Showing posts with label Muddy Waters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Muddy Waters. Show all posts

Mar 14, 2017

Rollin’ and Tumblin’ with the King of The Slide Guitar, Elmore James


Rollin’ and Tumblin’ with the King of The Slide Guitar, Elmore James

by Robert Dean

In the annals of the blues, there are a few guys who get the nod for all time: Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, Skip James, Leadbelly, Charley Patton, Robert Johnson, etc. But, then there are the deeper cuts, the artists people talk about, but it’s unsure if they really know them. The thing about the blues is that, despite being one of the cultural backbones of American identity, much of its lore is shrouded in darkness. Which, for its context works for the music and gives a thumbprint like no other.

One artist who continually reaches up out of the murk and grabs you straight like a zombie from the grave is the slide guitar mad man, Elmore James. While his name might feel familiar, or you’ve heard him mentioned on a rock and roll documentary – you have.

His legend isn’t that of those mentioned before him. There aren’t movies in the works, books about him are hard to come by (at last count there’s a whopping one), and his records aren’t collector’s items. James is an underground, under-appreciated legend of the blues. He may not be a household name, but if you ask anyone who knows the blues, and they’ll all agree he’s paramount to all comers.

Ranked #30 of Rolling Stone’s greatest guitar players of all time, James was a guitar player who defied what the blues could sound like. While Muddy’s playing is concise, tight, Elmore James riffs are nasty as a dead possum lying in a gutter. He played an acoustic with a pickup drilled in, which gave his sound a ghastly, ghoulish quality unlike anyone else in that late 50’s classic blues era. Coming up from Mississippi, James’ music wasn’t quite the Chicago sound, but something that met at the crossroads of the new school brewing in the north, but firmly rooted in the traditions of the Deep South.

Dust My Broom is quintessential James filth, The Sky is Crying was a roof burner long before Stevie Ray Vaughn ever covered it. Go through the Elmore James catalog and you’ll see all of the greatest tipped their caps to the man known as “The King of The Slide Guitar.”


Other bluesmen feared James with his raucous performances and envied how good he was with a guitar in his hands. No one knew how to play a slide guitar like Elmore James. His ferocious playing, coupled with his raspy, growling voice, he was a unique talent, in the vein of Howlin’ Wolf. When Elmore made his way up to Chicago, he was ready. Packing the clubs, and cutting records, James was poised to be a force to be reckoned with in the world of popular music.

But, life eluded James early. At just 45, Elmore James died of a heart attack. He was on the heels of establishing himself as one of the premier bluesmen. He was booked for his first European trip with the world looking bright as the sun. Today, we’re left with a treasure trove of records that swings, that growls and moans. Elmore James isn’t a household name, not for lack of trying but because death came too early for such an enigmatic soul. Get right with the universe and get Elmore James into your life. If you have the slightest interest in the blues, there’s none finer than The King who was gone too soon.

Feb 2, 2017

Hidden Gems: Luther Allison – Bad News is Coming

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Hidden Gem you need in your life: Luther Allison – Bad News is Coming
 by Robert Dean
If there’s one genre of music I feel is essential to my core being, it’s the Blues. Growing up on Chicago’s south side, and having a lot of family from the Deep South, the blues is a musical stamp that’s been on me since birth. We grew up hearing Muddy Waters, Howling Wolf, Elmore James, and Little Walter in our dad’s garage. Sure, we got to hear stuff like Allman Brothers, Black Sabbath, Neil Young, Stevie Ray Vaughn, but the Blues made such an indelible impact. The sound of the guitar, the growl of the voices, those are home to me. I have “Made in Chicago” with a Chess piece tattooed on my left elbow.
Because of my Blues obsession, I’m a crate digger. I’m forever on the hunt for any legit blues vinyl. You show me some old John Lee Hooker or Bukka White records and you best believe I’m a buyer. I see anything with Son House’s name on it and consider it gone. So, when a friend dropped Luther Allison’s Bad News is Comin’ on me, I gotta say I was heartbroken. I was offended, I was beyond upset with myself that this filthy, grimy, animal of a record slipped past.
I take pride in being the guy who shows you the Blues. You come to my house; we’re grabbing some vinyl from the shelf and going for it. I converted my wife from rock and roll chick, to now her favorite artists are Leadbelly and Robert Johnson.
Most forms of music, I’m an open book, ready to soak in whatever you’ve got. I’m always down with hearing new stuff. But, when someone slips past a record from 1973, I wanted to puke. How could a record that sounds like a guy opening a can of Budweiser with his teeth sneak past me? I’m still recovering.
Bad News is Comin’ is absolutely the best blues record of the 1970’s. It’s a precursor to the analog, low-fi white boy blues populating today in the form of Jack White or The Black Keys. (For the record, I love and respect both.) The vibe on the record is so pissed off, so mean, it’s full of ache, but doesn’t miss a beat reinventing old standards and laying some serious heat. It’s one of those records that no matter how much Luther tried in his career, he never could replicate.
If you can find a better opener than Little Red Rooster, I’ve yet to hear one. It establishes immediately that Luther is one bad motherfucker and you ain’t stepping on his alligator shoes, ever. The energy festers, it boils over and makes the listener make than “I just stepped in dogshit” face when something is just that dirty.
Don’t sleep on this one. Luther Allison’s Bad News is Comin’ is a classic and if you’re lucky enough to find it on vinyl, it’s one your collection needs. Hopefully, you piss someone off as bad as me with it.
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