Mojo’s Cold Shot: Buddy Guy & Junior Wells, “A Man of Many Words”

I think I speak for all of Popdose, going through a painful migration to the latest version of Wordpress, that we have had the freeeeeeekin’ blues this week. To my compadres at the site, I offer this phenomenal cut, “A Man of Many Words,” from one of the tastiest blues records of the 20th century, Buddy Guy & Junior Wells Play the Blues.

The album finds both artists are at their absolute, positive critical and popular peak. In fact, you just can’t go wrong buying any of their legendary collaborative albums from this period, most of which have been re-released on Rhino.

The sad thing for us writers is that, in the end, this song isn’t about writing. Buddy really isn’t sympathizing with us and our tribulations. The writing in this song — itself a transparent rewriting of the Stax/Otis Redding joint “Hard to Handle,” later remade by the Black Crowes — has nothing to do with pens, quills, keyboards or Black-freakin-berries. In fact, it’s just another song about the protagonist’s stamina in the sack.

Anyway, it’s a blues song. It’s about writing. It fits our week here at Popdose. If you don’t have this record, go get the sumbitch. Here’s a video of Buddy Guy performing the song live sans Wells, which if you had any doubt about how blues evolved into rock (and how Hendrix learned his entire fucking act at the altar of Buddy Guy) you got it all in one sweet little clip. It also is proof that the most Wordpress-ig’nant writer of the staff can embed YouTubes in the new era…if it indeed shows up in this post:

Mojo’s Cold Shot: Cephas & Wiggins, “Sounds of the Blues”

I am an unabashed fan of Cephas & Wiggins, who bring a modern take on traditional folk blues. In interviews, they’re gentlemen, who love telling their stories and giving thoughtful takes on where blues has come from, where it’s going, and what they’re doing.

Guitarist John Cephas is 78, while harmonica player Phil Wiggins is nearly a quarter-century his junior. They met at a D.C. festival in 1977, and record for Alligator Records. In the three decades they’ve recorded their brand of Piedmont folk blues, they’ve slowly, quietly built a fan following who might not know of all the traditions from which they draw–but they know talented musicians playing good music when they hear it. For the record, they go wa-a-a-y back in the blues canon, styling their tuneage after ancient greats like Blind Boy Fuller, Reverend Gary Davis, and Blind Willie McTell.

You gotta decide whether their sound’s up your alley, but a great sample with which to start is “Sounds of the Blues,” which elegantly uses onomatopoeia to describe the last chapter of what seems to be a long relationship. But we’ll never know, because these guys do what the best songwriters do: Leave enough to the imagination to make the listening a very personal experience.

Mojo’s Cold Shot: Buddy Guy, “Skin Deep”

This is the first Cold Shot that features a whole album. We (that’s all my personalities combined) are pretty psyched about that.

See, Buddy Guy’s a favorite of the Cold Shot space: the man not only inspired two-thirds of Jimi Hendrix’s act, making him the grandfather of all those 1970s and ’80s guitar heroes from Page to Clapton to whoever it was that played guitar in Cinderella, but the guy still has not lost his edge at the ripe old age of 72.

B.B. King, God love ‘im, has lost a step. I would still fork over $60 to see B.B., don’t get me wrong — he’s still a strong and beautiful American icon who always comes with a full horn section in tow. But Buddy Guy is still laser sharp, white hot with the guitar and the vocals. While the production on his new album, Skin Deep (due July 22 on Silvertone), might be slicker and more digital-clean than his phenomenal 1970s Junior Wells collaborations, Drinkin’ TNT & Smokin’ Dynamite and Buddy Guy & Junior Wells Play the Blues, and though the horns are somewhat dialed back in places, it otherwise sounds like the same dude on guitar.

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Mojo’s Cold Shot: Bo Diddley, “Before You Accuse Me”

The passing of Bo Diddley got me on a hardcore listening jag. Doesn’t take much to get me back on Bo, and there are several other blues and quasi-blues dudes — Elmore James, ZZ Top, Buddy Guy, Chuck Berry, Professor Longhair, James Booker — that I go back to whenever I need to reset my compass, or blow out the mucus that builds up in my musical system after I’ve been subjected to too much Top 40 or MTV crapola.

If you’re in need of such a cold shot yourself, grab an original recording of “Before You Accuse Me,” one of the blues standards Bo Diddley wrote. It underscores how he was a cross-genre superstar, equally facile at blues, rock, R&B, pop, and, later in life, soul.

The mark of a classic blues song is its ability to translate its power when other artists cover it. This is a topic best brought up in a separate post, but I’ll risk getting pounded in the comments by saying I’m not much of a Clapton fan; he can de-blues even the bluesiest, foolproof song when he sets his mind to it. But even he can’t screw up “Before You Accuse Me” (I’m denying his Unplugged version exists for the purposes of this discussion).

Mojo’s Cold Shot: Paul “Wine” Jones, “Pucker Up Buttercup”

“Johnny Cash, he’s scared of me,” Paul “Wine” Jones said to me in one of the most endearing moments of my blues fandom, which came circa spring, 2002. “I played with him once, and I scared him.”

At the time, standing in a pink satin suit on the floor of the House of Blues in Cambridge, Mass., Wine looked like a fish out of water, but perfectly comfortable in his own skin. Fat Possum had sent artists T-Model Ford, Wine, and one of their other label-mates–can’t remember which, and I can’t Google it for the life of me–to do a gig in Harvard’s backyard, and the crowd of upscale-yuppie suits, yuppies-to-be Cambridge students, and old-guard east-coast liberals didn’t really know what to make of the Fat Possum style of blues.

And the Fat Possum guys were so insular, they didn’t take offense at the lack of comprehension and appreciation of their art.

I was there with a couple other writers and blues nuts, and we bought Wine a couple adult beverages, and chatted with him between sets as T-Model did his thing on stage. It was a surreal night, but we were so glad they took the time and effort to come up to our neck of the woods and play their Hill Country noise for us. Wine played his “hit” at the time, “Pucker Up Buttercup,” from his CD of the same name at least twice, but we didn’t mind.

No, we couldn’t ever get him to elaborate on what about him scared The Man in Black, who’s seen a lot of scary things in his live and didn’t think twice about them.

Mojo’s Cold Shot (Statutory Rock Edition): “Shake, Rattle and Roll”

Originally, this fine blog entry was crafted exclusively for the awesome Popdose Statutory Rock List, but alas, as I am wont to do — such as right here in the far-too-long opener to this week’s Cold Shot, special Statutory Rock Edition — I ran at the keyboard wa-a-a-y too long and we decided to put it in the refrigerator for a few days and save it for this space.

Today, Cold Shot hashes the lyrics of “Shake, Rattle and Roll,” covered by three different acts: Big Joe Turner (1954), Elvis Presley (1955), and Bill Haley & the Comets (1954), which for my money, is one of the dirtiest songs of all time — but since most people equate Bill Haley and early Elvis with quaint old country-billy and the Donna Reed era of pre-acid sock hops and ‘57 Chevys, these horndogs get a free pass.

In the 1950s, teen ‘tang wasn’t just the purview of grizzled old rock stars. It was an uplifting cultural phenomenon that helped break down the color barrier. In fact, one might say it “inspired” some crucial, er, “events” that made America the celebrated ethnic melting pot it is today.

Case in point: Generally considered a lyric that discusses the deflowering of a young virgin, Big Joe sings “I’m like a one-eyed cat, peepin’ in a seafood store/I’m gonna look at you,’till you ain’t no child no more.”

Elvis covered it verbatim in the Sun Records rockabilly style. Together, the most influential black and white singers of the mid-1950s brought together audiences from all walks of life. Note: The original Elvis Sun recording of this cut didn’t make it to commercial release until the 1990s, but he did sing it on TV back in the day coupled with the hastily written copycat followup “Flip, Flop and Fly.” There is no doubt The Pelvis was singing this song at live gigs and getting those gals all wound up. For good measure, Sam Cooke later covered it with the skeeve intact (and we’re not even drilling down deeper into the lyrics, such as the see-through dress issues and just exactly what were they doing in bed before Big Joe et al demands some breakfast).

We will, however, bring up this little gem of a lyric from later on in the cut: “I get over the hill and way down underneath/You make me roll my eyes, even make me grit my teeth.” (more…)

Mojo’s Cold Shot: The Meters, “Cabbage Alley”

The Meters, generally known for bringing some of the hottest funk in the 1970s, remain one of the “least underground” underground bands of all time. One of those bands you’ve heard of but you can’t name any of their songs, and if you can I bet it’s “Cissy Strut” then you still can’t hum a bar to save your life if you were born outside of the Crescent City. We here at Popdose hope to change that.

Part of why the Meters’ funk was so delectable as much as, say, the locals will tell you the softshell crab at Brightsen’s is, even though you have to get off your lazy tourist bum and get out of the Quarter to taste you some was because Art Neville and his funky colleagues built the band’s sound upon a beautiful blues/R&B foundation: the chords, the rhythms, the feel. While other funk bands were innovating, and in the case of Funkadelic getting downright experimental, the Meters pumped out solid retro sounds with the at-the-time wild new funk beats laid down by George Porter Jr., not a household name to the average fan, but to bass players a Mount Rushmore figure.

This back-to-the-future approach suits the New Orleans musi-cultural approach to everything, mingling the old junk with the new style. Whether it’s politics, architecture, outsider art, or “Cabbage Alley,” a Meters cut built on a couple slowed-down musical phrases from Professor Longhair’s famous hit “Tipitina” (so famous they named a bar after it), there’s no separating the influences. Damn, it’s good, like some sort of Creole stew that’s simmered just right. If you’re new to the Meters who kind of morphed into the world-music-y pop group the Neville Brothers at some point, when Aaron and a couple other cats joined forces there’s no finer place to start than Rhino’s The Very Best of the Meters, which includes this song.

Mojo’s Cold Shot: Billy Boy Arnold, “Rockinitis”

This is a “just listen” day. In other words, if you really are interested in the backstory on this cat, open a new window and google it. I’m just providing you with sonic wallpaper for your quest.

For some reason, harmonica giant Billy Boy Arnold’s best tune, the original single version of “Rockinitis,” is available only in used-CD bins or as a download from the 1993 multi-artist Vee Jay sampler A Taste of the Blues, Volume One. Blues fans deserve better — like a whole Billy Boy compilation from the late ’50s to early ’60s. (”Rockinitis” was issued in 1957 as Vee Jay 260.) What a rockin’ young harp buck this guy was.

Sigh. Of course, Vee Jay made a bunch of dumb mistakes (like dropping that crappy group the Beatles from their lineup before they were famous), so what do you expect?

Mojo’s Cold Shot: Chuck Berry, “Deep Feeling”

Chuck Berry made rock and roll what it is today. This critic would fight — and win — a cage match with any other writer who’d take Elvis as the more significant contributor.

Elvis was a Mount Rushmore figure, for sure, but come on: Berry’s style (oh, and that writing-about-cars-and-girls-thing, which he didn’t invent but made a trademark) launched a million bands and can be heard everywhere from the Beatles to the MC5, from the Dead to the Stones and everyone since.

Ever the ironic bastards, us rock fans gave Berry his first and only #1 hit with “My Ding-A-Ling,” a gawd-awful novelty record. What an embarrassment to the legacy of a player who contributed as much to rock as Monet did to painting.

Which leaves blogs like Popdose to set the record straight, and we’re doing it right here. Not only did Chuck Berry show us how to rock, he was one mean blues slide player, too. Biggest proof of that lies in “Deep Feeling,” here from Rhino’s phenomenal anthology Blues Masters, Vol. 15: Slide Guitar Classics. Subtle, expressive, beautiful. If you can’t dig this — regardless of whether blues turns you on or not — you have no soul. Period.

Musicians who appreciate rock history appreciate Chuck Berry. Stud guitarists Arlen Roth and Sonny Landreth recorded “Deep Feeling” together for Roth’s new record, Toolin’ Around Woodstock with Levon Helm. In the process they lay down their own tribute to Berry and that groove on this YouTube video (we’re not allowed to embed this particular one — apparently Arlen’s worried what kooks like us are gonna do with it — so you’ll have to click and not whine about it, you lazy bum).

Mojo’s Cold Shot: Smokin’ Joe Kubek & Bnois King, “Damn Traffic”

Innovation in the blues milieu can be tough: Old-skool fans like old-skool sounds and themes, and if you change it up too much, they get a little uncomfortable. Like if you pass a Winston off to an old-guard Pall Mall smoker. Just ain’t cool.

Yet if you play the same old stuff and don’t add your own interesting spin to, say, the Muddy Waters style songs, it just sounds tired or worse yet, faker than fake.

Smokin’ Joe Kubek and Bnois King strike the perfect balance: Kubek is a hard-line Stevie Ray-style screaming guitarist. He’s the real deal, not some cardboard-cutout wannabe pretty boy the major labels like to prop up every couple years—and bilk the next generation of record buyers out of their paper route money. His bandmate and singer-guitarist Bnois King, however, brings a smoother jazz side to contrast Kubek’s rough-and-tumble Texas git-ar. Together they make searing blues with sophisticated style.

Best part about them is King’s lyrical commentary on present-day life. You’d never have caught Willa Mae “Big Mama” Thornton singing about road rage (even though she was the driver for her band and legend has it she could get up a good head of steam in the road-rage department) back in simpler times, when it hadn’t been defined as a social phenomenon.

But King does. “Damn Traffic” from Take Your Best Shot is one of my favorite cuts Kubek and King have done in their nearly 20-year run. In its quick blues-verse poetry the song encapsulates the traffic jam — with Kubek’s slashing guitar as a backdrop, the lyrics capture the grind of commuter life. And that’s how they put a current spin on the blues.

The duo have a new album, Blood Brothers, out on Alligator that’s well worth investigating. Here’s a little shot of Kubek and King live from earlier this year, performing “Blues Feeling”: