Biting blues from Robert 'Wolfman' Belfour off his first album 'What's Wrong With You' released on Fat Possum Records in 2000. It took 61 years for that record to come out. Plenty of time spent in research and development at the university of life one suspects, busting up with ladies, liasing with the devil and knocking back strong bourbon to get that authentic hollering sound.
Not sure what instigated Slim Harpo's bout of itching, but he doesn't sound all that concerned about it on record. In fact he sounds quite excited at the prospect of the situation being rectified by the long manicured nails of his baby, and rightly so.
After a holiday of sorts, the Danceflawed blog is back in business, opening July's account with a track off one of the best Chicago blues albums of all time. Pretty hard to pick just one off this puppy, the whole thing is complete a schooling in simple, fluid and down-to-earth bluesmanship.
Novelty rhythm 'n blues cut from Slim Gaillard - a jazz performer who was 'accidentally left behind' on the island of Crete by his father at the age of twelve and stumbled into the world of music after training to be a mortician. He also invented his own language called 'Vout'.
There's not a lot left to be said about The Raygun that hasn't already been yelled from the mountaintops by his devoted following. A titan of the blues guitar in his time, this track is off his first and last solo album as a sober man. Having battled with serious alcoholism for the best part of the 80's, he released 'In Step' in 1989 having kicked the sauce. He checked out in spectacular fashion the following year, killed in a helicopter crash in 1990 - a sad but befitting end to a life walking the tightrope. Also check out youtube footage of the man covering 'Little Wing'
The 'Swamp Fox' Tony Joe White lays down some trademark yelps and driving swamp blues guitar on this track from his excellent second album 'Continued...' from 1969.
A rare outing for songwriting genius Townes Van Zandt with full rock backing. The sheer cinematic vividness of his lyrics, coupled with his heart torn delivery never fails to resonate. This one finds Van Zandt in an uncharacteristically bullish mode, with "the blues sown into my jacket sleeve."
Searing blues guitar heat from one of the unsung heroes of the discipline. If you're going to embark on a 'curry challenge' (ask in the comments section for rules and regs) then this is the kind of tunage you need to to help focus and pass the finish line.
Earl Hooker was born in Clarksdale, Mississippi as first cousin to John Lee, but moved to Chicago at the age of one. He spent the lion's share of his productive life playing blitzing, shit-hot guitar as a session man in the studio and on the road. There are scarce few recordings of Earl, but this album (called 'There's A Fungus Amung Us' due to advancing Tuberculosis in the bluesman in the early '70s) represents some of his best sides. The entirely instrumental album features a ragged patchwork of steel slide guitar, rugged rhythm section, stabbing organs, and sax, which serve to knock the edges off an underlying blues framework to create an altogether more funky and amiable monster. The slightly incongruous sleeve artwork by cult cartoonist Robert Crumb adds to the ramshackle charm.
Bafflingly underrated singer Howard Tate released an album of taut, fat-free soul tunes back in the mid-60s that definitely deserve wider recognition. Why he isn't better known is anyone's guess (his barnet alone was surely enough) but you can get an insight into his life by reading an excellent interview with the man here.
More harmonica action for the January slump, this time from Delta born harp-master Charlie Musselwhite. A slow riverboat journey headed South, meandering yet uncomplicated in its route despite the jazzy inflections.
Brothers Fogerty et al. come over all doom and gloom on this murky album ender from Bayou Country (1969). This swamp blues gives a chance for John Fogerty's voice to reach its rasping best, with the tempo lowered from the usual CCR repertoir. You get the sense that this train might barrel on indefinitely, tracks leading into the belly of the earth itself.
T-Bone Walker was one of the most innovative and boundary pushing jump blues guitarists of all time, believed by some biographers to be the first musician ever to perform with an electric guitar. This is a boogie blues off his "The Blues Of T-Bone Walker' compilation, as sampled by Mr Scruff for 'Get A Move On'.
The Yardbirds were responsible for launching the careers of three of the greatest rock guitarists ever in the shape of Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page. This track comes from the December 1965 BBC sessions during Jeff Beck's tenure as resident axe man. The juxtaposition of the suit from the BBC's rod-up-his-arse introduction and that knuckle-whitening fuzz and distortion is an entertaining bonus. Like a local parish priest introducing a chainsaw sculpting competition.
Anyone who has seen the Woodstock film (and if you haven't, why not?) will have the musical gymnastics of Ten Years After firmly lodged in their brain's musical highlights file. Their explosive version of I'm Going Home put them firmly on the white blues revival map and Alvin Lee is to many people right up there with the best guitarists of all time. This is a slow, building blues that lurches like a rabid, slavering hound, with Alvin scowling and baying for attention, needing love so bad because otherwise he might have to COOK and perform other domestic duties that seem so alien its comical.
Big Bill was evidently a sharp dresser and couldn't abide his threads being torn to pieces by horny mamas clamoring to see if his bedroom skills were as nimble as his musical ones. A nice problem to have one might imagine.
Most of what you'd probably like to know about this brilliant delta blues & country singer can be found at the MJH Museum site. It looks like the coolest museum on earth.
In the wake of moderate and stratospheric success with Buffalo Springfield and CSNY respectively, came this brilliant solo album from Stills in 1970. The pink giraffe on the cover might be seen as a surreal nod towards the degeneration that was to come, like some foreboding projection of Stills' coked-up subconscious. Just at that moment though, he remained in control of all his faculties - most notably his guitar playing finesse, which has always been right up there in people's estimations.
