With his first award-winning documentary, 2017’s Rumble: The Indians Who Rocked the World, director Alfonso Maiorana illuminated the profound impact of musicians of Indigenous heritage, including Link Wray, Robbie Robertson, Jesse Ed Davis, Jimi Hendrix, and Charlie Patton, on the evolution of rock music. His new film, Goddess of Slide: The Forgotten Story of Ellen McIlwaine, will cast a long-overdue light on another under-profiled character from rock history.
Maiorana’s 2024 Ellen McIlwaine documentary is the saga of a massively talented American female guitar innovator, vocalist, and songwriter who became one of the most buzzed-about artists in the late 1960s Greenwich Village scene. She was a critics’ darling and a true “musicians’ musician” who briefly flirted with fame but would find herself out of the music business and making ends meet as a school bus driver by the end of her life. Her two classic Polydor albums of the early ’70s are revered by musicians like Taj Mahal, Ani DiFranco, Jennifer Batten, Sue Foley, and Melissa Auf Der Maur, all featured in the film.
I attended the New York premiere of Goddess of Slide at Upstate Films’ Orpheum Theater in Saugerties, New York, a few miles from Woodstock, where Ellen McIlwaine spent some memorable years in the 1970s. The theater was filled with old friends and fans, many of whom had witnessed her performances at long-gone Woodstock venues like Sled Hill and The Tinker Street Café. Also present to share memories of and to perform were dobro and pedal steel master Cindy Cashdollar and the Band’s guitarist Jim Weider, who had jammed with McIlwaine early in their careers.
Maiorana is rolling out the film at events like the Doc ‘N Roll festivals in Boston and New York City in May 2025, Canada’s Hot Docs, and a return to Upstate Films on 6 April as he finalizes its theatrical and streaming distribution. In this interview, Maiorana tells the remarkable story of how Goddess of Slide came to be, how it survived, and how it changed with Ellen McIlwaine’s unexpected death before its completion. The director also addressed the potential and obstacles filmmakers face in the music documentary field.
Before you produced your current film on Ellen McIlwaine, you co-directed the award-winning music documentary Rumble: The Indians Who Rocked the World. How did that project come about, and how did it fare with critics and in the marketplace?
In 2010, I was approached by an Indigenous production company from Montreal named REZOLUTION Pictures, owned by executive producers Catherine Banbridge and Ernest Webb. They attended an exhibit at the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of the American Indian, created by its Six Nations Associate Director Tim Johnson. The exhibit was called “Up Where We Belong: Native Museums in Popular Culture”.
The producers, who knew I had a long love for music history and experience as a director and cinematographer, asked me if I knew about the Indigenous background of legendary musicians such as Jimi Hendrix, Richie Valens, Robbie Robertson, Link Wray, and Mildred Mailey. I replied an absolute YES!
While living and working in Vancouver as a camera assistant and operator, I visited the Hendrix House owned by Jimi’s grandmother, Nora Hendrix, who had Indigenous roots. As a 14-year-old teenager growing up in Montreal and discovering the Clash, Joe Strummer introduced me to Link Wray, the inventor of the power-chord and the infamous [due to its street-fighting title] song, “Rumble”. That experience was combined with the epic work and book of Six Nations writer Brian Wright McLeod; The Encyclopedia of Native Music, and the idea for Rumble: The Indians Who Rocked the World, a documentary feature film, was born.
After six years of research and filming, Rumble won a prestigious award at Sundance 2017: the World Cinema Documentary Special Jury Award for Masterful Storytelling. The film won over a dozen awards, such as Hot Docs 2017 and Doc ’N Roll London, and an EMMY nomination in 2020. It racked up all three awards at the CSA in Canada for Best Canadian Documentary, Best Editing, and Best Cinematography. Rumble was co-directed/co-written with Catherine Bainbridge, and I also served as the cinematographer.
With your new documentary about Ellen McIlwaine, you are profiling an artist who is a little more obscure than, say, Robbie Robertson, who was featured in Rumble. How did you meet McIllwaine, and how did the film come about?
While filming Rumble in New Orleans in 2014, Cyril Neville of the Neville Brothers urged me to purchase a Polydor Records compilation album entitled The Guitar Album. The album featured some of the greatest guitarists, such as Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, B.B. King, Rory Gallagher, and Link Wray. When I found it and looked at the back sleeve, I saw Eric Clapton, Link Wray, Rory Gallagher, and a female singer/guitarist named Ellen McIlwaine.
At the time, I always traveled with my portable record player for the film shoot, so when I returned to my hotel, I was curious to listen and discover who she was. I noticed a song, “We the People”, performed and recorded live at Carnegie Hall. The moment the needle settled on the vinyl, I got chills listening to that guitar sound, followed by her unique skat singing. The guitar sound was electric, half sitar and half acoustic. I had never heard anything like it.
Four years later, Rumble had a successful festival run and had begun a North American theatrical release. One very late night, I received an email from a fan of the film that read:
“Hello, my name is Ellen and I just want to say it’s about freaking’ time someone made a movie about Indigenous contributions to music. Seeing some of my old friends in your film was so lovely. I have seen it three times this month and am telling everyone about it.”
So, I responded: ‘’Thank you for those kind words…are you a musician yourself or in the music industry?”
She replied: “Well, I used to dabble in music myself. I play slide guitar, and my claim to fame is that I must be the only woman ever to share the stage for six nights in a row with Jimi Hendrix! My name is Ellen McIlwaine.”
I paused for a few minutes and couldn’t figure out why that name sounded familiar. Then I quickly searched my vinyl collection and found The Guitar Album with her name on it. Immediately, I emailed her back, asking: “ Are you Ellen McIlwaine from the Guitar Album?
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Can I call you?”
We laughed together! She wrote, “Yes, but only on weekends!”
So that began a two-year telephone friendship, during which I listened to her personal story and unique musical journey. After watching her perform at the “A Woman in Blues” concert in Toronto, Canada, in November 2019, we met backstage for the first time in person.
I said to Ellen, “I want to make a film about you.” She smiled, said, “OK”. We hugged, and were off.
Ellen McIlwaine’s life before music was also fascinating. Tell us a bit about her early years, adoption, and growing up as the daughter of Christian missionaries in Japan.
At five weeks old, Ellen was adopted by missionaries in Nashville, Tennessee, and then moved to Kobe, Japan, where she attended the Canadian Academy International School. Her parents had no children and were in their 50s. Imagine an American couple in post-World War II Japan with an adopted daughter attending a Canadian Academy school.
Those years in Japan were magical for Ellen at times. She learned English, French, and Japanese. She had a close relationship with her father but not a healthy one with her mother. She sang in the church choir for her father’s mission and played the piano at church, where Southern conservative gospel hymns were taught.
There were also tumultuous times for Ellen in the face of growing up in a conservative Presbyterian household. It was never shown in [Goddess of Slide] because Ellen wanted to speak about it at the end. She confided to me that she had been sexually abused at the age of 14 by the mission’s American family doctor in Kobe. With missionary parents hovering over her, the psychological burden she endured from that experience would be a lifelong struggle. One that ultimately led to her drinking as an adult looking for guidance and management in a male-dominated music industry.
I believe her introduction to war, religion, rules, regulations, and sexual abuse propelled Ellen into a rebellious life in rock and blues.
When did Ellen McIlwaine become interested in music, specifically the blues? Who were her early influences? How did her family and teachers at her religious college react to her immersion in and devoting her life to playing the “devil’s music?”
Her musical roots began with playing piano in Japan. She had classical music lessons while being part of her father’s church choir. Her breakthrough with Western music came from listening to her father’s shortwave Armed Forces Radio, a feed from a station out of New Orleans that played Fats Domino, Professor Longhair, and her primary influence, the Emperor of Japan, Ray Charles himself.
Early on, Ray Charles’ music and voice enormously influenced her. This was her baptism to new music and her soul.
After graduating in 1963, the family moved to Atlanta [Georgia], where she spent time as a college student. In the early 1960s, civil unrest in America was on the rise. Music was changing, and so were the roles of women. So, when Ellen discovered the guitar and dropped out of a conservative college, she began to play at coffee houses and meet musicians who forever changed and inspired her. Blues musicians like Buddy Moss and Mississippi John Hurt were a significant influence in developing her guitar playing. She credits Tina Turner and Gladys Knight for finding her voice.
Initially, her parents and church were not too fond of Ellen’s new taste in music at a time when the Vietnam War was in full swing, as was the Civil Rights Movement. Drug use started to creep into American society, and Ellen’s goals focused much more on playing music than getting married to a preacher.
Her father was a little more supportive than her mother, even though he was worried about the entertainment industry, especially when it came to young women trying to break into it. This American lifestyle, even for Ellen, was often a culture shock. She missed the spirituality and humanity of Japanese culture, but the music was what changed her life for good. Ellen had an incredible ear for music. On her own time, Ellen sang and played boogie-woogie music in the high school dorm where she stayed.
Ellen McIlwaine was an important face on the scene in Greenwich Village in the late 1960s and early ’70s. Who were some of the musicians she played and socialized with during her time there, especially during her long residency at the Cafe Au Go Go?
With the help of folk singer Patrick Sky, Ellen moved to New York in 1966 to pursue her music dream. No one could believe what she was doing – except for Jimi Hendrix. What the heck was a woman doing, playing and exploring the boundaries of a soundscape reserved for men? After playing solo gigs on the piano and guitar at The Gaslight, Ellen moved to the Cafe Au Go Go, opening up for Blues legends like Buddy Guy, Junior Wells, Odetta, and folk legend Richie Havens.
Ellen’s life changed forever in September 1966 when John Hammond Jr. walked in with Jimi Hendrix at the Cafe Au Go Go. After watching Ellen play a set, Jimi asked if he could join her on stage, and she politely said, “Oh, my God, YES!” Just imagine a white girl sharing the stage at Cafe Au Go Go for six nights with Hendrix, the greatest guitar player ever! It created a real buzz about her around the Village. This was her breakthrough, and what better musician than Hendrix to show her the ultimate respect?
Ellen played to free herself and other female guitarists from the business’s strictures and imposed musical barriers. She said: “When I moved to New York, I said I’m not going to be a secretary or do whatever. I’m not gonna marry a preacher like my parents hoped. I just wanna play music.”
I saw an early screening of your Goddess of Slide at Upstate Films close to Woodstock, where Ellen McIlwaine spent a few years and is still fondly remembered. Tell us about her time there and her only experience not as a solo performer, and her time with the band Fear Itself in Woodstock.
In 1968, after a successful run in Greenwich Village, she formed her first band, Fear Itself, which included Chris Zaloom, Bill McCord, and Paul Album. Moving to Woodstock was vital for her as the band performed at the original Woodstock Soundouts, the forerunner to Woodstock ’69. The small-town atmosphere was a welcome change after experiencing the grind and competition of New York City.
The people of Woodstock were in the middle of a musical shift that would forever change history. Fear Itself was integral to that scene, and Ellen’s unique talent was in the foreground. Everyone adored her. She was a new female talent with the unique magic combination of slide guitar and gospel-like singing.
This successful birth propelled her band to dream big and head back to New York and the Record Plant to work on their first self-titled debut album. The [1978] album was produced by the legendary Tom Wilson, who also produced Bob Dylan, the Velvet Underground, Frank Zappa & the Mothers of Invention, Simon & Garfunkel, and Eric Burdon & the Animals.
Ellen McIlwaine’s reputation was cemented with her two classic albums recorded for Polydor in the early 1970s [Honky Tonk Angle in 1972 and We the People in 1973], showcasing her powerful voice and unique approach to slide guitar. A focus of these were her live performances included within, especially “We the People”. Tell us about that and your choice to include it as the Goddess of Slide‘s opening scene.
When I first discovered Ellen’s music in 2014 on The Guitar Album, “We the People” was instrumental in piquing my curiosity. It was at New York’s Carnegie Hall in 1973, while opening up for the funk band Mandrill at a concert celebrating African American music, that Ellen McIlwaine made her breakthrough.
Here, Ellen played and recorded her signature protest song, “We the People”. a composition dedicated to the Lakota Massacre at Wounded Knee. This song elevated Ellen to cult status as she demonstrated her powerful solo guitar playing and Japanese-influenced skat singing. Every musician will tell you that playing live and sounding that explosive is not easy. So, when I thought of the film’s opening, I knew I wanted to reveal this incredibly talented woman whose guitar sound seemed like a mixture of rock, blues, Indian sitar, and flamenco-style strumming.
Combine that with what Ellen described as Japanese skat singing, and you will witness something previously unseen. I felt it was essential to establish an intro that even today’s audience would be astounded by. When my archival researcher, Terri Foxman, found footage of a performance of it on Canadian TV in 1976, I knew there was a reason to include this for the intro.
I also wanted her peers and followers interviewed in the film, like Taj Mahal and Ani DiFranco, to listen to her performance of this song as I filmed their reactions and commentary. This launched an iconic song by an incredible talent, one that will hopefully lead to a new audience through my film.
Ellen McIlwaine was also acclaimed for her covers of tunes by Stevie Wonder and Jack Bruce, with whom she later got to record. Tell us a bit about this.
Ellen was acclaimed for her covers because she always added something original, resulting in a signature performance of iconic songs like “Can’t Find My Way Home” by Blind Faith, Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground”, and “Weird of Hermiston” by Jack Bruce. Ellen often spoke about the honesty of these songs she identified with, meaning what she lived through at the time in her personal life. Ellen felt she could add a feminine voice to the songs and create a unique and personal guitar interpretation.
Without a doubt, her covers of these iconic songs established her range and quality as a talented interpreter with a message. You can’t help but fall in love with her versions because they grab your soul. Many artists like Jennifer Batten, Joanna Connor, and Amanda Marshall shared stories about hearing some of these covers for the first time when they started, referring to these songs both lyrically and musically as inspirations to kickstart their careers.
Fatboy Slim used Ellen’s guitar riff from her cover of “Higher Ground” for his song “Song for Lindy”, featured in the Hollywood movie Senseless in 1998. This somewhat tells you the impact her sound had, that 25 years after releasing her cover, it gets sampled and becomes a big part of the music scene in the 1990s.
Though it’s not dwelled upon in Goddess of Slide, do you believe Ellen McIlwaine’s career suffered because she didn’t play the casting couch game?
Ellen’s contribution to music history is undeniable in many ways. Her long battle against discrimination against women singing and playing lead guitar took a toll on her personally and professionally.
Ellen was ahead of her time. She helped shape the voices of guitarists worldwide, raising the power and profile of female musicians in a male-dominated music industry. When you have a three-record deal at the height of your musical career and, suddenly, you are asked to take part in the casting couch game or lose your right to play guitar, piano and write songs, you are faced with a pivotal moral moment that can change your life forever.
Ellen said NO THANK YOU, and consequently, the record industry in America banned her from signing big record deals forever. We are talking about a pure talent, a trailblazing artist who could play guitar like nobody’s business and sing like an angel from heaven!
In 1987, Ellen McIlwaine moved to Canada and became an institution there. What were the main achievements of these years up North and the cult that grew around her in Australia?
A new chapter began in 1987 when she moved to Toronto and became a Canadian citizen. Leaving the USA was a musical career risk, but Canada was her sanctuary. There, she made new friends and immersed her soul into new music, including reggae. In 1975, she recorded her first independent album after Polydor Records in Montreal, The Real Ellen McIlwaine.
Having studied French at the Canadian International Academy in Japan, she felt a deep connection to Canada. So, when she settled in Toronto, she became a household name immediately. No one had seen a woman play guitar like that or sing with such power. Within a year, she released her only music video for her new single, “Save the World”, from her 1987 album Looking For Trouble.
Her television concerts and interviews demonstrated Ellen’s growing popularity and the respect she was receiving in Canada. I mean, we are talking about an artist who, earlier in her career, had people like Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, and Tom Waits opening up for her or as part of a double bill. At times, she opened up for artists like Bill Withers, Johnny Winter, and Taj Mahal.
Just before arriving in Toronto, Australia came calling, where she had a cult following that showcased her talents at some of the biggest venues in Sydney and Melbourne. Three young women fans, one being Margret Roadknight, who had been part of the scene in Greenwich Village in the 1970s, started a tour management company, The Honky Tonk Angels, to book her on a big Australian tour.
Men and women, music venues, and radio stations instantly fell in love with Ellen. Her music captured Australians’ hearts so much that she returned a couple of times throughout her career. Her raw energy exploded the crowds into a frenzy.
Later in life, Ellen McIlwaine had to give up music and work as a bus driver to make ends meet. What were her final years like?
After moving to Calgary in 1992, she became a regular at music festivals across Canada and a few in the United States. In 1999, she released a live album recorded in Germany, and in 2001, a new album, Spontaneous Combustion, featuring Taj Mahal on two songs: a reggae version of “Mockingbird” and “I Bid You Goodnight.” This spurred Ellen to join Taj Mahal on tour in Switzerland and Germany as his opening act.
After releasing her last album, Mystic Bridges, in 2006, it was clear that Ellen’s career had taken a toll on her physically and emotionally. In 2007, she was invited to be part of Sue Foley’s Guitar Women Tour, with Rachelle Van Zanten and Roxanne Potvin completing the team.
After much success, Ellen pulled out of the tour, citing fatigue and depression. She started to slow down, making far fewer appearances on stage, and, in 2009, took a job as a bus driver for a Calgary Girl’s Charter School. Occasionally, she volunteered at the children’s hospital in Calgary, often in the cancer ward, at times singing and playing her guitar for young patients.
To many of her peers and friends, it was sad to hear Ellen putting her career aside to survive financially. Legends like Odetta, Richie Haven, and Taj Mahal would always call upon her to join them on stage or open up if they were performing close by. Ellen’s long-time friends knew who she was and what she meant to the music industry.
When we spoke about her job as a bus driver, it meant a great deal for her to connect with these young girls and take care of them. She had been adopted and never had siblings or cousins nearby. These girls had no idea of her musical past. Oftentimes, the local radio host would call Ellen to advise her the day before that he would play one of her songs on the radio for her birthday, October 1st, so she would dial up the station full blast and urge the girls to sing along, never revealing she was the artist.
The girls knew her as Ellen, the bus driver, until she passed away tragically. This humble and loving quality was the real Ellen, whom I spoke to and also fell in love with like so many others.
Your original intention in making Goddess of Slide was to use the film to revive her career, a bit like Malik Bendjelloul’s Searching for Sugarman [2012] did for Sixto Rodriguez. When Ellen McIlwaine was diagnosed with cancer and passed six weeks after, how did this, and the surprise package she sent you, alter the project?
When she first called me to tell me she had been diagnosed with cancer and had 11 weeks to live, I was devastated. I was so saddened; I could not imagine the film without her. She had quit her bus-driving job, and we planned to tell her whole story, revive her musical career, including a return performance at Carnegie Hall, and release new music. She assured me that it was just a bump in the road and that she could still sing and play guitar.
Some of my funders were skeptical about continuing the film without Ellen, without her point of view being expressed. Unfortunately, 11 weeks turned into four weeks, and finally, she passed away exactly 23 days after her phone call.
When I received Ellen’s ashes by mail, I knew I needed to continue honoring her legacy and finishing this film. With her diaries and Ellen’s wish to spread some of her ashes in locations that meant the most to her, I knew I was chosen to share her story and make this film about her.
What’s ahead in the immediate future for you and Goddess of Slide? What does making a music documentary successful take in today’s film world?
At the moment, I hope that film festivals will be open-minded about screening a music documentary. It’s important to share my film about Ellen McIlwaine because I believe her journey and her music can inspire a new generation of musicians. I hope Goddess of Slide can attract a theatrical release in the USA, Europe, and Asia and a vital streaming deal outside of Canada to reach the biggest possible audience.
In today’s film world, music documentaries are slowly finding a niche in festivals and streaming platforms. However, the battle remains on how an artist like Ellen McIlwaine, who did not reach the mountain top she deserved, can ultimately impact the film market.
Searching for Sugarman was an example of a great story about an unknown folk singer who touched millions of people. Like my film, these untold stories must always find a platform to live by because they are real stories of survival and justice in music that deserve attention.
Lately, broadcasters and funding agencies have been looking for the presence of famous artists in the final product to ensure visibility. I hope we do not forget stories like Ellen McIlwaine’s, which reflect some of the realities of talented singers and musicians who fall through the cracks while leaving an undeniable impact on music.