jankp's Full Review: Blues to the Bone by Etta James
NOTE Dr. Freudine is my fictional psychiatrist/alter ego who helps me review mostly books and movies. 29th_Candidate is now called Irish because user names of this site wont be included. For past reviews please see my profile.
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As I turn into Irishs narrow driveway, I immediately sense something is wrong, even though everything seems to be in place. Maybe its just because of the strangeness of the entire day, though, thats keeping me off center, and so I try the side door to find it locked. Well, maybe hes not expecting me this late, no big deal. I take out my key, unlock it and am closing it when a jouncy dance tune with a driving beat starts up.
Ive got my mojo working..., but it just wont work on you. I love you so much I dont know what to do...
A mannish voice Ive never heard before. Is it a man or woman? A black, obviously, and a blues artist. I dont think Ive listened to many female blues singers, except in movies, and often enjoy B.B. King, Ray Charles, Albert Collins, Stevie Ray Vaughan and so on.
Irish? Whos that singing? I demand of the house, striding in and tossing my bag. A plaintive meow answers me as Bengal scurries out of his masters open bedroom to greet me. Now Im getting concerned. I duck into the kitchen and almost miss the letter on the table. The depressing lyrics to that song now crush me with the weight of them and I stagger to the table, stunned by the horror of what Im sure awaits me. The song, that wiry, deep voice, twists into my heart and I collapse into a chair as it ends.
Dont start me talking. Ill tell everything I know...
This next song seems to be about gossiping. Women being abused by men, lying about it. Guitar and harmonica burning up and down the scale. The singer seems to be tired of the whole scene and wants to put a stop to it. I barely glance at the letter, just to see that its addressed to me, and drop my head wearily into my arms crossed on the table.
Hush hush baby, dont believe a word...
Now I know this singer has gotten fed up with talk, with her mans excuses (a female singer then!). The harmonica squeals so, it reminds me of something in pain, raspy, crying, maybe like iron being twisted under fire. The guitar is more chatty, though. ...yakkety yak all the time. If you dont stop yakking, youre going to drive me right outta my mind.
Gotta a little red rooster, too lazy to crow for days, keeps everything in the barnyard, upset in every way if you see my little red rooster, please drive him on home...
I cant help but smile at these provocative lyrics. This gutsy gal tells it like it is and has fun doing it. The harmonica plays along lustily with the guitar strumming very nicely to highlight her howling voice. I find myself tapping my toes and ignoring the letter; then the next song happens.
You told me, baby, once upon a time if Id be yours youd be mine. Thats all right. I know you love another gal, but thats all right you gone and left me here without a man...sometimes I wonder whos loving you tonight...
Oh my gosh, does this mean that Irish loves another? And this singer knows and just accepts her mans cheating? I couldnt do that! What a downer of a song. Theres nothing remarkable about it besides the shockingly wimpy lyrics with little energy from the guitar or harp coming forth. I wait the next selection with some dread.
Hes a crawlin king snake and he sure nuf sure nuf rules his den...
This one is a growly, seductively rhythmic song about a jerk who uses women only and knows how to rule his den. Now the singer is complaining? Maybe its from a later perspective that enables her to see him more clearly.
...gonna write a letter, phone every man I know, something about dusting my broom...I believe my time aint long, gonna leave my baby and break up my happy home...
I catch my breath, tears springing to my eyes. Maybe its already happened, his breaking up our happy home, dusting his broom whatever that means. The harmonica seems to be taunting me, helping my tears to fall. I like the sound of it, warbling along, but please wont you shut up?
The sky is crying, look at the tears roll down the street gotta bad, bad feeling my baby dont want me no more...
This is not what I wanted to hear! I then recognize this one as one also covered so brilliantly by Stevie Ray Vaughan (with a wailing guitar) and now wonder if all these songs are remakes. Getting up from my chair I head for the stereo in the other room to discover the answer. I spy an open disc cover and grab it. The singer, Etta James, looks older and rather classy on the cover of her Blues To The Bone album. On the inside, unfolding the liner notes, I find not the lyrics, but a letter from Lithofayne Pridgon, a friend, about how the album came about.
Hoo hoo! Smokestack Lightnin shinin just like gold; why dont you hear me cryin...
I try to ignore the wailing and groaning of Etta and read the letter. The gist of it is that this friend showed Etta the liner notes she wrote for the Jimi Hendrix CD, part of Martin Scorseses seven-part, PBS documentary The Blues. Hmm. Interesting guy. He also filmed the last electrifying concert of The Band with their many guests, but The Last Waltz was more rock and roll except for the Muddy Waters one, I think. Maybe some others were bluesy rock.
You shook me, baby, all night long...you moved me, sweetheart, like an earthquake...
So Etta, a Los Angeles, California native was quite impressed, and regretted not having been able to participate in the Scorsese effort because of illness. She was eager to pay tribute to the Blues in her own way and I notice that the song shes grooving to now is much more appreciative of her man, but still it depresses me to be reminded of what Im missing. Anyway, her way is to update some choice songs sung first by the music generation who helped pave the way for todays soul singers like herself.
My baby dont have to worry, dont have to rob and steal; Ill pay for everything, I am his driving wheel...
In control here, Etta, hmm? Oh, then these songs, I see, were written and sung first by men. Etta gave them her own treatment to show the womans perspective. Not many women could sound as tough, saucy, hot and audacious as she does to pull off her tribute to...
Preston Foster (Got My Mojo Working)
Sonny Boy Williamson (Dont Start Me Talking)
Jimmy Reed (Hush Hush)
Willie Dixon (Lil Red Rooster)
Jimmy Rogers (Thats Alright)
Bernard Besman John Lee Hooker (Crawlin King Snake)
Robert Johnson (Dust My Broom)
Elmore James Clarence Lewis Morgan Robinson (The Sky Is Crying)
Chester Howlin Wolf Burnett (Smokestack Lightnin)
Willie Dixon J. B. Lempir (You Shook Me)
Roosevelt Sykes (Driving Wheel)
Sam Lightnin Hopkins (Honey, Dont Tear My Clothes)
...you can push and pull me all night long; baby, dont you tear my clothes...
The album closes with a lighter, breathier-voiced song with more provocative lyrics, saying that, in essence, she finally has her mojo working and gets her man. What this says to me, as well as the heartbreaking or reflective ones, is that Blues To The Bones goes deep to the heart, reveals the struggles of life and where we have come from. It makes us all survivors and winners, no longer victims or losers. Etta James, a Rhythm and Blues singer who began singing in the fifties and took on heartache and drug addiction, has here taken on blues songs that once belonged to legendary men and has powerfully, compellingly, made them a tribute, both to the men and herself.
As the song ends, I note the picture on the other side of the liner notes, showing her back-up band with sons Sametto and Donto (recording engineers as well as bass and drums), Josh Sklair on guitar and John Juke Logan on harmonica. Brian Ray on guitar teams up with Etta, though, and Bobby Murray on guitar helps out on two songs, plus a couple guys on vocals. Great job, everybody! Its a smokin album. Id have liked it even more if I hadnt thought Irish was...
The letter. I look towards the kitchen and take a big breath. I dont know what to expect: good-bye and good luck or I miss you. Well, if Etta James can be a survivor, so can I. Rising I make my way to the letter as calmly as possible.
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