Remembering Danny Kalb: He Lived the Life he Sang About in his Songs
My “almost famous” cousin Danny Kalb died yesterday following a protracted battle with cancer. He was 80 years old and it was a tough ending to a life filled with highs and lows. Danny was an incredibly accomplished blues guitar player and his music emanated from deep within his soul. I say “almost famous” because he never seemed to receive the recognition he earned and deserved for his musical contributions.
Danny enrolled in the University of Wisconsin in the early 1960s but was already playing the guitar in earnest and started performing folk music in local coffee houses. There he met the scruffy and as yet unknown, Bob Dylan who had left Minnesota and was on his way east. Dylan wound up crashing on Danny’s floor for a couple of weeks and they did some playing together. They would later reconnect and perform together in NYC
Soon afterward, Danny dropped out and moved back to New York to pursue music as his full-time profession and lifelong passion. He hung out in Greenwich Village, the center of the NYC folk scene and arguably the epicenter of the American folk revival. Here, Danny befriended and studied guitar under Dave Van Ronk and within folk music circles, soon became a well-renowned and sought-after folk/blues guitarist. He played and recorded with Van Ronk, Pete Seeger, Phil Ochs, Judy Collins, John Sebastian, Bob Dylan and others.
I can’t remember a time I didn’t see Danny with his guitar in hand or within reach. When I was four in 1956, he made one of his earliest public appearances, playing a few numbers at my brother’s Bar Mitzvah. At family gatherings either in Mt Vernon where Danny’s family hailed or his visits to our house in Long Beach, Danny would reach for his axe and serenade us with his latest tunes or a few of his old classics. My favorite was his version of Alberta, a traditional love song which he sang in a rich soulful baritone voice and played with a sweet sadness that permeated deeply. I was raised in a house that revered folk music and the fact that Danny was so talented that he played and recorded with some of the all-time greats, made me (and our whole family) kvell.
But when Danny temporarily put down his well-worn acoustic Gibson J-200 and plugged in his Les Paul model electric guitar, he helped spark a new era in American music. He founded The Blues Project in 1965 (along with Al Kooper, Andy Kulberg, Steve Katz, and Roy Blumenfeld) blazing new trails and injecting a healthy dose of blues into the rock scene. One of the first all-Jewish rock bands, they were my Sandy Koufax of the music world. Danny’s crisp and soulful lead guitar work was integral in the band’s sound and helped elevate them to the cusp of rock stardom. The Blues Project took New York by storm that year and quickly became the “house band” at the Café Au Go-Go on Bleecker St.
I was an impressionable 13 yrs old at the time and relied on my brother to take me into the city to hear their shows. I remember those gigs in the subterranean Greenwich Village club to this day as a life changing electrifying experience. The band quickly landed a record contract with Verve/Folkways and their first album was recorded live at the Au Go Go. While it didn’t quite capture the magic of their live performances, it was groundbreaking nonetheless.
They were heavily rooted in blues and played loud and earthy but were a quintessentially well-rounded band that could also deliver quiet ballads, jazz, psychedelic rock and even commercial pop tunes. Since much of their music was improvisational and oftentimes tunes lasted 10 minutes or more, they were sometimes compared with The Grateful Dead. Following the release of their first album, they began touring and started to develop a national fan base.
Their second album, Projections, released in November 1966 was a studio recording and contained some of their best work. At 32 weeks on the Billboard album chart, it was also their most commercially successful effort. Among the classic tunes on this album were Danny’s 10+ minute version of Muddy Waters’ classic, Two Trains Running and Al Kooper’s Flute Thing, featuring some excellent jazz flute by Andy Kulberg, Wake Me, Shake Me and I Can’t Keep From Crying Sometimes.
Around that time I started playing guitar and although I never took formal lessons from Danny, I was thrilled whenever he was able to spare the time to teach me a few basic blues licks. When I was in the market for a new guitar Danny helped me select a suitable instrument. The rock band I played with in high school proudly incorporated a few Blues Project tunes in our repertoire.
After their meteoric rise, The Blues Project flamed out and disbanded in 1967 without having really broken through with a “hit” record and they never made much money. Their last large concert was at the Monterey Pop Festival shortly after Al Kooper left the band to form Blood, Sweat and Tears.
There were sporadic reunions of the band over the years (Katz and Blumenfeld are still carrying the Blues Project torch) but mostly Danny played solo or with a few side musicians in small club dates for the remainder of his career. He released a number of solo albums and was ever hopeful about his latest musical project or recording. But it was a struggle and as he says in one of his tunes, he truly “lived the life he sang about, in his songs.”
Danny is no longer with us but his legacy and contributions to American roots music will live on.
Click on the arrows to see additional photos/slide show
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opinion8ed2 
I was lucky enough to have met Danny when I was in high school, back in the late 60s. Paul took me to hear the Blues Project at one of the NYC clubs (I can’t remember which one). We weren’t old enough to be allowed in (the drinking age was 18 in those days), but because we were “with Danny” we were able to get in. I loved the show, and listened to their records for decades after that (and still do). Many, many years later, I worked at the Uptown Coffeehouse in the Bronx, run by a group of volunteers who wanted to bring folk music, blues, and more to Riverdale and later City Island. We booked Danny for several shows and found him to be friendly and approachable to everybody. His improvisations were creative and deeply musical. Though his voice was lower than in his Blues Project days, he still could project the emotion of a song. We were all in awe at having such a legend amongst us. I am sorry that he never gained the recognition he deserved, but he always was a musical giant to me.
Editor’s response: Thanks Jackie, those early days seeing the Blues Project were magical indeed. That would probably have been at the Cafe Au Go Go on Bleecker St., the epicenter for the NY blues/rock scene where they played frequently and were the “house band”.
Many thanks to you, Dean and your colleagues who ran the Uptown Coffeehouse years later for providing Danny with a venue to continue performing. I know it meant a lot to him. Seeing Danny wail on his original J200 Gibson folk guitar was a return to his pre-Blues Project roots in folk blues. Pure and simple. When I saw him play there he was not at his best, but was still a hugely talented musician and fully immersed in sharing his love of the blues with an audience every chance he got.
For Danny it didn’t matter whether he was sitting around playing for family and friends in the living room, for small audiences in an intimate club environment like the Uptown or countless other small venues he played, for hundreds of fans on a concert stage like Town Hall or for many thousands at outdoor festivals like at Central Park or Monterey…he lived to play, sing, and perform. I’m glad you got to be a part of that.
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Thanks for such a moving tale of Danny’s musical journey. I knew ( or remembered) only a little of it. The life of a musician is tough, even for those with talent and tenacity like Danny. Blood, Sweat and Tears was one of my favorite bands; now I’ll think of them a little differently for their role in the demise of the Blues Project. I’ll be spending some time over the next few days listening to the Blues Project, and thinking of Danny.
Editor’s response: Thanks Barry, much appreciated. I agree that making a go of it as a performing musician is rough and sometimes the criteria for success seems so arbitrary… but the same can be said for all of the arts, e.g., theater, dance, visual arts. The dissolution of the Blues Project was a result of a number of factors but it’s a shame they weren’t able to stay together for a longer period of time. I’ve been surprised at the outpouring of remembrances and tributes to Danny in music publications, blog posts and social media comments, etc. I think it would have warmed Danny’s heart to know his legacy was appreciated by lots of fans.
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Touching to learn the life story of a good man with talent, dedication, and rare achievement who didn’t get his due yet endured. “Almost famous” is apt; he lived the life and contributed to our rich history of music. We’ll say a prayer for him and embrace our own opportunities knowing that recognition may be illusive, yet we cannot know how we affect others . . . In our families or afar, out in the world.
Editor’s response: Thanks Judith, much appreciated
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