BO DIDDLEY: THE LONDON BO DIDDLEY SESSIONS (1973)
1) Don't Want No Lyin' Woman;
2) Bo Diddley; 3) Going Down; 4) Make A Hit Record; 5) Bo-Jam; 6)
Husband-In-Law; 7) Do The Robot; 8) Sneakers On A Rooster; 9) Get Out Of My
Life.
And the story goes on: no sooner does Bo find
himself a comfortable, modern-sounding, tradition-respecting groove to slip
in, than his record label, anxious to make just a few cents more on the name,
steers him into a «fashionable» direction. This time, «fashion» involves
teeming up with a bunch of British blues-rock players, following in the sagging
footsteps of Howlin' Wolf (who had the misfortune to actually make his record a stable seller, ensuring
trouble for all of his colleagues), Muddy Waters, Chuck Berry, and (from a
different label) B. B. King. The logic remains the same — with UK
blues-rockers conquering the original turf of old Chicago bluesmen, both
critically and commercially, old Chicago bluesmen are now in need of the big
names in the business to sell their
records. And, of course, the big names in the business could get all snub-nosed and haughty — but why should they? These
are their idols, after all, and no Eric Clapton or Rory Gallagher could ever
get arrogant enough to claim that they have already advanced to the point where
no B. B. King or Muddy could catch up with them. Be it the truth or not.
Problem is, once they finally decided to repeat
the trick with Bo Diddley, all the good guys had already been taken, or,
perhaps, had decided that they'd already paid their dues in full. In fact, it
turns out that much, if not most, of the recordings here were really made in
Chicago, and only a few of the songs really stem from London studios — just
enough to barely justify the name of the album. Most of the players are
little-known American session men; the only UK credit that I feebly recognize
is guitar player Ray Fenwick, famous for the immortal nugget ʽCrawdaddy Simoneʼ
recorded during his brief stay with the Syndicats, but it is not clear which of
the tracks feature his playing, and, in any case, there is nothing here that
would even remotely approach the primordial wildness of ʽCrawdaddy Simoneʼ.
Basically, this is just another set of rather
restrained, unexceptional blues-rock and funk-rock, nowhere near the level of
excitement and unpredictability of either Black
Gladiator or Where It All Began.
To see that point, try playing ʽBad Tripʼ and ʽDo The Robotʼ back-to-back: the
former is an evil monster of acid funk, the latter — merely a professional
workout, with plenty of people in the studio but not a single one daring to
take any chances: six minutes go by in vain expectation that something will finally break out of
this, but what exactly can break out when everybody just keeps politely saying «after
you, Mr. Second Guitarist!» or «no, no, Mr. Organist, I insist!...» or «don't
mind me, ladies and gentlemen of the rhythm section, I'm just sitting in the
corner here, adding some high-pitched funky salt licks to this nice soup you
got cooking».
Many of the songs are spoiled off the bat with
a «de-luxe» big brass section — such as the boogie-blues of ʽDon't Want No
Lyin' Womanʼ, where the only thing of note is Connie Redmond's powerhouse
vocalizing; Bo, on the other hand, cannot truly break through the wall of
guitars, organs, and brass that not only cancel out each other's
effectiveness, but also cancel out the validity of the leading artist. The same
disappointment concerns some of the funkier numbers as well, e.g.
ʽHusband-In-Lawʼ and ʽGoing Downʼ.
Overall, like most of the London Sessions series, the chemistry here is quite weak, and the
record very rarely rises above «listenable». The re-recording of ʽBo Diddleyʼ
with new lyrics is smooth and mildly catchy (mainly due to the amusing
invention of the "oooooh... ouch!" harmony trick); ʽMake A Hit
Recordʼ, with Bo trying out the «stuttering» technique of delivery, is funny for
the first minute (and utterly annoying for the remaining four); and only the
album closer ʽGet Out Of My Lifeʼ is in any way reminiscent of the scary bite
of Bo at his funky best — all of a sudden, it's like both the rhythm and lead
guitars have received clearance for extra aggression, and, for all of our
patience, we are rewarded with ass-kicking crunch. Maybe it was an outtake from
the previous year — I have no idea, but I wouldn't be surprised.
By that time, however, The London Sessions have already lost whatever credibility the
title could offer — the album as a whole can only serve as further evidence of
the ineptness of the old labels to take the fates of their old artists into
their own hands. Hence, worth a listen or two, but nothing helps to rescue The London Sessions from the good old thumbs down,
unless you just love the «old school» so much that you have no desire to
distinguish between the exceptional and the run-of-the-mill sorts of material.
Check "The London Bo Diddley Sessions" (MP3) on Amazon
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