But Al Kooper – no slouch as a businessman – saw an opportunity. He arranged to do a live version of "Super Session," one that would be recorded by Columbia at Bill Graham's Fillmore Auditorium. He talked Bloomfield into joining him.

When the Super Session quartet took the stage at the Fillmore on September 26, Bloomfield was in a state of nervous exhaustion. Four days of rehearsals Al Kooperand the anticipation of another gig that would largely be carried by his ability as a soloist had deprived him of sleep and had pushed his normally hyperactive nature into overdrive. After two nights of performances, he collapsed and had to be hospitalized. Kooper was once again left to find last minute replacements and this time he called on the services of Elvin Bishop, Carlos Santana and Steve Miller. The result was eventually released in February 1969 as "The Live Adventures of Mike Bloomfield and Al Kooper," a two-record set on Columbia.

Sales, while not as brisk as for "Super Session," were still good. Mike Bloomfield thought the playing had more validity than it had on the earlier session, but he was still critical of the concept. Kooper went ahead and arranged additional live appearances in support of the records, trusting that Michael would be able to make it through the gigs. And Bloomfield, for all his protestations about the value of jams, began making plans for his own mammoth jam session at the Carousel Ballroom, now known as the Fillmore West.

In mid-December, at Albert Grossman's request, Bloomfield and Nick Gravenites helped Janis Joplin organize a new band. Grossman, Joplin's manager, had decided the singer should leave Big Brother and the Holding Company and form her own group. Mike and Nick rehearsed the musicians at the Fillmore and, while assisting them in getting their sound together, taped a few sessions with Janis. Joplin christened the new group the Kozmic Blues Band.

 

AFTER THE NEW YEAR, Bloomfield was busy rehearsing his own band. This one would perform live over two long weekends at the new Fillmore West, and the dates would be billed as "The Jam." Michael was still under contract to Columbia, and the label, seeing the success of "Super Session" and "Live Adventures," made arrangements to record the proceedings on the off chance that the performances might be marketable. Bloomfield, in turn, saw the gig as an opportunity to easily fulfill his contract commitment to Columbia for another record.

Michael gathered together an informal group of friends, using players from the now defunct Electric Flag and from the Butterfield Band as well as musicians he knew from the Bay Area. The resulting group very much resembled an expanded version of the Flag, with the conspicuous absence of Buddy Miles. Material included tunes Michael had done with his former band as well as blues and soul covers and a number of originals by Nick Gravenites and Bloomfield himself. Calling the aggregation Mike Bloomfield & Friends, he invited other San Francisco musicians to come by and sit in, giving the whole performance a comfortable, relaxed feeling.

"The Jam," a live jam session Bloomfield organized to fulfill his contract with Columbia, was recorded and released as "Live at Bill Graham's Fillmore West" in 1969. Here Michael accompanies Nick Gravenites as Ira Kamin plays organ. Jim Marshall photoColumbia recorded each night and eventually issued an album the following October titled "Live at Bill Graham's Fillmore West." The label also used some of the material for a portion of Nick Gravenites' solo record, "My Labors." Though both contained exciting performances, the records didn't find an audience and were quickly deleted from the catalog.

Bloomfield, however, had found a working situation that he was comfortable with. He had surrounded himself with friends who were available whenever he needed them and he had played a venue that was close to home. He saw that he didn't need an organized group with its concurrent personality issues and management problems, and he didn't need to travel. It would become his preferred method for presenting his music throughout the '70s.

In April, Mike flew to Chicago to go into the studio with his old friend and mentor, Muddy Waters. He had earlier proposed a meeting of blues masters with their younger followers to Marshall Chess, son of Chess Records founder Leonard Chess, and Marshall, eager to prove himself as a producer, had acted on the idea. He and Michael's old friend, Norman Dayron, organized a recording date that would include Muddy and Otis Spann and their former protégés, Paul Butterfield and Michael Bloomfield. Added for good measure were bass player Donald "Duck" Dunn from Booker T & the MGs, former Butterfield drummer Sam Lay, and Michael's ex-bandmate, powerhouse Buddy Miles.

Paul Butterfield, Buddy Miles and Michael Bloomfield perform on stage at Chicago's Civic Auditorium in April 1969, during a "Fathers and Sons" tribute to legendary bluesman Muddy Waters. Photographer unknownMarshall Chess had additional plans for the group he'd assembled, and he arranged for a tribute concert for Muddy to follow the recording sessions. On April 24, Muddy Waters and the musicians from the "Fathers & Sons" sessions – the name Michael had given the project – did two sets at the Civic Auditorium in downtown Chicago for a capacity crowd. Bloomfield, looking drawn and intense, turned in an excellent performance, sharing the stage at first with his former boss, Paul Butterfield, and then backing up blues legend Muddy Waters. Rolling Stone reviewed the show and had high praise for the blues portion of the evening.

Michael headed back to San Francisco immediately after the Chicago blues summit and went to work in the studio. His contract with Columbia stipulated that he complete a solo album and he was determined to fulfill that obligation. But Bloomfield didn't want to make another jam session record. He decided he would use the album to make a personal statement.

Michael created a number of original songs for the recording, and decided he would sing them all himself. He was by no means a natural singer, but he was determined to get his point across and saw no better way to do that than to feature himself as vocalist.

Of the new material for the sessions, four tunes stood out as intensely personal – and intensely disturbing – reflections of Bloomfield's mental and emotional state. "Far Too Many Nights" described Michael's anxiety and insomnia, while "Michael's Lament," a gospel-style dirge told of his loneliness. "It's Not Killing Me" characterized the chaotic state of his life, opining that "I sit and twitch, Lord, I itch and bitch over some small mental mistake ... I'm starting to rot." But it was "The Ones I Loved Are Gone," a hymn-like anthem about the break-up of Bloomfield's marriage, that expressed the deep pain Michael was feeling in his life. His quirky vocal seemed at times more a wail, bemoaning the "sad things on my mind."

Bloomfield worked on the recording through the summer months. Feeling insecure about his vocals, he repeatedly redid them and his guitar solos at Wally Heider's studios in San Francisco. While his guitar playing was as good as ever, the retakes did little to improve his singing. The LP, titled "It's Not Killing Me," came out in early October 1969.

Reviewers hated it. Lacking any real understanding of what Bloomfield was going through at the time, and expecting more "Super Session" pyrotechnics, they were greatly disappointed that Michael's first solo release seemed to be no more than a hash of faux country tunes and unremarkable blues performances. And for some inexplicable reason, Bloomfield not only thought he could sing but had decided to showcase himself as a vocalist rather than as the topnotch guitarist that people knew him to be. The album went nowhere.

 

MICHAEL BLOOMFIELD WENT nowhere, too. Once his solo album had been completed, he stayed home, read books, watched TV and indulged in heroin whenever his depression got too great. Occasionally he did studio sessions, recording with Barry Goldberg, with the folk duo Brewer & Shipley and with Wayne Talbert, a pianist whom he'd met through his friends in Mother Earth. His cousin, Haskell Wexler, a filmmaker, asked him to provide the soundtrack for a feature-length movie he was completing called "Medium Cool."

Bloomfield relaxes with a book and his dog Harry on the porch of his Wellesley Court home in Mill Valley during the summer of 1968. He had recently quit the Electric Flag and was recuperating from three years of constant touring. Alice Ochs photoIn June Michael spent a week in New York City, doing sessions with Janis Joplin for "I Got Them Ol' Kozmic Blues Again, Mama!" But he and Janis spent much of their time together on the streets searching for a drug connection. There were also a few gigs in local bars and clubs, but Bloomfield seemed to have lost his way. A Rolling Stone article quoted him as saying of his future in music, "I just don't know ..."

Michael's friends in the San Francisco music community were alarmed at his determined dissipation. Terry Haggerty and Carlos Santana, guitarists who had idolized Bloomfield when they were just starting out, paid Michael separate visits and chided him for letting his talents languish. Though he was moved by their entreaties, Michael could only agree with them that he was wasting his gifts.

At the same time, Mike and Nick Gravenites had come across a North Beach tavern that was struggling to make ends meet. Called Keystone Korner, the place was a perfect venue for the sort of ad hoc, loosely organized performances that Bloomfield favored. He and Nick approached the owner and convinced him to allow them to produce weekly shows, much as Michael had done at the Fickle Pickle back in Chicago. In short order, Elvin Bishop, Charlie Musselwhite and other artists were performing on alternating weekends with Bloomfield and Gravenites. The shows brought in the crowds, and in no time Keystone Korner was one of the Bay Area's hot clubs.

But Michael was still reluctant to commit to anything more than local gigs and the occasional studio session. His playing had improved, and his health was better, but it was his home life that now gave him the most satisfaction. As far as the general public was concerned, however, Michael Bloomfield had disappeared from view.

 

THERE WERE MORE studio sessions for Michael Bloomfield throughout the spring and summer of 1971. Then, on July 4, Bill Graham's Fillmore West ended its three–year existence with a gala closing night jam. Bloomfield led one of the evening's final sessions with guitarists Carlos Santana and John Cipollina, jazz pianist Vince Guaraldi, Santana's rhythm section and the horns from Tower of Power. At the post–closing party, Michael rekindled a relationship with Christina Svane, a young woman he'd first met some years earlier. Svane would become Bloomfield's on–again, off–again companion for the remainder of his life.

Though Michael had broken his habitual use of narcotics, he still was a sometime user of heroin, and there could be periods of prolonged inactivity. Bloomfield's disinclination to work was further exacerbated by a trust fund that his paternal grandmother had created for him, a nest egg that paid out $50,000 on an annual basis. If he were careful with the money, Michael could have had a comfortable living without needing to earn another dime. But his his generosity and absolute disregard for material things invariably ran up bills that needed to be paid. That was when Michael would assemble a band and arrange for a few months of performances.

 Despite his lethargy, Bloomfield's playing remained as good as it had ever been. The irony was that aside from an occasional appearance as a sideman on someone else's record, Michael was silent – most Bloomfield fans heard nothing at all from him. Unless they were fortunate enough to be in the audience at one of his San Francisco gigs or chanced to catch him at an infrequent appearance in Los Angeles or New York, their only reference point was "Super Session" or the early Butterfield records.

A partial reunion of the Butterfield Band took place at the Fenway Theater in Boston in 1971 with Bloomfield, leader Paul Butterfield and keyboardist Mark Naftalin.
Dave Agerholm photoIn an effort to capitalize on those heady days, Paul Butterfield's manager Albert Grossman arranged a reformation of the "original Paul Butterfield Blues Band" for a two-night concert in Boston during Christmas week. It didn't really matter that three of the six original members didn't participate – everyone wanted to hear what Butterfield and Bloomfield would sound like together again. With Billy Mundi and John Kahn substituting for Sam Lay and Jerome Arnold, the band took the stage as a quintet on December 21 and 22, and proved that the fire was still there. But there were no plans for anything beyond the two nights. Bloomfield returned to Mill Valley and Butterfield went back on the road with his current band.

Throughout 1972, Michael Bloomfield continued to play locally and do studio work. In the fall, he and Nick Gravenites began work on another soundtrack, this time for director Alan Myerson and Warner Brothers. The film Myerson was making was called "Steelyard Blues" and it concerned a group of misfits who were looking for a way to escape the strictures of conventional society – not unlike Michael and his friends. Bloomfield and Gravenites wrote all the material and hired Paul Butterfield and Maria Muldaur to perform it with them at Golden State Recorders in San Francisco. The resulting album was released in February 1973 and received better reviews than did the film. But Michael's playing remained in the background on most of the soundtrack's tunes, and for fans it was not really a Bloomfield record.

 

1973 BEGAN WITH Michael Bloomfield getting involved with one of several ill-fated projects. For the first time in four years, he agreed to participate as a leader on a recording session. His longtime friend, guitarist and singer John Hammond, asked him to collaborate on an album of blues and New Orleans R&B. Hammond had also gotten Dr. John to sign on, and had scheduled studio sessions for January. Michael agreed to participate, even though he was leery of getting involved in another “super group.”

Michael Bloomfield in early 1973, during a break while recording with John Hammond and Dr. John for Hammond's Columbia release, "Triumvirate."
Jim Marshall photoThe sessions didn't go smoothly, however, and Hammond eventually had to replace some of the sidemen. When Columbia issued the album, called "Triumvirate," in June 1973, the company's president, Clive Davis, was being investigated by the FBI for embezzling funds. All of Columbia's projects were put on hold, and the tour Hammond had arranged for the trio was canceled. As a result, the record received tepid reviews and failed to sell. For Michael, it was another unpleasant instance of hype and its ensuing expectations – a circumstance he was now more determined than ever not to repeat.

But 1973 was also the year that Michael Bloomfield finally began to perform in public with more regularity. There were several extensive tours that took his Friends quartet to places as distant as Miami, Boulder, Chicago, Bangor, Boston, Toronto, Buffalo and Woodland, Alabama. Michael's working band now included his close friend and musical partner Mark Naftalin, bassist Roger Troy and drummer George Rains. Nicknamed "Jellyroll," Troy was also a talented singer and added a new versatility to the Friends. Rains, a native of Fort Worth, had been a member of Mother Earth. The group worked together frequently enough that they developed a tight, cohesive sound, often inspiring Michael to new heights as a soloist.

In August, Bloomfield had an unexpected visitor. His old friend, Bob Dylan, dropped by for what amounted Bob Dylanto an audition. Over the course of several hours, Dylan ran through a series of new tunes while Michael tried to play along. Bob was soon to go into the studio to record "Blood on the Tracks," and he felt that the quality of the songs merited the playing of his old "Highway 61 Revisited" collaborator. But Michael was thrown by Dylan's D–tuning and odd fingerings, and he had trouble following the singer's changes. The superstar later decided against using Michael on what would be an historic session.

BLOOMFIELD BIOGRAPHY continued