BO DIDDLEY: THE 20TH ANNIVERSARY OF ROCK'N'ROLL (1976)
1) Ride The Water (part 1); 2)
Not Fade Away; 3) Kill My Body; 4) Drag On; 5) Ride The Water (part 2); 6) I'm
A Man; 7) Hey! Bo Diddley; 8) Who Do You Love; 9) Bo Diddley's A Gunslinger;
10) I'm A Man.
A very strange record. Apparently, upon leaving
Chess, Bo Diddley went into complete commercial retirement, as far as any
toying with major labels was concerned. Yet, in 1976, he was still «invited» by
a guy called Ron Terry to guest-star on a special RCA release — according to
the title, supposed to celebrate «the 20th anniversary of rock'n'roll», but
even if, out of general niceness, we decide to agree that rock'n'roll was indeed
invented in 1956 and not one year earlier (or later), it is still not clear why
(a) of all the early rock'n'rollers, the 20th anniversary of rock'n'roll should
be primarily and exclusively associated with Bo Diddley; (b) why, instead of
letting Bo Diddley himself mastermind the project, they made him sing a bunch
of Ron Terry songs on Side A — and then let a bunch of other guys cover his material on Side B.
Never mind, we should probably blame it on the
overall craziness of the mid-1970s — any time period that produces the likes of
Lisztomania is bound to contain ten
times as many «odd» projects as it contains «insane» ones. This is one of the curious
oddities, and it is not even particularly bad: it is merely inadequate to its
purpose, and it is the first album in Bo Diddley's discography which really,
genuinely loses Bo Diddley as a bit
player among the general ambience.
Speaking of ambience, you would be pressed real
hard to find a better application for the «too many cooks» line than this
album. The roster includes, among others, such names as Leslie West, Elvin
Bishop, Joe Cocker, Roger McGuinn, Keith Moon, Albert Lee, and even Billy Joel
(!). But instead of bringing them out, one by one, and making this into some
sort of studio-based Last Waltz
celebration, Ron Terry goes for broke and crams them all together — at least, that
is how it is on the 16-minute jam that occupies all of Side B (supposedly, they
are not all there at the same time on Side A).
The results are predictable: the jam is
extravagantly overproduced, so much so that it is impossible to latch on to
anything in particular. There seems to be a lot of enthusiasm and energy, but
you can never really tell if it is really like that or if it is just because
there are so many players and singers out there at the same time. And in the
end, it's all just the same old Bo Diddley stuff — maybe Albert Lee's guitar
makes it flow more smoothly and with many more flourishes than the original
versions, but the question is whether these versions need this smooth flow. As far as I understand it, turning Bo
Diddley songs into «academic-style blues-rock», even with superb players at
the helm, kinda drop-kicks the initial purpose of these songs.
As for Ron Terry's songs on the first side,
they are odd, too. He must have written them with Bo in mind, and particularly,
with Bo's predilection for the sexy funky sounds of the decade. But these here
are not so much straightahead funk grooves as creepily suggestive «swamp blues»
with a funky undercurrent. ʽRide The Waterʼ, opening and closing Side A, would
probably be better suited for the likes of a Screamin' Jay Hawkins, who could
have, perhaps, given an appropriately spooky, joker-ish performance against
these slow tempos, repetitive wah-wah chords, and minimalistic bass punches.
Mr. Bo Diddley just ain't evil enough for the swamp — let alone for an attempt
to take Buddy Holly's lightweight, amicable ʽNot Fade Awayʼ and infect it with
the devilish swamp blues virus as well.
There is no reason to hunt for this curio,
unless obsession has already gotten the better of you — but if you do come
across it, a spin or two won't hurt. The «Bo Diddley jam» might actually work
if you play it real loud without stopping, all the way through — who knows, at
some point all the innumerable instruments and voices might eventually fall
together, blow a hole in your soul and make you see the light. And the first
side, well... this is the last time you get to hear a still relatively young
Bo Diddley sing some original material — the next twenty years would be spent
in occasional touring, serious relaxation, and some home studio recording
sessions, but no official releases. So that might be reason enough to regard
this disc as a little «farewell gift from the boys», and get acquainted with it
as a little piece of history.
Basically a Bicentennial cash-in, with a little bit of "Happy Days" nostalgia to boot. Bo probably had no other deals to consider after Chess went belly up, so it's basically just a time killer for him. I seriously doubt he had anything to do with this concept. As for Screamin' Jay Hawkins, he was on the outs himself for a long time, but made a respectable comeback in the late 80's, during the time when "Twin Peaks" and Chris Isaak made swampy retro R&B briefly fashionable again.
ReplyDeleteAlso, my guess is they must be counting the "20th Anniversary of Rock & Roll" from the time of Elvis' first LP release. This was RCA, after all.
ReplyDeleteIt would have been at least the "30th Anniversary of Rock & Roll" the way I define it.
ReplyDelete30 years would mean 1946, the golden era of Bebop, Western Swing, and jump blues, at a time when Bill Haley was still cutting country sides, and long before Little Richard or Chuck Berry had record deals.
DeleteWhy start at 1946, I've heard classical pieces with vaguely boogie-like rhythms. (Roll Over Beethoven indeed)
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