BBH: Yeah right, it's hard to say. 'Cause like now, I believe if I was a youngster, and rapping was going on, I don't think I'd just listen to that and dig that, because music was always in my mind. Even when I was a kid, and other kids were dancing, I didn't take time to dance, I was sitting at a juke box listening to the records. And a girl might say, "Come on, and let's dance." And I'd say, "No baby, I'm listening to this part right here, and then I've got to go home and learn this."

But see, I was musically-minded all the time. But you got a lot of kids that's got to be driven to be musically-minded, to bring out their musical ability. But nobody had to drive me; my mother and dad didn't have to say nothing to me, it just came out at the age of ten. But one reason, I guess, is because I listened to my mother. She was a piano player. She played piano, harmonica and guitar, and she played piano for the choir and all this. And I would listen to her all the time.

And that was one reason that she sent me to music at 12, because she wanted me to go to music, and learn how to read piano so I could come back home and teach her, see. And so she said, "I want to send you to music." "I don't want to go to no music." "Yeah, you need to learn how to read so you can come home and teach me how to read those books for the choir." 'Cause she was listening to the pianist that they had at the time. 'Was a guy, you know, at her church, and he could read music, you know? And then he would get a new sheet of music and she couldn't read, see, so she didn't know the song until he played it. But she had good ears, so if he played it, if that song was done twice, she could go home and figure it out, but if it wasn't done at all, she didn't know nothing about it, see. So that's why she sent me to music, so I could learn to read for her. In other words, I was her eyes and ears as far as that. So when I'd come home she'd say, "Come here." And I'd go, "What is it?" She'd say, "I got some new music I ordered. Play that for me." And I'd set down and play it for her. And when I'd come back the next day or something from school, she was sitting down and playing it, because she could remember just like that, you know

That's the way I did when I was learning. I had to learn from the radio station. When you learn from the radio station, boy, your mind got to be sharp, and your ears got to be mighty big, you know? Like I said, when I first learned "Okey Dokey Stomp," that's how I first learned it. From Gatemouth playing it on the radio, from his record. After I came to Austin and actually bought the record, there wasn't very much on that record that I missed. There was very few things that I missed on that record. By just listening you can think like they had about two shows that they would do that record on every day, and I'd get a little bit at a time. If that record wasn't a hit, then you didn't get to learn it too good. Yeah, right, you couldn't learn it.

Like Pee Wee Crayton, he put out a... Something I forgot what it was. Anyway, I never did finish learning that record because they stopped playing it. There I was, I was hung up. I know the beginning of it. I still know the beginning, and I kind of off in there, but I never did get the rest. Because I never did have a chance, 'cause his record wasn't hot, so they didn't play it enough. But Gatemouth, they played it all the time. T-Bone, they played it, and Lowell Fulsom. Lowell Fulsom put out a tune, "Guitar Shuffle," and I learned every bit of that because they played it every day, see? So that's what I'm saying.

Then when I was playing piano, little Sugar Shy Robinson... I don't know if you ever heard of him. Well, that's who I used to copy on piano, was Little Sugar Shy Robinson. And I would play boogie woogie, you know, and if they didn't play a song every day, then I wouldn't have a chance of learning that whole record. Because what it is, here I am playing shuffles like "bumbe-bumbe-dum-de-dum jum-e-jum-e-jum," and then all at once here I am going "rom-be-rom-be rumble-bum-le-dum," you know, like that. I got to learn all of that, you know? But I always had a good idea what was going on. I said, all he's doing is taking what I do one note at a time and making it roll octaves, you know, because I could hear it: "doom-be-doom-be dum-be-dum-be-dum." And that's what I could do. Now, whether I was a guy without any talent, see, I couldn't hear all of that, so it would take forever to learn something like that.

And the 12-bar thing... Like right now, a guy would say, how do you know that's a 12-bar and all that. I just automatically knew it. I didn't even have to think about it.

Like Sylvester, he has problems knowing where he is, 'cause he said, "12 bars just don't jump up and bite me, Hubbard." He said, "Man, I get lost all the time." I said, "Sylvester, I never had that problem and I don't know why." But now at the same time, I didn't know I was playing 12-bar; I could just feel where they were all the time. And later on, I found out that was the 12-bar blues, you know? I didn't know it. And if Albert Collins played something you know that's a 8-bar, I could just feel that, you know? If you play a jazz tune with a melody, I can feel that melody all the way through that song, so I hardly ever get lost. Like I say, not everybody got that kind of talent.

I know guys that do have it. James Polk got a talent out of this world, man. That guy... Man, he can feel things just instantly. When I was playing with him, we would learn a jazz tune, and Polk would feel that and right away he'd get on that big B3, man, and he wouldn't miss a step. I'd say, "Polk, I ain't heard that but once; how many times you heard it?" He'd say, "Oh man, I been getting it." "Say man, you do things, you know?" When you are learning things by Dizzy and all that, Dizzy Gillespie and stuff like that, man... Polk can remember. It's just amazing the talent that Polk has about songs, man.

He's got a lot of talent! And a lot of people don't know it. You don't really know it until you play with Polk, because he's not going to give you any ideas. You know, you can play with Polk and he's very stingy about helping you. Yeah, he don't. You're not going to hear nobody say, "Man, I learned this from Polk," 'cause like I said, he's stingy with his talent. See, he don't share. In fact, I think that's one of the reasons that Polk probably hasn't made it big, because he's got the talent, but he's too stingy with it. He holds it right there. He don't let other people get it, you know? And I don't think he would teach a guy if they would pay him. That's the kind of guy that Polk is. Sometimes I guess it's good to be that way, but sometimes I don't know. You may miss out. [James Polk has become a professor in the Jazz Department of Southwest Texas University in San Marcos since this interview was made.]

It's the same thing with Major, he's the same way. Major's real stingy with his talent. In fact, we could be in a club setting up and ready to play, and some dude would walk in with a record and Major would say, "That guy got a recorder back there!" "So, he got a recorder, man." "Man, that dude be recording us, man." "Who cares?" I don't, but Major did. Major said, "Man, I don't want people stealing my stuff." Sometimes I believe... Sometimes it could be good; sometime it could hurt you. And what case, I don't know.

I don't know if that hurt Polk any or helped him or what. But like I say, he was stingy with his talent. But he would always... I would say, "Polk man, this tune right here..." We would learn this tune, well, we had it by Larry Young and Grant Green, and it was a beautiful tune. There used to be a program come on Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday; the name of the tune was "Street of Dreams." It went "dadada-te-da." I'd say, "Polk man, I'm having hell getting those changes off of there." Polk said, "I'll write it out, sounds like a pretty good tune. Let's do it." I said okay. I played that tune for Polk one time and he was writing those changes out so fast. Shoot, man, that tune was hard to play! Once we got the changes, I said golly! And we used to play it every Sunday. In fact, Dad Jones used to come to the session every Sunday and he would request it. "Hey man, do 'Street of Dreams,' " and we would do it. It was pretty, man. In fact, Banks... Banks used to have problems with it, because, man, it is a hard tune to solo in. The first time we throwed it at Banks, he said, "Man, what is this?" Banks said, "Man, who thought of this tune?" And I said, "Ain't it pretty?" He said, "Pretty ain't the word!" He said, "Man, where are the changes going?" But Polk sat there and wrote those changes out so fast, man, it ain't funny.

And it was that and a lot of more things, and the things that he does on solos. And like he used to come to the Shack while we were playing out there and say, "Man, can I blow some bass?" I'd say, "Yeah." And man, he started playing things on bass, and Polk does such unique things on bass, you know? He doesn't camouflage nothing; everything is right out there, yet everything is right, you know? In other words, he is so easy to play with. And that's how you can figure a good musician. See a good musician is easy to play with, even if it's Miles Davis or Coltrane, see. But guys that think they know but don't know are hard to play with because they don't really know where they are going their self. But Polk get on bass and you can just follow him. He just "ptum-ptum." Every note is right there, round. And then I played with guys, man. "Let's do a blues in C," and I ain't heard no change yet. "Say man, what are you doing?" "You said a blues in C." "Yeah man, but when are you going to make the IV and the V?" I don't hear nothing. Man, what's going on? Then the cat says, "Okay, man," and he's going through the IV and V. And he hit the V and you know it. Then you say, "Hey man, you ain't supposed to do that!" And I've run into so many cats that's like that. In fact, bass players are very... I don't know how you say it. Most of those guys are fooling theirselves, man.

BFT: Watch out!

BBH: Most bass players are fooling theirself, man. They don't even know what they are doing. That's right. There are very few bass players that I play with. I tell you a good bass player, he knew what he was doing, W.C. He was a good bass player, man. And I went with a guy named Bubba Mitchell. Bubba Mitchell knew that bass. And then Hambone, Leroy Davis, he knew that bass. He knows exactly what was going on at all times. I am only naming the guys that I played with, and boy, he knew. These three guys knew their bass. But then I played with other guys, like right now, and those guys, man, it's a little wavy there, you know? Because you say, "Man, let's play this tune," and it's in B flat; and most people have the most problem playing a blues than anything else. You say, this is a tune by Sam and Dave and maybe it goes "da-da-da-ta-da-da," and they can learn that. As long as somebody sanging. The minute there ain't nobody singing and somebody soloing, whoom, it is gone! That's it, it's gone. And I say, man, how can cats be so dumb? I mean, a song don't erase itself because somebody is soloing. The changes are still there. And most young bass players, they don't know that. They don't know that. He's over there floor-showing "ktung-kung," going all kinds of place. Man, what happened to the changes? It's gone. Like I said, W.C. and Hambone and Bubba Mitchell, they knew what was happening.

[Tape change.]

BBH: Bubba Mitchell got so good that Polk and them started using him for their jazz session. They had an early jazz session before we kicked off Sunday night. And Polk came to me. "Hey man, we want to use Bubba on bass." I said, "Yeah? You got that much respect for Bubba, huh?" He said, "Man, Bubba is smoking, man." I said, "Yeah?" And Bubba played with them, 'cause he had ears for it.

I'll tell you another guy I played with quite a bit. He played with me after-hours, that plays a pretty bass line on blues, and that's Jeffrey Gene. You know Jeff, Little Jeff? Name is Jeffrey Gene. Anyway, he plays. Plummer is his last name. Anyway, Little Jeff. Man, he plays. Jeff was about, hell, I guess 16 or 17. He came out to the Shack one night... This was when Charlie was living, you know? And a guy, his cousin, brought him up there and he says, "Say Hubbard, man, let Jeff play a song with ya'll!" I looked at him and said, "Say man, does Jeff know what he's doing, man?" 'Cause I didn't know his name, and see my son told me, "Daddy, it's a guy that go to our school. He heard of you and he don't know you, but he said he wants to play bass with you 'cause he heard you were good." And I said, "Do he know we play blues and stuff?" You know, 'cause at that time disco and all this, you know? So, this dude brought Jeff out to the Shack, you know? And I said, "man, I know this dude don't know no blues!" And I said, "Hey Jeff, man, kind of shuffle in B flat." And he said, "Go ahead." And I kicked it off. "Dung-dung-dum-te-da." And man, that dude run me crazy. I looked at him and started smiling and must have smiled all night after that. I said, "Hey man, you are the first young dude I ever heard who can play blues, man. Man, where did you get that from, 'cause most youngsters don't listen to blues." He said, "Man, I be listening at you all." I said, "Damn, Jeff!" Man, that dude was smoking!