Inspired by this video, I decided to highlight three of my favorite mamas.

Big Mama Thornton is probably best known for songs that were hits for white musicians over the span of a couple of decades. She originally recorded “Hound Dog”, of course, and wrote “Ball and Chain”. As a leftover from the time of race records, her version of “Hound Dog” was a little, well, frankly, dirtier than Elvis’ recording, even with his hips taken into account. Notice that her voice trails off on the line “‘Cause you ain’t looking for a woman, all you’re looking for is a bone”. It literally breaks my heart that this video doesn’t have more views. Apart from the diversity of the talents on stage at the same time, the style and framing on this is just classic.

I first heard Big Mama Thornton when I was inspired to dig through the radio station’s blues vinyl after listening to The Blues Moon for ages. How could I pass up this album cover?

It wasn’t until years later that I found out it was actually recorded in various correctional institutions. A tried and true method for recording the best album ever. Solidifies how dickish bands like Coldplay are for recording in churches. Rock on with Eno, assholes.

Anyways, Jail is worth your time. Har har. Not real jail.

Next mama of note? Mama’s Family. Shit, yeah.

Oh, humble beginnings on the Carol Burnett Show.

You know, there’s a lot of bad programming that you have to endure when you are a kid. And your grandparents have the remote. I will never get that time back that I spent watching Lawrence Welk, which I imagine is the closest thing I’ve ever experienced to one of those isolation tanks. But hot damn if they weren’t completely right about this sitcom.

And the last mama of note…

As if we needed no other evidence of the douchieness of the other members of the Mamas and the Papas, the shit Mama Cass was put through was unbelievable. Allegedly, her story about improving her vocal range after getting hit in the head with a lead pipe was a cover up for the embarrassment over John Phillips keeping her out of the band at the time due to her weight.

Mama Cass’ death, despite the asshole “sandwich” jokes that persist, has some similarities to that of Josephine Baker’s. After a series of sold-out performances and standing ovations, she died in her sleep. It was the same apartment that Keith Moon would die in a few years later.