CHARLES “WIGG” WALKER
This Love Is Gonna Last
No label – No #
Vocalist Charles “Wigg” Walker is a soul music veteran who first recorded in 1959 on the Nashville-based Champion label. Other credits include a stint at Chess, where he was the lead singer with the J.C. Davis band (billed as Lil’ Charles Walker); at least one of his sides with Davis, 1963’s churchy rocker Sweet Sweet Love, is a highly sought collectors’ item today. He also contributed some antic, half-sung vocal effects (think James Brown reincarnated as a chitlin’ circuit MC/comedian) to Davis’ The Chicken Scratch, released the previous year. A year or two later, he broke out on his own as the leader of Little Charles and the Sidewinders, becoming a mainstay on the New York club circuit; the Sidewinders also recorded a few albums on Decca, among other labels. Walker spent most of the 1980s in Europe; more recently, having returned to his native Nashville, he led a group known as the Dynamites, releasing several albums and singles/Eps, and touring extensively.
This disc features Walker accompanied by his current band—keyboardist Charles Treadway, guitarist Pat Bergeson, and drummer Pete Abbott—augmented by a crew of at least 13 more instrumentalists and vocalists to provide a sound that’s significantly roomier and more pop-flavored than the tightly wound show-lounge workouts he specialized in with Davis. Nonetheless, the sound is unabashedly retro with its lush string swashes, understated horn punctuations, burbling keyboards, and soul jazz guitar chording, all driven by a gently percolating funk impetus. It’s Walker’s vocals that bring true life to the proceedings—that old neo-James Brown grit is still there, as is his gift for both propelling and riding in the pocket of a groove, but his timbre is enriched by textural and timbral subtleties that the Godfather could never have approximated, and he sounds as capable of submitting to the throes of vulnerability and heartbreak (If I Had Known, It’s About Trust) as he is ready to proclaim his prowess as a lover (I Like ’Em Like That) or promise fidelity to a paramour who’s stayed with him through times both good and bad ([Feels Like] Things Are Comin’ Our Way).
A project like this is both encouraging and risky in the contemporary marketplace. Many Living Blues readers will find this music savory; open-eared blues festival attendees will likewise be drawn in. But whether soul music aficionados will be moved to add this disc to their collection of vinyl and CDs by such beloved figures as the Chi-Lites, the O’Jays, the Commodores, Marvin Gaye, and Roberta Flack is a different story. And whether a set like this can appeal to younger-generation music lovers whose tastes have been forged primarily through social media and streaming sites is even more problematic. The sound purveyed by Walker and his compatriots is resolutely of its time—a time from decades past that, for many of us, still represents some of the finest that post-1960s soul music and R&B can offer, but which is nonetheless a fond memory (or, increasingly, a distant fiction) for mainstream music lovers. It is far from today’s techno-driven R&B mainstream, and it invokes an emotional vulnerability that most modern-day R&B/pop music, even in its love songs, tends to either avoid or sheath in ironic detachment. It is also not the faux-juke joint, gutbucket fare favored by blues bands that continue to base their sound on updatings of themes codified decades ago in Chicago or Memphis, nor is it the old-school/new-school blues/soul/R&B mash-up that characterizes most of what we usually call southern soul or soul blues. All of which raises the question yet again: is the music we love destined never again to be the “music of the people” that we’ve always prided ourselves on believing it truly is?
—David Whiteis
LITTLE FREDDIE KING
I Use to Be Down
Made Wright Records – MWR80
There’s a line from the title track on Little Freddie King’s latest release, I Use to Be Down, that pretty much sums up the life of the New Orleans blues treasure. “I used to be down / but I ain’t down no more,” King testifies over the snarling, four-on-the-floor jumper. While King’s (a.k.a. Fread E. Martin) life has certainly had its share of troughs, the 84-year-old guitarist/singer is currently riding a late career resurgence that’s not only helping his bottom line, but also introducing newer blues fans to the real deal, from-the-gut kind of blues that old heads revel in.
Recorded in the Cresent City’s Esplanade Studios, King scratches and claws his way through 11 original songs packed with lyrics that vividly tell the tale of a man who’s been there, done that, and has the literal scars to prove it. After all, his backstory includes surviving three shootings, a near fatal bike accident, and an accidental electrocution sandwiched around a stint playing bass and guitar in Texas guitar wizard Freddie King’s band in the 1960s.
With the backing of producer/drummer “Wacko” Wade Wright, Stephen Daly (guitars), Paul Defiglia and Robert Snow (bass), Robert Louis DiTullio Jr. (harp), and Elan Mehier (piano), King deploys his signature red Gibson and road-worn pipes to deliver a side of unfiltered blues that blends his South Mississippi roots with Hill Country blues and a helping of swamp boogie. King’s brutally honest lyrics never stray far from his life lived on the other side of the tracks, but they stop short of glorifying or embellishing the sometime tawdry experiences. He moans, “Gonna get up early in the morning / dig me a hole way down in the ground” on the sparse, guitar-only slow burn Bad News. Bus Station Blues finds a despondent King singing, “When that bus roll in / my baby wasn’t on that bus.”
King saves some of his angriest emotions for the defiant Mean Little Woman: “When I come home / woman won’t let me sit down and eat in peace.” His voice drips with exasperation over trying in vain to fix a shattered relationship on the hard driving Can’t Do Nothing Babe: “Me and my baby can’t get along / always down there by the liquor store.”
But it’s not all from the school of hard knocks. The excellent instrumental Bywater Crawl, with its distorted riffs and chunky chords, channels North Mississippi blues, and the sinewy guitar and King’s weathered, but nuanced, vocals give Going Up the Mountain a hopeful feel. On Pocket Full of Money, accompanied only by Daly’s soulful slide guitar and tambourine, King deliver’s some not-so-subtle double entendre: “Got a pocket full of money / if you let me come inside, you can get it all.” Featuring only an acoustic guitar and praise lyrics, Coming Home to Jesus sounds like it came straight from the pulpit.
King continues to bring the true-blue goods on I Use to Be Down, an album that goes down as smooth as a glass of good bourbon.
—Rod Evans
SOUTHERN AVENUE
Family
Alligator Records – ALCD 5024
It’s a real family affair for Southern Avenue on its fourth LP, Family. Singer Tierinii Jackson, her guitarist husband Ori Naftaly, and her sisters, drummer/vocalist Tikyra “T.K.” Jackson and multi-instrumentalist Ava Jackson, present 14 songs pulsating with the close-knit chemistry that can only come from familial bonds.
Southern Avenue operates at the exuberant nexus point of Delta blues, the Staple Singers, and Sly and the Family Stone. Opening track Long Is the Road is highlighted by gorgeous harmony vocals by the Jackson sisters and punctuated by an equally remarkable guitar solo by Naftaly. Upside is the type of jaunty positivity anthem we need during these troubled times—a throwback to early ’70s Stax Records cuts—as Tierinii sings and her sisters join in, “Every day’s a new day, find me on the upside.”
The familial joy and chemistry that play out in the performances is at the core of much of the lyrics. On Found a Friend in You, the sisters sing of being “saved by love,” exclaiming, “as long as we’re together can’t nobody touch us.” That theme carries over into a pair of other tracks, Family and Sisters. The former is a very brief exultation celebrating the ties that bond that leads into the gritty, grooving blues rock of Late Night Get Down. Sisters and its message of “together we’ll take the world” plays like Southern Avenue’s raison d’être, and the lowkey arrangement of the track allows their powerful voices to deliver that mission statement.
Family concludes with We Are. It’s a funky testament to togetherness, with Southern Avenue being accompanied by some deft keyboard work by Jeremy Powell and Blake Rhea’s rock-solid bass playing. The tight arrangement and moving group vocals make for an engaging, powerful concluding track.
From start to finish, Family and its joyful expressions are fantastic and should be in regular rotation in your spring and summer listening.
—Jim Shahen Jr.
JOHNNY RAWLS
Make Them Dance
Catfood Records – CFR-034
Make Them Dance finds singer/guitarist Johnny Rawls smack dab in the middle of a Malaco-like groove, seamlessly straddling blues and soul in the style of late-career Johnnie Taylor or Z.Z. Hill. The tight horn charts, the backing chorus, the utterly confident vocal delivery—this is old-school entertainment.
In terms of the lyrical content, this is music for adults. Now in his eighth decade, Rawls’ songs are of mature relationships, folks of a certain age still navigating the eddies of romance, of long-ago exes still in touch. Dreams of You (co-written with bassist Bob Trenchard) is a nice encapsulation of Rawls’ approach to storytelling: “I was wrong to accuse you, Baby / But I needed someone to blame / I was always searching / For those dreams to come true / It should have been enough / For me to just have you.”
His vocal range is a high baritone, and the years have feathered the edges of his voice a bit—but that roughness only lends more authenticity to his tales of lost love, regret, and regained hope.
The Malaco comparison above obviously infers some southern soul influences, and while Rawls’ longtime home base of Milwaukee is closer to Detroit than Memphis, his Mississippi upbringing shines through here both in his vocal phrasing and in the horn arrangements.
Organist Dan Ferguson contributes a soulful solo on Swimming with the Sharks, and a gospel-infused improvisation on Dreams of You. And lead guitarist Will McFarlane not only contributes to the solid foundation behind Rawls throughout (check out those perfectly timed fills on Move in My Direction), but his restrained, tasteful solo on Say You Love Me perfectly complements Rawls’ vocals.
An interesting twist are the tenor sax solos by Andy Roman, which sound like the obligatory sax solos on Top 40 hits from the mid-1970s through early ’80s. The solo on the title track is of a type heard on period hits by British rockers Al Stewart and Gerry Rafferty or art rockers Steely Dan: a riff on the theme, punctuated by a series of trills. And yet, given the throwback vibe of the album, the solos lend a certain patina to So Cold, Move in My Direction, and Make Them Dance.
Rawls wrote or co-wrote six of the ten songs here, with Trenchard having a hand in two of the others. It’s a solid collection of tunes, with a nice variety in tempos and mood, so that the album overall has its own sense of rhythm to it.
With more than two dozen albums released in the 35 years since his debut as leader, Rawls shows no signs of slowing down on this latest outing. His voice is in fine form, the songs are fresh and melodic, and his band is in the pocket.
—Jim Trageser
CHARLIE MUSSELWHITE
Look Out Highway
Forty Below Records – FBR-046
It’s one thing to be recognized and respected, but it’s quite another to be considered a living legend. Renowned harp master, guitarist, and vocalist Charlie Musselwhite has earned that status over the course of his career—courtesy not only of his 15 Grammy Award nominations (including his win in 2014), his 33 Blues Music Awards, 20 Living Blues Awards, and an induction into the Blues Hall of Fame, but also his success in the mainstream market, thanks to collaborations with Cyndi Lauper, Bonnie Raitt, Ben Harper, Tom Waits, and Gov’t Mule.
The new album, Look Out Highway, affirms the fact that Musselwhite excels at accessibility while holding true to basic blues precepts. The most startling thing is that it marks the first time he’s recorded with his longtime touring ensemble, whose ranks include guitarist Matt Stubbs of GA-20; drummer June Core, a veteran of Robert Lockwood Jr.’s backing band; bassist Randy Bermudes; and producer/multi-instrumentalist Kid Andersen, whose credits span any number of all-star endeavors.
While there’s never been any doubt about Musselwhite’s ability to meld a cohesive sound, the fact that his longtime associates are involved ensures that this particular effort remains consistently assertive from start to finish. The staunch delivery shared with the opening one-two punch of Look Out Highway, its follow-up, Sad Eyes, and the album’s closing track, aptly titled Open Road, affirms that Musselwhite’s grit and growl continue to create a formidable combination. Musselwhite never negates the power of basic blues, as further indicated by the deep groove of Storm Warning and the steady shuffle that underscores Baby Won’t You Please Help Me.
At the same time, Musselwhite offers ample opportunity to simply move and groove. Hip Shakin’ Mama provides a playful pastiche via an homage to his favorite nocturnal pastime. The easy sashay of Highway 61, Ramblin’ Is My Game, Open Road, and Ready for Times to Get Better spotlight Musselwhite’s frenzied harp solos along with Stubbs’ tasteful leads. The slow spiral of the instrumental titled Blue Lounge adds further opportunity to appreciate the band’s instrumental acumen.
At age 81, Musselwhite remains a formidable force in the blues idiom, an elder statesman of sorts in a genre that continues to appreciate its elders. Look Out Highway suggests he has many miles left to go.
—Lee Zimmerman
MIKE FARRIS
The Sound of Muscle Shoals
Malaco Music Group / Fame Records – FAME3319
Invoking the name and memory of the Muscle Shoals sound brings with it certain sonic and qualitative expectations. Which is to say that by recording his latest album at the historic Fame Studios under the guiding influence of executive producer Rodney Hall and the creative assistance of the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section and studio regulars, singer-songwriter Mike Farris is posited to either uphold a rich musical legacy or set himself up for failure. Luckily, his first record in seven years, The Sound of Muscle Shoals, falls into the former categorization. Farris and his collaborators put together an 11-track album of impassioned performances that make for a rich listening experience.
Opening number Ease On plays like a southern fried Steve Winwood song or the lushest Black Crowes track set to tape, with Farris singing his ass off over an indelible rock ’n’ soul groove. It’s succeeded by Heavy on the Humble, a beefy country soul track buoyed by Clayton Ivey’s Wurlitzer and some killer harmonies from backing singers Angela Hacker, Cindy Walker, Kevin Clayborn, and LaShanda Evans.
Tom Petty’s Swingin’ is admirably covered. Mostly similar in its aesthetic approach, the rendition is made unique by Farris really maximizing his vocal range. Another winning cover comes in the form of Slow Train. The original is a classic Staple Singers amalgamation of soul, folk, and gospel. Farris maintains the sparse approach of the Staples’ take, allowing his vocals and heartfelt delivery to stand front and center.
The Sound of Muscle Shoals closes on a dynamic one-two punch. Penultimate song Before There Was You and I is in the vein of classic southern soul ballads. Backed by an arrangement that’s dramatic in construct and build, Farris croons, hollers, and screams to his fullest extent of his capabilities. For the first few minutes, Sunset Road is positioned as a considerably more laid-back conclusion. But it builds over its last couple minutes, culminating in a powerful gospel-infused call-and-response of “We will never worry no more.”
Channeling the legacy of a revered institution like Fame Studios and its sound is a risky proposition. But with The Sound of Muscle Shoals Mike Farris has made a record he can be proud of.
—Jim Shahen Jr.
GEORGE PORTER JR. & RUNNIN’ PARDNERS
Porter’s Pocket
Color Red – CRED-638-VLP
George Porter Jr. established himself as one of the world’s foremost and funkiest bass players through his work with the Meters beginning in the late 1960s. He launched the band Runnin’ Pardners in 1990 for his solo ventures, and today he is one of the elders presiding over the contemporary New Orleans funk and R&B scene. His new album, Porter’s Pocket, is an eight-track, all-instrumental, vinyl-only release that’s a throwback to the original Meters records, and like that legendary band, Runnin’ Pardners features four strong individual players all dedicated to working the groove. In addition to the bassist, the current lineup of the band mirrors the Meters and includes keyboardist Michael Lemmler, drummer Terrence Houston, and guitarist Chris Adkins. They gig regularly, and it sounds like a lot of the grooves on Porter’s Pocket were developed while jamming on stage. With Porter and Houston locked in, Lemmler and Adkins step out for concise and compelling solo interludes.
Side A of the LP is totally captivating. The original Meters sound comes to mind immediately on Tito’s Dumpling Machine. It epitomizes what “playing in the pocket” signifies as the organ glides over the polyrhythmic bass, drum, guitar interaction. Protein & Carbohydrates features a swinging, bluesy electric piano and crackling electric guitar solo. Porter’s bass work is never really flashy, but it always commands attention. This is certainly the case on the seductive, laid-back reggae groove of Sauce on the Side, enhanced by an ethereal organ, a scratch guitar rhythm, and an electric sitar-sounding solo. Buttermilk takes things in a swinging, blues-infused soul jazz direction with Lemmler’s organ evoking the likes of Jimmy McGriff or Brother Jack McDuff. Side B kicks off with Don Julio Rides Again, a kind of Horace Silver hard bop style blues with vibrant, engaging guitar and organ solos. Even though many of the original Meters standout recordings clocked in at less than three minutes, the second side’s tracks two and three—See Me? See Me? See Me? and Gangs in Alamosa, both under three minutes long—are not quite as engaging as the other six selections. The grooves are inventive and captivating, but they don’t feature the individual players stretching out that highlights the other performances. The program concludes with Latenighter, a haunting, atmospheric jam that would be right at home in a neo-noir film. At age 77, George Porter Jr. shows that he can still bring the funk with Porter’s Pocket.
—Robert H. Cataliotti
MAC ARNOLD & PLATE FULL O’ BLUES
On a Mission
PFOB Music – No #
Necessity is the mother of invention; Mac Arnold arrived at that realization early in his career. When he was a mere teenager, the Upstate South Carolina native fashioned a guitar out of a gasoline can, a broomstick, and wires. He did so when his father prohibited him from buying a proper instrument. Fast forward nearly 70 years—during which Arnold played with James Brown, Muddy Waters, Otis Spann, and John Lee Hooker—and he’s still doing things his own way. A champion of the indie and DIY aesthetics long before those terms were commonly used, Arnold has self-released albums featuring himself and his long-running band, Plate Full O’ Blues.
Recipient of myriad awards from the Blues Foundation and other institutions, 82-year-old Arnold has scaled back his activities to some degree, performing a bit less often than in previous years. But he’s still managed to turn out a fine new album, On a Mission. Featuring mainstays Austin Brashier and Max Hightower on guitar, the album—Arnold’s first in quite some time—serves up eight new original songs. With the assured musical firepower of his two guitarists plus the rhythm section of bass player Mike Frost and drummer Rick Latham, Arnold sets aside his trusty gas can guitar, focusing solely on vocals. (Well, not solely: he also produced and arranged the album.)
The loping Blues All Over You opens the eight-song set. A well-worn melody is the backdrop for this easygoing tune, a subtly electrified country blues with some sprightly harmonica (courtesy of Hightower) sparring with Arnold’s laid-back vocal. The two guitarists engage in some understated interplay that adds to the song’s texture without getting in the way of Arnold’s singing.
Dance the Blues Away is an up-tempo cousin to Howlin’ Wolf’s Wang Dang Doodle; the guitar work is fleet-fingered, and Arnold sounds like he’s having the time of his life on the tune. The autobiographical I Am the Blues chronicles the Chicago chapter of Arnold’s rich musical history. A romantic melody suits the title of Love Story, a model of subtlety and restrained passion. The band demonstrates its understanding of the fact that the quiet spaces between the notes are every bit as important as the notes themselves.
The title track is another showcase for supremely melodic and appealing lead guitar work; as with the album’s other tracks, Brashier and Hightower eschew distortion in favor of cleanly delivered acoustic-sounding electric guitar runs. Arnold’s self-referential lyric is in line with his personal journey and extensive philanthropic work.
Slider sounds a good bit like the Stray Cats’ Stray Cat Strut, but so too do countless other songs. With a campfire vibe heavy on acoustic guitar chording, harmonica, and percussive brush strokes, the tune doubles down on the overall warm and modest character of On a Mission.
The initial quietude of Swamps of Louisiana gives way to a delightful wordless moan from Mac Arnold. Against the backdrop of a catchy melody, that vocalization serves as the song’s chorus, and listeners may be moved to moan right along with the bluesman. The saucy Won’t Tell the Truth recasts a popular blues trope (by way of Ray Charles) into a fanciful first-person musical tale. It’s a solid way to wrap up an enjoyable and lovingly created album.
—Bill Kopp
SAMANTHA FISH
Paper Doll
Rounder – No #
Samantha Fish is no paper doll. Her blazing guitar work burns up the frets of her guitars with smoking hot lead runs, and her powerful rhythm guitar riffs lay down a pulsing melodic structure that drives the songs. Fish’s towering vocals deliver a gritty blues rock prowess with authority. The nine songs on her new album, Paper Doll, showcase Fish’s command of her instruments.
The album kicks off with the dynamic I’m Done Runnin’, a stirring declaration that the singer is moving forward and nothing’s going to hold her back: “When I look in the mirror, staring at the unknown / The world’s not getting clearer, but I like where I’m goin’.” Fish’s snaking slide guitar slithers around her scalding lead riffs, her vocals soaring defiantly. The fiery rocker Lose You combines funky vocal harmonies with blistering lead runs in a song that confronts a reluctant lover and takes control of the relationship. Sweet Southern Sounds unfolds lushly, like scents dripping from a magnolia, with the song’s organ strains and guitar riffs slowly spiraling in concentric circles into the song’s crescendo of sound; it’s a southern rocker squarely in the tradition of Lynyrd Skynyrd. The swampy, minor chord funk of Fortune Teller evokes a haunting vibe of voodoo and old New Orleans, especially with Fish’s echoing vocals. The album’s title track prowls with commanding rock guitar riffs and vocals that are by turn tender and towering to convey the singer’s liberation from the cloying restrictions of the music world.
Paper Doll leaves no doubt that Fish rules at the top of the blues rock heap; she’s simply one of the best blues rockers playing today.
—Henry L. Carrigan Jr.
WILLIE BUCK & BOB CORRITORE
Oh Yeah!
SWMAF Records – SWMAF 29
Bandleader, harmonica player, and archivist Bob Corritore continues his highly regarded “From the Vaults” series of releases with Oh Yeah!, a collaboration with blues vocalist Willie Buck. Culled primarily from three recording sessions that took place in Tempe, Arizona, between 2021 and 2023, Oh Yeah! features an all-star roster of support players.
But the presence of those big names—co-producer Kid Andersen, Bob Margolin, Anthony Geraci, and others of note—doesn’t take the spotlight away from Willie Buck. The bluesman who earned his fame in Chicago in the 1950s and beyond is front and center on this collection of ten tunes. A live-in-the-studio vibe pervades the proceedings, equal parts loose-limbed and rock-solid.
Five of the ten cuts are Willie Buck originals; scattered throughout the track list, they form the sturdy core of this top-flight album. That Ain’t Enough is a seething, lumbering blues rocker with stinging lead guitar work and wailing harp. On one hand, it’s the kind of song and arrangement that helped light the British blues boom of the ’60s, turning a generation of white kids onto the blues. On the other hand, it drips with authenticity, the sincere work of a man who has spent a life in the blues.
From its title, it’s clear that Brand New Cell Phone is no blues chestnut. In fact, it’s another Buck original. But everything beyond the subject matter is classic blues, serving up a perfect mix of old and new in timeless fashion. Buck sounds assured and right at home fronting the spirited instrumental work.
Went Home This Morning lays down a stomping, distorted rhythm upon which Buck slides effortlessly into blues shouter mode. Everything about the recording suggests that Buck and his sidemen were having the time of their lives cutting the track. She Turned Me Down starts with a familiar structure, sticks to it, and reminds listeners why that form has endured. The band plays looser here, suiting and serving the character of the song.
The upbeat Me and My Baby is a playful and sassy story blues. The album’s lengthiest track, Let Me Find Out Your Name slows the tempo way down, giving the players ample opportunity to stretch out. The song’s production values—cavernous echo, spare effects—remind younger listeners where groups like Led Zeppelin and Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac got some of their best ideas. A master of the blues, Willie Buck is the real deal.
Guitarist Billy Flynn penned Money Can’t Buy Everything; the tune feels custom written for Buck’s formidable set of skills. The album’s other tracks—a reading of Bo Diddley’s Oh Yeah, Muddy Waters’ She’s Alright and Baby Please Don’t Go—are excellent as well, but their inclusion serves mainly to highlight the depth of Willie Buck’s own songwriting artistry: a listener new to the songs might not be able to discern which are Buck originals and which are blues classics.
—Bill Kopp
