once bragged about a series of studio recordings, 'I like to get out there and whup some ass...today I figure I got it perfect.' With this new album, T-Model may be right. The album hasn't yet left this reviewer's stereo.

T-Model Ford: Keeping the Dream Alive

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