Muddy Waters, Still a Fool. His Best: 1947-1955. Chess, 99370, 1997.
This is the first electric selection, and its electricity packs some pop. Muddy Waters is, appropriately, famous for powerfully delivering vocals, and this song is no exception. Here, his voice and its power—the power of black voice generally pushing against the walls of expectation—propel the music forward over an unchanging, dramatically visceral guitar riff. There are no 12 bars here, no predictable pattern of I, IV, and V chords, no AAB repetition in the lyrics; there is just the powerful bluesiness of an artist molding his art to the requirements of its meaning. The shouts heard in the background, meanwhile, prove further that blues music is more than anything live music: built not on one tradition or audience but on the demands of the evening, met only by change and improvisation. The voice of an urban male asserting himself in the second half of the century is the voice of the blues, forcefully declaring itself as something of its own as much as an opposition to victimization.
Otis Spann, Otis in the Dark. Otis Spann Is the Blues. Candid, 9001, 1960.
This song was similarly chosen for its incredible use of improvisation, this time at an instrument not quite as associated with the roots music myth: the piano. Otis Spann played piano for Muddy Waters, and his music is worthy of close listening for this reason alone. But more than that, what he did for piano is just what blues musicians have always done for the blues: change its identity, its social purpose, its makeup and meaning, and its role in the musical life. The creative experimentation evident here is actually no more than the simple fact of instrumental prowess; Otis Spann demonstrates time and again that virtuosity is not the privilege merely of later, learned users of roots music. Rather, virtuosity is part of the blues itself, part of the framework of change and improvisation which can mount an attack both on the static music of the past and on the myth of simple black artistry.
Bobby “Blue” Bland, Stormy Monday Blues (Single Version). Greatest Hits Volume 1. MCA, 11783, 1998.
Bobby “Blue” Bland as an artist is characteristic of this playlist identity firstly because his music was dramatically popular and profitable, especially with the black juke joint audience. While some might argue that his was more “popular music” than “blues music”—he did not write his own songs and he did not even play an instrument—this is just the impression that fails in light of the facts of history. How can blues revisionists argue that the blues music that was most popular among the black people who made the blues in the first place was not even authentic blues at all? The notion that authenticity comes from songwriters, not singers, fails to honor the songs in and of themselves; the fact that Bobby “Blue” Bland was profitable for an entire decade takes nothing away from his powerful voice and role in the blues life. Listen for that voice here—you will be amazed. He changed the way blues singing thought of itself.
B.B. King, Ain’t Nobody Home. Anthology. Master Classics, 8028, 2004.
This song is characteristic of an identity, and therefore chosen over others, particularly because B.B. King himself is an example of coming from—and yet entirely changing—what was previously thought to be an exact musical and cultural tradition. Specifically, “Ain’t Nobody Home” signals the changing of course from original blues toward another and more artistically personalized sort of blues, inflected with horns, backup singers, church organ, and the sound of soul. B.B. King made the blues (personalized blues) into something soulful and complete, and this song is worthy of listening because of its ability to negate what the blues do spiritually; this song makes you happy. Changing philosophies, changing meaning, changing music generally by way of creative experimentation—yet still remaining “of the genre”—these topics are the subject matter of this playlist.
Slim Harpo, I’m A King Bee. Blues Gold. Hip-O, 571402, 2006.
Slim Harpo is the same man who the Rolling Stones, the Animals, Eric Clapton, and Led Zeppelin ALL said made them want to play music; his is the emerging sound of sexual boogie blues that rocks electrically and rolls all night along. This specific song is part of the playlist for its taking of roots (an easy, repeating 12-bar and three-note hook) and adjusting ever so slightly and creatively for dramatic new expression. The blues, before this song, had never been so overtly “badass”—no other word fits—choosing instead to stay true to the thematic material of sexual longing and unfulfillment. Slim Harpo is most certainly not sexually unfulfilled in this music, and is another example of how, paralleling the new politics of the time, black sound that asserts itself daringly can actually be the most viscerally popular (and profitable).
Little Willie John, “Need Your Love.” The Very Best of Little Willie John. Collectibles, 2822, 2001.
Here is another man working within the blues genre yet pushing that genre, in some sense, away from its original meaning and musicality. What is bluesy about “Need Your Love”? For one thing, its themes, relating mostly to sexual and romantic nostalgia or loss, and for another, its structure, 12 bars over just three chordal changes made chromatically or pentatonically on bass. What is not traditionally bluesy, though, is the rolling piano in the background—listen, and your ears will tingle—along with that other facet of an emerging rhythm-and-blues style, the raspy and elegiac singing voice. This song, therefore, shows the outside influence of new and popular trends on what is still an internalized category of music. Little Willie John molded current taste to both his genre of choice, the blues, and the meaning he meant.
