Archive for the ‘blues’ Category

Album Review: Blue Cheer – Rocks Europe

Tuesday, May 21st, 2013

They didn’t call it garage when ? And the Mysterians were playing “96 Tears.” They didn’t label it punk when The Stooges sang about “No Fun.” And they didn’t use the term heavy metal when Blue Cheer released their dipped-in-acid 1967 reading of Eddie Cochran‘s “Summertime Blues.” But heavy metal is most certainly what it was, though (as the new oral history Louder Than Hell – to be reviewed her soon – tells us) the genre label didn’t catch on for a few years hence.

Blue Cheer was the perfect band for listeners who found Cream too subtle. A few years before Black Sabbath took sludgy riffs and uber-heavy arrangements to their logical extreme, Blue Cheer was cranking out screaming tunes that aimed squarely for the gut, largely ignoring the head altogether. The band endured personnel changes and never made another album as truly definitive as their 1968 debut Vincebus Eruptum, but the band would be historically significant if all they had ever done was “Summertime Blues.”

Bassist/vocalist Dickie Peterson was the sole member to appear in all lineups of the band (save the wasteland years of 1975-83, a period during which Blue Cheer toured but released no new music). In 2008, the final lineup of the band – Peterson plus drummer Paul Whaley and guitarist Andrew “Duck” MacDonald – performed a concert for German television program Rockpalast; that set plus a pair of studio tracks has now been released as Blue Cheer Rocks Europe.

The set takes the listener right back in time: those super-heavy bass lines sometimes run in lockstep with the guitar riffage, and sometimes they hold things down while the lead axe wails. And Peterson shreds his vocal cords on an assortment of originals (some of which are relatively recent compositions) and well-worn covers that includes Mose Allison‘s “Parchman Farm” (and of course “Summertime Blues”). Listeners looking for subtlety and nuance had best steer clear of this set: instead, it’s a roaring, ear-splitting collection of in-your-face heavy-osity that demands undivided attention. Both ends of the sonic spectrum are filled: Peterson’s thunderous bass lines and Whaley’s precise yet lumbering drums play off of MacDonald’s fleet-fingered solos and power-chording riffage. It’s as if the 70s never happened, and – if, like me, you enjoy this sort of thing from time to time – that’s just fine.

It’s not made clear in the liner notes whether Peterson knew at the time of this performance (April 11, 2008) that he was suffering from prostate and liver cancer, but he passed away on October 2 of the following year. As such, Blue Cheer Rocks Europe stands as the final document of this influential band.

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The Bobby Rush Interview, Part Two

Tuesday, April 23rd, 2013

Continued from Part One

Bill Kopp: For the last decade, you’ve been releasing your albums on your own label. Do you feel like that gives you greater control over the music, the marketing, those kinds of things?

Bobby Rush: It’s good for me, because now I’m in a position where I can record what I feel I want to record. Before that time, I was doing what other people wanted me to do. When I was with other record companies, most of the time I was doing what they wanted me to do. It was if they were the smart people, and I didn’t know what the hell I wanted to do or needed to do. And I thought, “How come they’re to smart but I don’t know what I want to do?”

Now that I have a label, I still have a boss: the public is my boss. I try to do what the public wants me to do. In interviews, I try to talk about what’s true and what’s right. I talk about what’s real, what people want to read about. They don’t want to know about how much cotton I picked. What they want to know is, what am I doing now?

BK: You’re a pretty prolific artist; you don’t seem to have any trouble coming up with new material for an album every year or two. What gives you inspiration?

BR: I can’t say what give me inspiration, but I can thank God for giving me enthusiasm. I’m still enthused about what I do. And it’s my prayer that I keep that enthusiasm. A man can live a long time without water or food. But he can’t live very long without hope. I have hope.

Looking around and seeing other people my age and older, I learn from their mistakes. I don’t worry about the things I can’t do; the things I can do take care of themselves.

BK: When you’re writing songs, do you start with a riff, or a melody, or do the lyrics come first?

BR: I think about the story, about what I’m gonna say. I don’t think so much about the lyrics, specifically. If I’m going to do a song about making a decision, I think about what decision would I make if it was for me, or for my family? Because making a decision when an old woman is crying is different than when it’s your mama who’s cryin’. Making a decision when a juvenile is crying is different when it’s your own child. So I talk about the kind of things that make sense to me.

I don’t write about everything that happens to me. I write about a lot of things that do happen to me, but I also write abut a lot of things I wish would happen to me. I talk about little ladies, fat ladies, the whole bit. Because every lady in the world needs to be loved.

On Down in Louisiana, there’s some nitty-gritty kind of sound, but the content of the stories are plain ol’ Bobby Rush.

BK: Do you have live dates, a tour, coming up?

BR: Yes. You can go to bobbyrush.net for that info. [Note: at the time of our interview, and at publication time, the site was inactive, but we're told it will be up “soon.” – bk] I have maybe forty, fifty dates scheduled at this point.

BK: If you play anywhere close to Asheville, I’ll come see you.

BR: Thank you. I have a song I recorded abut ten years ago called “A Man Can Give it But He Sure Can’t Take It.” When I come to town, I’ll invite you out, and I’ll sing that song for you.

BK: What’s next for you after that string of dates?

BR: I have a new single that Dr. John and I did. We’ve been friends for a long, long time. We’re both from Louisiana. It should be out in September or October. It’s about the tragedy in New Orleans. I think it’s a good record; we’re all finished recording it, but we still have to mix it.

Let me say before we finish: I want to thank you for what you’re doing and what you plan to do. Because people like you make it possible for people to know about what I’m doing. And I appreciate it.

BK: Thank you for the music.

BR: You’re welcome. I will do what I can as long as I can. I know there will come a time when I cannot do, and I don’t want to regret what I did not do.

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The Bobby Rush Interview, Part One

Monday, April 22nd, 2013

An exemplar of soul-blues style, Bobby Rush has been an active recording artist for nearly thirty-five years. His 2000 release Hoochie Mama was nominated for a Grammy in the blues category. His latest album finds him moving more toward the sounds of his youth. Produced by multi-instrumentalist Paul Brown, Down in Louisiana is Rush’s 26th album. I recently spoke to him about the new record – bk


Bill Kopp: There’s a strong swamp pop/cajun/zydeco vibe to several of the songs on Down in Louisiana. This album represents a more direct combining of your funk and soul sounds with those styles. What led you to draw on that part of your roots in a way you haven’t as much before?

Bobby Rush: Of course I was born in Louisiana. I went – by way of Arkansas – to Chicago in the early 50s, and I stayed there for 47 years. And the influences of Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, BB King, Chuck Berry, on and on…those influenced me to change to do what [those] people were doin’ at the time they were doin’ it. I still had the roots of Louisiana, but I had forgotten it and didn’t do anything different. But what I did was add what I learned in Chicago to what I already knew. And that’s what I came up with.

I came up on the chitlin’ circuit, listening to Ray Charles. Still my favorite. T-Bone Walker, Jimmy Reed…and when you put all those elements together – and I like some parts of all of ‘em – it’s like a melting pot. When you put ‘em in a bowl and stir it up, you get Bobby Rush. And that’s where it comes from.

I always had this Cajun thing, but hearing Chicago blues, I fell in love with that phrasing and singing. Put it all together: blues, funk, Cajun, folk.

BK: Down in Louisiana is a more intimate-sounding record than your previous albums. Why the change?

BR: I agree. It’s not accidental; it’s intentional. I planned it this way for two reasons. In my category, as a black entertainer, there’s BB King, Buddy Guy, Robert Cray…those are the guys I’m in the ballpark with. Now, people want to hire me, and sometimes they can’t afford the price of putting me on with a big band. This way [with a small band], I can go in raw, go back to the roots of the chitlin’ circuit. The juke joints, where we all come from. And then they can still get Bobby Rush, but at a lower price. I think I’d be a little bit cheaper than most of them.

The juke joints are what got us all started toward where we are now. And we’ve forgotten about the bridge that brought us across. We’re makin’ all this big money, charging all these big prices, and the small places can’t afford us any more. So I wanted to go back and give to the people who made us what we are now.

BK: So the production and arrangements on the album sort of give a preview of what that would be like…

BR: That’s right. I can sit down with my guitar. If a guy wants to hire me for a festival with 100,000 people, he can. But if he wants to hire me for a little juke joint that holds 400 people, he can do that, too.

BK: The methods used for recording albums have changed a lot since you started your recording career. Did you make use of modern technology – things like ProTools and such – or did you try to cut the album live in the studio?

BR: All the sounds on the album are live musicians. But I did find myself, before this album, doing some things economically using some ProTools stuff. I do that because it’s modification. Ten, fifteen years ago, everybody inside the business was talking about the production of the musicians on the record, where it was going. When I started, there were 45s, 78, then 8-tracks…everything changes.

Twenty-five or thirty years ago, we couldn’t do this interview on the phone like we’re doing. Not and get the sound quality we have. It’s almost like the bathroom. In the 1800s, they had the outside toilet. But guess what? Now we’ve got the inside toilet. Bathrooms that smell good, the whole bit. But we do the same thing in ‘em! That hasn’t changed.

We modify how we record things, but what we talk about remains the same. People have to get over [being upset when artists use] the synth horns and all that. I don’t use those, but we do have to keep up with the modifications. I just bought me a smart phone. It’s so smart, it shows the dumbness of me!

Continued

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Album Review: Albert King – Born Under a Bad Sign

Thursday, March 28th, 2013

Here’s one often reliable method for discerning whether an album is an important one: when you first hear it, do you recognize several of the songs via popular cover versions?

I didn’t grow up with the blues; I’m the product of a white, middle-class suburban family; any “ethnic” music I heard growing up in south Florida in the 60s (and Atlanta in the 70s and 80s) was mostly soul or r&b that had crossed over to the pop charts. But as my interest in (and knowledge of) rock music deepened, I started hearing a lot of cover material performed by some of my favorite artists. One of these was Cream‘s “Born Under a Bad Sign” from their 1968 double LP, Wheels of Fire. And another favorite LP of mine was released a year earlier: John Mayall’s BluesbreakersCrusade, featuring the first recorded work of Mick Taylor. That LP included “Oh! Pretty Woman.” And then in the early 80s, I saw Eric Clapton onstage for the first time, touring in support of his Money and Cigarettes album. That record included an old tune called “Crosscut Saw.” On the LP and tour, Clapton was backed by some members of Memphis legends Booker T & the MGs.

Which, finally, brings me back to my original point. In 1967, Stax Records released an album by blues legend Albert King, a record called Born Under a Bad Sign. The formidable guitarist/vocalist was backed by all four members of The MGs, (on selected tracks) by one Isaac Hayes on piano, plus The Memphis Horns. Born Under a Bad Sign might not have represented the first-recorded versions for all of the aforementioned songs, but King’s versions – original or not – certainly informed a generation of blues rockers to a great degree.

Albert King’s approach on Born Under a Bad Sign was something of a hybrid: the beefy, assured and (dare I say) macho stylings more common to the blues’ Chicago variant, coupled with the slightly more down-home Memphis approach. And it worked. The title track (written for this record by Booker T. Jones and William Bell) is taken at a measured pace, making it more menacing than it would be had it been rushed a bit. Clapton’s guitar work on Cream’s version (cut mere months later) is closely modeled on this version. “Crosscut Saw” is built atop a clickety-clack, loping drum pattern from Al Jackson, Jr. The vocals are oddly muted on this track; The Memphis Horns are out front, as is King’s stinging electric guitar.

A reading of the rock’n'roll chestnut “Kansas City” follows; while King’s version isn’t definitive, it fits well within the context of the record. “Oh! Pretty Woman” is a swaggering blues that’s every bit as heavy as anything Cream (or, later, Led Zeppelin) would ever hope to turn out. A King-penned original, “Down Don’t Bother Me” is built around a familiar blues pattern, but the alternating phrases – King’s voice, his single-note-at-a-time guitar licks – strongly recall the approach of another King, BB King. Again, The Memphis Horns provide sympathetic support.

“The Hunter” (a composition credited to most of the personnel present for the session, save King himself) sounds less like a blues and more like the sort of southern r&b Stax was known for in those days, but even in this context King sounds right at home. The tune’s Lascivious lyrics make it even better. He takes a rare turn at balladry on “I Almost Lost My Mind,” a c&w weeper more than anything else; but some jazzy flute work enlivens the tune and takes it in a very unexpected direction. “Personal Manager” is a come-on in the proud tradition, and features some tasty piano fills from Hayes. And when King tears out the song’s solo – one of the longest on the album — The Memphis Horns initially engage in a lively call-and-response with him. But eventually they give up; the indomitable King wins this round. (An amusing side note: the LP’s original liner notes – reproduced in this 2013 reissue on Stax/Concord – the song is described as “funk at its best.” Who am I to argue?

Isaac Hayes gives the 88′s a workout behind King and The MGs on “Laundromat Blues.” In fact (according to Stax historian Rob Bowman in his book Soulsville U.S.A.: The Story of Stax Records) it was this song that led to King being the first blues artist signed to Stax. He had wandered into Estelle Axton‘s Satellite Records on McLemore Avenue, trying to get a deal with Stax. Axton suggested he cut “Laundromat Blues,” and the single would become his second charting single ever (r&b #29).

Hayes returns to tickle those keys even more expertly on the slow, slow blues of “As the Years Go Passing By.” As on many of the cuts on Born Under a Bad Sign, the stereo separation plays off the dialogue between King and the horns. (Production “supervision” is credited to Jim Stewart, suggesting that Steve Cropper may well have been in actual charge of the session.) The original album wraps up with “The Very Thought of You,” the closest King comes to playing in “standards” tender crooner mode. When The Memphis Horns take their instrumental break, he implores them to “play it pretty,” and they oblige.

The 2013 reissue appends the original eleven-track’s running order with five previously-unreleased tracks: four alternate takes plus an untitled instrumental that’s essentially (and happily) a two-minute excuse for Albert King to tear into an extended guitar solo. A pair of liner note essays (one by Michael Point, from the 2002 reissue, plus a new one by Bill Dahl) provide the historical context for which Concord releases are justifiably known.

Born Under a Bad Sign is an essential addition to any comprehensive album collection that focuses at all on rock, blues or Stax r&b.

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Album Review: Jeff Healey – As the Years Go Passing By

Wednesday, March 27th, 2013

Now here’s an interesting package. Compiled and released with the full cooperation, involvement and blessing of the family/estate of the late Jeff Healey, As the Years Go Passing By is a 3CD set bringing together three full concerts. Spaced almost evenly across an eleven-year span of time, these three shows – all done for broadcast in Germany – show the development of an imprtant artist. All of this material is previously unreleased.

The first show dates from 1989, and finds Healey fronting a stripped-down trio. His guitar playing is fiery, full of the energy one expects from a new-ish artist who feels he’s got something to prove. His playing and singing are assured, yet refreshingly free of cliche and any sort of rote approach. The night’s set list is a pleasing combination of original numbers from his 1988 debut album See the Light and some compelling covers. The sound quality is good, but bears hallmarks of compression for broadcast, and the bottom end is a little less well-defined than would be ideal. Still, fans of stinging blues guitar (in a rock context), especially those who enjoy such gunslingers as Johnny Winter and Stevie Ray Vaughan – will enjoy this one.

The second disc documents a 1995 concert. By this point the band had added a second guitarist, and Healey had moved in a more overtly commercial direction (i.e. more rock, less blues). While the playing is as impressive as ever, the overall feeling is a bit slicker, and the band seems a notch or two less hungry. But the song selection remains impressive: while it repeats four numbers form the first concert, this show adds inspired covers of a lesser-known Jimi Hendrix track (“Angel”), a heartfelt reading of The Beatles‘ “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” and a terrific, unexpected cover of Stealers Wheel‘s “Stuck in the Middle.” And when Healey cuts loose on his axe during a spirited version of “As the Years Go Passing By,” it’s clear why his playing is held in such high regard. Despite the slightly more commercial bent of this second show, Healey’s originality and overall appeal remain undeniable.

By the time of the October 200 set that makes up the third disc of this set, Healey had moved even further in that commercial direction. Subsequent events suggest that he was finding that approach less than completely fulfilling: he would son release a string of jazz-oriented albums. But on this night, he’s still in fine form, albeit serving up a more meat’n'potatoes flavored set. There’s still blues, to be sure: “How Blue Can You Get” is a delightful blues workout that puts the spotlight on Healey’s soulful voice and subtle, soaring guitar prowess. Four songs are duplicated from the ’95 set, and even the most hardcore Healey fans might feel that three versions of “Roadhouse Blues” is a bit much, but since the goal here is more about presenting full shows, that’s merely a quibble. (Plus, the dual guitar work on the 2000 “Roadhouse Blues” is pretty impressive.)

Healey passed away in 2008. The liner notes include a message from Healey’s family encouraging fans to contribute to Daisy’s Eye Cancer Fund, an organization dedicated to helping those suffering from the malady that blinded Healey as a child.

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Album Review: Freddie King – The Complete King Federal Singles

Tuesday, March 26th, 2013

Freddie King was a big man with a big guitar sound. An important figure in the history of blues, he’s also one of the most accessible artists in the genre; his influence upon rock artists has been such that when rock-tuned ears hear him, it feels right, familiar somehow. His good-timing approach owed a lot to the jump blues of Louis Jordan, but his fiery electric guitar leads pushed things forward.

The arrangement style and production of his singles has something to do with that as well. From his first Federal single in 1960, “You’ve Got to Love Her With a Feeling” (#93 pop) he took on a bright, forceful style that dared listeners to ignore him. But it was that single’s b-side, “Have You Ever Loved a woman,” that would much later become well known to rock audiences through a cover by Derek & the Dominos (featuring King acolytes Eric Clapton and Duane Allman).

“Hideaway” (#5 r&b, #29 pop) became an instant classic upon its release, too, and quickly became a part of many blues bands’ set list. Most notable perhaps was the cover by John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers (with a young Clapton on lead guitar).

The liner notes for Real Gone Music’s excellent 2CD set The Complete King Federal Singles features a fabulous and lengthy liner note essay by Bill Dahl. Dahl goes to some length to point out (somewhat hilariously, though not in an intentional way) that a number of King’s best-loved songs were often pieced together from licks taken from other songs. But – and rightly so – Dahl never lets that discussion detract from King’s estimable importance.

The instrumental “San-Ho-Zay!” is a fun and memorable tune that easily transcends the blues genre; its undeniable crossover appeal gave King a hit on two charts: #4 r&b, and #47 pop.

Due to the arc most recording careers take, coupled with the chronological approach employed in collections such as this one, the set is front-loaded with hits. Though the collection spans King’s tenure on Syd Nathan‘s label (1960-67), the string of hits ended quickly, with “Christmas Tears” in 1961. But the quality music continued: another b-side, 1962′s “The Stumble” may be the greatest song King ever wrote (or sorta-wrote) and recorded. Though Peter Green would use much more distortion when he covered it a few years later (as lead guitarist for Mayall’s Bluesbreakers), King’s original is a thrill.

In bids for commercial acceptance, King (like so many other artists of the era) made some perhaps ill-advised stylistic leaps: “Do The President Twist” is a fun — if goofy — novelty with oddly thunderous bass guitar. But 1963′s “The Bossa Nova Watusi Twist” was actually a minor (#103 pop) hit, King’s last for Federal/King. But the great songs kept coming: “Driving Sideways” and “Someday, After Awhile (You’ll Be Sorry)” (both 1964) also became part of the Bluesbreakers’ set (those guys again!).

Presented in nice-n-loud crystal-clear audio, The Complete King Federal Singles belongs in the catalog of any blues lover, as well as anyone who digs the bluesier side of 60s rock’n'roll. Freddie King successfully bridged the two styles, while remaining true to the blues tradition. Neat trick, that.

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Album Review: Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective

Monday, March 25th, 2013

Seven CDs represents quite a lot of music. And all of the music on Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective was recorded in the space of six and half year years. The earliest tracks date from spring 1965, and the latest cuts were recorded in fall 1971. But the 129 tracks span an impressively wide stylistic range, making the case (if such a case really needed making) that Duane Allman was one of the great guitarists of his generation. As a band leader, jam/collaborator and/or session player, Allman never failed to bring a fresh and unique approach to the song at hand.

While Allman developed a signature style – especially on slide guitar – he was adept and bending his style in the direction other artists’s projects needed. The result (as showcased mostly on discs 2-5) was that Duane Allman seemed always to improve a session, but he could do so in a way that didn’t necessarily call attention to him. It’s dangerous to project ideas of personalty upon an artist who’s no longer with us, but there’s plenty of evidence on Skydog that Allman was not an egocentric player.

On some of the tracks, Allman’s just there doing his part, and he’s sometimes buried in the mix. But if one listens closely, there’s always something interesting to hear coming out of the man’s guitar.

Some of the earliest material Allman recorded has circulated among collectors, and some has seen official release before. But The Escorts (one of his earliest bands) are shown to be a pretty tight little unit. The Allman Joys leaned heavily in a Yardbirds-centric direction, but they did it convincingly: somehow the band manages to sound like they wrote the songs, as opposed to coming off like one of those awful “not the original artist” acts on so many cheap compilation LPs of the era. And the Hour Glass tracks show that Allman’s band belongs on any list of important Nuggets-era garage/psych bands.

As Allman moved into session work – he was a regular and popular fixture at the Muscle Shoals studios – his playing ability advanced, and the sheer breadth of his stylistic palette expanded in many directions. His work on covers (Clarence Carter‘s reading of The Doors‘ “Light My Fire,” Wilson Pickett‘s “Hey Jude” and Aretha Franklin‘s “The Weight” to name but three of many ace cuts) shows that be brought his sensibility to bear on these unique interpretations of well-known songs.

Equally at home on soulful blues numbers (Otis Rush, King Curtis), odd, near-novelty tunes (“Hand Jive” by The Duck and the Bear) and art-pop (Laura Nyro‘s “Beads of Sweat”), Allman was a man for all seasons.

Skydog isn’t a cheap set: it lists for well over $100. But for anyone who has more than a passing interest in Allman’s music and musicianship, there are countless reasons to justify the purchase. There’s a healthy amount of previously-unreleased material here. And because Duane played on so many disparate sessions, the odds are good that you won’t have large chunks of this material in your collection already. Moreover, there’s a minimum of crushingly-obvious selections here, even though somes song simply had to be included (Derek & the Dominos‘ “Layla,” Boz Scaggs‘ epic barnburner “Loan Me a Dime”). There’s also less Allman Brothers Band music than one might expect (less than twenty songs), and when it is there, it’s especially tasty.

And the packaging is nothing short of stunning. Housed in a sturdy box made to look like a guitar case (right down to the furry gold lining inside), the package uses no plastic (except the discs themselves, of course), instead protecting the CDs in printed paper sleeves. A lovely booklet (color covers, duotones inside) is filled with discographical information, photos and thoughtful essays. A “Skydog” decal and commemorative guitar pick are also nice little touches. But none of that would matter if the music wasn’t wonderful. And it most certainly is. After working one’s way through the exhaustive musical history that is Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective, listeners will surely come away with a couple of enduring thoughts. One, Allman sure did a lot of good work in the space of a short six years or so. And two, had he not lost his life, he doubtless would have gone on to do even more of similarly enduring quality.

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The Jeremy Spencer Interview

Wednesday, December 26th, 2012

I’m a big Fleetwood Mac fan. But I should explain: I don’t care much at all for the AOR/California vibe of the mid 70-and-beyond megastar lineup. No, for me, Fleetwood Mac was at their best in their earlier days, when they were much more of a blues-oriented outfit, a sort of spinoff of John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers. (Namesakes and founders Mick Fleetwood and John McVie were Mayall’s rhythm section before launching their own band.) Boasting no less than three ace lead guitarists – let’s not blame them for Southern rock, though – the early Fleetwood Mac showcased the fretwork of Peter Green, Danny Kirwan and Jeremy Spencer. All three had their own distinctive styles, but Spencer’s was most influenced by early rock’n'roll and earlier blues.

Jeremy Spencer left the band in the early 70s (as had both of the other guitarists), and while he hasn’t had a high profile musical career (to say the least) since then, his abilities have only improved. His latest album, Bend in the Road, shows that he’s still got the fire. Here’s my recent conversation with him. – bk


Bill Kopp: The Elmore James influences that characterized a lot of your work as far back as the Fleetwood Mac years are still very evident in your sound. As a young man growing up in south London, how did you discover American blues?

Jeremy Spencer: Students introduced me to it while attending Stafford art college in 1964 — mostly the Lightnin’ Hopkins, John Lee Hooker style of blues, which I liked pretty okay and worked on playing it, but it wasn’t until I heard Elmore that I said, “that’s what I really want to do!”

BK: And what was it about the blues that “spoke” to you?

JS: It was specifically the call and response between the singer and guitar – preferably being the same person — like B.B. King and Otis Rush, which got me.

BK: Back in the Mac days, another prominent feature of yours was your love for – and effective pastiches of – the music of early rock’n'rollers like Buddy Holly. That side of you isn’t nearly as evident on Bend in the Road. Is your love of those early rock’n'roll styles still a part of your musical approach?

JS: Very much so. I recently recorded with a trio of young French musicians in Fontainebleau, near Paris, and covered some oldies of that era.

BK: On one hand, it’s remarkable just how much you still sound like you did circa 1970 – your slide guitar playing remains expressive, and your voice has changed very little in the ensuing forty-plus years.

JS: Thank you! I am amazed, too, when I hear myself back! People have commented that I sound like a seventeen-year-old. I probably would have taken exception to that back 40 years ago, when I was trying to sound like an old, whiskey-soaked blueser!

BK: If one measures your activity in terms of record releases, Bend in the Road is only your fifth album since leaving Fleetwood Mac. I assume you didn’t give up music during that time. Can you tell me a bit about how – and in what ways – music figured into your life these last decades? Did you continue to write, play, etc.?

JS: During that time, I mostly used my gift for art and within the last decade, a latent writing talent, but I was always involved with music.

Besides recording the album for CBS in 1972 and Flee for Atlantic in 1978, I had quite a voluminous “in-house” musical output over the last 40 years! That is, material recorded in improvised, but adequately equipped studios all over the world designed for use in Christian publishing and edification. The material included audio dramas, children’s songs and even scriptures set to melody and music.

It seemed that wherever I traveled and there was no studio, it was often a case of, “if I come they will build it!” The locations in sequential order over these years, beginning in 1971, were Los Angeles, Seattle, New York, Boston, London, Paris, Rio de Janeiro, Florence, Athens, Sri Lanka, Manila, back to Rio and Mexico. It amazes me to look back on it!

I can work tirelessly in a recording studio, and even when without regular access to a home studio, I usually have some portable recording device with me. And most of all, I have to have a guitar around!

BK: On your blog, you note that you cut 32 tracks in the sessions for what became Bend in the Road. Are there any plans or thoughts about releasing the tracks that aren’t on the finished album?

JS: I’d like to see those tracks go out, although some need a revisit, which I am itching to do.

You might be interested to know that some more 50’s-style numbers are in that batch, including a country song called “Durango” about a kid gunslinger based on the typical 50’s cowboy comic book scenario like “Kid Colt Outlaw”!

BK: Although in the liner notes, you mention some overdubs (most notably your keyboards) the Bend in the Road album as a whole has an organic, live-in-the-studio feel to it. Were the basic tracks, at least, cut with the full band playing together?

JS: Most basic tracks were recorded with full band. Everything bluesy was done live with vocal and full band and a minimum of overdubbing, such as an acoustic guitar or, as you mention, my keyboards, which were done while the vibe was still hot. I am still in the old school of preferring to get as much as possible down in one take. I was amazed and appalled when I first heard about composite tracking of a lead vocal or guitar solo from a dozen or more takes! I think something gets lost in the process that you can’t explain and you wonder why such perfect and seemingly seamless performances impress but don’t move you.

BK: I am assuming, this being the 21st century, that modern recording techniques were used to record the album in Detroit. Especially in light of the fact that your last studio release (aside from 2006′s Precious Little) was in the 70s, I am interested in your perspective on how recording technology has changed, what you like better about the modern methods, and what (if anything) you think has been lost in the migration to digital.

JS: Interestingly, Precious Little was recorded in five days at 15ips on a 24-track analogue recorder that a musician called Seasick Steve had shipped over from the States to Bluestown studios in Norway. Apparently, it was an old deck that had been used in Atlantic studios during the 70’s! That was a wonderful experience. Analogue and a tight deadline say “no” for you to the luxury of over-tweaking!

I have to admit that I was somewhat wary when venturing into the Bend sessions, knowing that we were going to be working with digital and its possibly opening the door to nit-picking perfectionism. Fortunately, we all felt the need to stay militant in capturing the moment, while benefiting from digital recording efficiency and economy of time such as when needing a quick fix-it.

BK: Three of the musicians on Bend in the RoadBrett Lucas, Todd Glass and James Simonson are in the Detroit band St. Cecilia. Have you done live dates with them, and what plans (if any) do you have regarding future live performances?

JS: While there in America, I did a few gigs with them, which were a lot of fun and went over very well with the audiences.

BK: There has been a welcome resurgence in the vinyl LP as a music medium. The original release of Bend in the Road was a double-LP. What was the thinking behind the decision to release it on vinyl, and (in retrospect) was the decision a good one from a financial standpoint?

JS: We (Propelz Music and I) would not have even thought of attempting such a vinyl venture had it not been for the relentless prodding and support of Sam Epstein, a film producer and a man well connected in the recording business. He loved the recordings and had had much experience years ago working with vinyl for Rhino records.

The response to it has been enthusiastic but limited due to international marketing difficulties, so financially it hasn’t yet paid off. In the long run, I think we will see that we made a wise choice, though, as Bend’s vinyl rarity and difficulty to obtain has and should continue to generate a certain mystique for the item! [Note: Fans can obtain a copy directly from Propelz Music.]

BK: What’s next for you musically?

JS: Besides sporadic gigs, there are no concrete touring plans, but I am very excited about musically collaborating more with the aforementioned team of young French musicians that I recently worked with. The guitarist, Mick Ravassat, and I are overflowing with ideas!

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DVD Review: John Lee Hooker – Cook With the Hook: Live in 1974

Thursday, November 1st, 2012

“Do you wanna boogie? Do you wanna cook with the Hook?” So implores John Lee Hooker on the audio track of the DVD menu on Cook With the Hook: Live in 1974. A medium-sized festival (historical accounts say 6000 fans, but the video suggests more like a thousand) in Massachusetts was the setting for an outdoor concert featuring Hooker and a solid backing band. The event was captured on black-and-white videotape by three cameras. The video quality is pretty poor; it was shot reasonably well, but the ravages of time have not been kind to the tapes. The audio, however, is a very different story: a fine, clear mix that give proper prominence to Hooker’s voice and guitar.

The band follows Hooker through a half-dozen tracks (this is a fairly short 45-minute program) with the right balance of precision and looseness. The backing players take their spotlights; the second guitarst even takes the lead guitar on “Sweet Sweet Thing,” and a lightning run on “Boom Boom.” (Funnily enough, during the latter, Hooker just sits there and doesn’t play a tall. Apparently he’s enjoying the solo as much as modern-day listeners will.

Much is often made of Hooker’s “metrically free” approach to the blues, in which the meter of the song is built around the lyrics, rather than the lyrics being set to a, say, twelve-bar framework. And while that’s true here on “Whiskey & Women,” for the most part – possibly owing to the impromptu nature of the performance – the songs on Cook With the Hook do tend to stick more toward standard blues changes. It’s also a bit strange seeing one of the musicians (the third guitarist) playing a Rickenbacker, an instrument rarely associated with the blues.

The liner notes make the point that this broadcast has not appeared before as a “grey market” (aka bootleg) item; no matter how hardcore a Hooker fan you are, you haven’t seen this show before now unless you caught it on local TV back in 1974.

What the liner notes don’t provide is any information as to the identity of the band members. True, it was a long time ago that this concert took place. What little historical data there is comes from some found newspaper clippings.

The setting for this show is nothing if not strange: the concert took place in a landfill, and the concertgoers are kept away from the band by means of a wooden fence. Throughout most of the performance, Hooker remains seated behind wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses, riffing away on his delightfully distorted ES-335. (He does get up, put his axe down and work the audience during “Boogie.”)

There are occasional audio deficiencies: during “Boogie” the lead guitarist all but disappears from the mix. You can see him falling away, but you don’t hear much. The audio is a bit better when the bassist takes a solo(!). It’s up to the viewer/listener to decide if that’s a good thing or not.

Here Hooker is shown as a man with little or nothing to prove, and he just gets on with it. The quick-cut edits between the three cameras bear little or no connection to what’s happening visually; they’re seemingly random, and more than a little jarring. But fans won’t be put off by the dodgy video production values; this DVD is both historically important and musically rewarding.

A quick postscript: as the concert ends, the emcee shots out to the audience, “A man in his fifties, and he can still rock’r'roll! Imagine that!” Well, I thought it was funny. It was the 1970s, after all.

You may also enjoy my review of John Lee Hooker’s CD Anthology: 50 Years.

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DVD Review: Johnny Winter – Live From Japan

Tuesday, October 30th, 2012

There’s no point in tip-toeing around it: blues guitarist Johnny Winter is old and frail. The cumulative effects of decades of drug and alcohol abuse/addiction (happily, he’s clean now) coupled with the medical problems associated with albinism make the odds unlikely that Winter would even still walk this Earth at age 68. But indeed he does, and in addition to getting clean, he’s also now benefiting from sympathetic management (something he lacked for many years as well), and is getting control of his back catalog back, slowly but surely.

In recent years a number of compilation videos have been released, including a pair surveying his TV/video work over the 1970s and 1980s. But the new Johnny Winter Live From Japan is different: it captures Winter and band as they look and sound today. (Well, April 2011.)

The bad news is pretty much what you might expect. Winter has great difficulty getting around. He’s helped onto the stage, though some clumsy video work attempts to hide this fact: an audience member just happens to step in front of the camera, hiding the stagehand who guides Winter out to his seat, front-and-center onstage. (There’s no shame in that: who doesn’t need a little help now and then?) Once there, Johnny remains seated for nearly the entire performance. And it’s also true that Winter’s voice doesn’t have quite the same ferocious presence it once did.

But the good news is that that’s the extent of the bad news. Winter’s playing remains as incendiary as ever. With his Erlewine Lazer (his axe of choice the days, perhaps due to its feather weight), Winter leads the band through a set heavy on covers. But those covers are songs that Winter has truly made his own. Freddie King‘s “Hideaway,” Bob Dylan‘s “Highway 61 Revisited,” and so forth. Winter doesn’t engage the audience visually – hard to do that when you just sit there, and you’re so blind as to be largely unable to see your audience – but he more than makes up for it with his playing. And that, after all, is why people come to see and hear Johnny Winter all these years: it’s not about the songwriting, and it’s often not even really about the songs. It’s about what Winter does with them how he delivers his shredding, bluesy riffage in a seemingly endless array of different ways.

The package’s track listing doesn’t seem to jibe with what’s on the DVD, but don’t let that bother you: just enjoy the boogie. The info on the DVD menu is closer to correct, but the packaging seems to have been done by someone who didn’t have the DVD at hand. There are a couple of “interviews” on the DVD, but these last under thirty seconds each; as I found out on two separate occasions, Johnny’s not much of a talker.

If you’re a Johnny winter fan, watching Live From Japan may make you feel sad for Winter’s health. It may lead you to say, “I’d better go see him soon if I want to ever see him.” Or not. But all that’s beside the point: if you like his guitar playing, and you’re interested in seeing and hearing that’s he’s still got some of the fire that helped him earn his place in history, then Live From Japan is well worth viewing.

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