Harmonica greats revisited

Sonny Boy Williamson, Little Walter

By Strings

“Kiddo, I had two books published last year. I’ve had at least two books published every year for the past 20 years. What does it matter if something is old? Charles Dickens said any book you haven’t read is a new book. What does it matter whether it’s old?”—Harlan Ellison in a 1998 interview with The Onion writer John Krewson (Used with permisson of the Onion)

Well, you know me and it’s that time again—time to dredge up some oldies but goodies as they say. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying they just don’t make ‘em like they used to when it comes to music and other things, but, they don’t make ‘em like they used to! Anyway, here’s a few that you might have missed some time back. In that case, they’re new to you, so enjoy them in the spirit of discovery. Or, if you happened to have caught them the first time around, maybe they’ll bring back some pleasant memories…

“Little Walter—His Best, The Chess 50th Anniversary Collection” by Little Walter [MCA Records CHD 9384] and “Down And Out Blues/In Memorium” by Sonny Boy Williamson [MCA Records BGOCD603]. When it comes to blues, I’m a fan of the rawer stuff, particularly some of the Delta variety guitar music such as that of Son House, Skip James, Robert Johnson, Charlie Patton and the nearby Texas brand from folks like Lightnin’ Hopkins. I also like the Chicago, one-step-or-two from Mississippi blues that Willie Dixon, Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and the like produced at places like Chess Records—urbanized, but not to the point where there the country roots of the music had been bled dry by rock ‘n’ roll guitar pyrotechnics for the sake of pyrotechnics. I’m a guitar man at heart, but I’ve got to admit, it’s blues harp that makes me want to bob my head, dip my hip and juke my shoulder up and down. Maybe it brings back memories of Westfield when we’d sit around listening to Clyde Dickey (GRHS!) sing Slim Harpo songs or I’d listen to the one Junior Wells’ 45 that lay mixed in with my collection of James Brown, Wilson Pickett and Aretha Franklin.

I’ve still got some Slim Harpo, Junior Wells too, but it was my man James Redmond who sent me back to spend more time listing to the man who really lit the fire with a harmonica— Little Walter.

Born May 1, 1930 in Marksville, La., Marion “Little Walter” Walter Jacobs broke in to the blues scene in the early 1950s as the “shotgun” for the great Muddy Waters’ band. Legend has it Little Walter left the band to strike out on his own after a bar patron offered Waters, his guitarist Jimmy Rogers and Little Walter a tip to play a hot instrumental featuring the harmonica. Story goes Waters and Rogers were offered a quarter each, while Little Walter, the writer of the song and virtuoso harmonica player driving it, was only offered “one thin dime!” Supposedly, that lack of appreciation shown to him in the shadow of Waters led him to strike out on his own. Who knows? Might have been the best move he ever made, because we are left with a smoking collection of tunes featuring not only Little Walter’s sizzling harmonica sound but the man’s streetwise, earthy vocals. (Little Walter was perhaps the first blues harpist to close mike his axe and send its overdriven sound through a howling amp, creating the sound that’s favored by blues harpist everywhere today) Of course, the collection includes “Juke,” the instrumental that started it all along with 19 other classics such as “Mean Old World,” “Confessin’ The Blues,” another burning harp-driven tune in “Roller Coaster,” “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright [sic],” the moanin’ “Hate To See You Go” and my personal favorite by the man—“My Babe,” a track obviously arranged my Chess Records’ in-house genius of the blues, Willie Dixon. The track is bluesy as can be, but has a slightly “jazzed up” feel, ala Dixon’s Big Three trio, with brushes on the drums and probably Dixon himself on upright bass. Oh yeah, and there’s that classic boogie guitar lick to help it along.

In addition to demonstrating the kind of blues that will make you want to get up and move (or drink liquor, although I’ve long since giving up the imbibing thing), this collection also provides an interesting look into the thoughts of folks during the day. Some of it’s telling, if not at times embarrassing as on “Boom, Boom Out Goes The Light” which seems to ask the question, “What’s wrong with domestic violence?” Oh well, those were they times, and everything wasn’t exactly the good ol’ days, especially with regard to race and gender issues—but the music here is still great.

Another blues harp giant of bygone days is Sonny Boy Williamson (aka Sonny Boy Williamson II, but that’s another story). Let me take that back and put it this way: THE BLUES HARP GIANT of all time is Sonny Boy Williamson. While Little Walter might have been the instrument’s first “modern star,” Williamson arguably was the foundation of modern blues harp style. An unparalleled master of the instrument, Williamson, born Aleck “Rice” Miller in Tallahatchie County, Miss., in either 1899, 1912 or 1908, set the standard for blues in the last century, his songs being covered by artists including blues artists Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, B.B. King, Junior Wells and John Mayall, jazz artist Mose Allison and rockers Led Zeppelin, Van Morrison, Ten Years After, the Allman Brothers Band, the Who, Aerosmith and the New York Dolls to name just a few. “Down And Out Blues/In Memoriam” combines two earlier released albums (from 1959 and 1965 respectively to collect twodozen of the legendary bluesman’s most beloved sides.

Not enough can be said about Williamson’s skill as a harpist, singer and songwriter. And, it’s a shame so many folks have overlooked what he did for music. Sure, blues fans know, but the man deserves much wider recognition as far as I’m concerned. Of course, I have to admit, my first exposure to him probably was through rock, specifically, Led Zepplin’s second album which includes not only the massive hit “Whole Lotta Love” (which incidentally was “borrowed” from the Muddy Waters recording of Willie Dixon’s “You Need Love”) but a two-part version of “Bring It On Home.” It starts with a nod to the lovely Williamson original version and is transformed into an entertaining hard rock workout thanks to inventive riffing by Zepplin guitarist Jimmy Page. But, back to the original…

Williamson recorded tons throughout his life, by his account, starting in 1929. While some might argue as to whether this set contains his absolute best work (especially those who opt for his earlier works which don’t appear here), it’s all good nevertheless. If nothing else, listeners get an insight into his humorous, entertaining, yet often truth-telling style of writing:

“It took me a long time to find out my mistake/It took me a long time, ong time to find out my mistake (It sure did man!)/But I bet you my bottom dollar/I’m not fattening no more frogs for snakes…”—from “Fattening Frogs for Snakes”

Or check out his take on dealing with a jealous woman:

“When I first met the little girl/I didn’t know what I was doing/Now we all tied up/And my life is ruined/I’m scared of that child/I’m scared of that child/I’m scared of that child/I’m too young to die!”—from “Too Young To Die”

And, how about this:

“You know I called you yesterday, a quarter after nine/I called you yesterday, a quarter after nine/But the landlady told me/’Sonny Boy, that woman gonna cause you/To lose your mind…”—from “The Key (To Your Door)

Of course, this collection includes the well-known “Bring It On Home,” courtesy of the second album on this single- CD collection. Here the set is titled “In Memoriam,” which originally was part of Chess Records’ (via MCA) “Real Folk Blues” series. I owned this record, a Muddy and a Howlin’ Wolk collection under that title. There’s also one of my all time favorites by the man, “Wake Up Baby,” with some hilarious lyrics.

Williamson’s harmonic sound is pure, sans the overdriven amplified sound popularized by his musical descendant Little Walter. I like both sounds, but there is some especially nice about hearing an acoustic instrument’s pure tone as with most of Williamson’s work here.

While this is by no means a comprehensive collection of the late, great Sonny Boy Williamson’s work—nor is it representative of the broad history of his recorded output and stylistic development, it’s certainly great stuff—and fun to listen to while driving around town on a late summer day. I know. Trust me.

This is part of the September 23, 2009 online edition of Frost Illustrated.

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