BUDDY GUY: BLUES SINGER (2003)
1) Hard Time Killing Floor; 2)
Crawlin' Kingsnake; 3) Lucy Mae Blues; 4) Can't See Baby; 5) I Love The Life I
Live; 6) Louise McGhee; 7) Moanin' And Groanin'; 8) Black Cat Blues; 9) Bad
Life Blues; 10) Sally Mae; 11) Anna Lee; 12) Lonesome Home Blues.
Okay, so apparently «Sweet Tea» is the name of
the recording studio in Oxford, Mississippi, where Buddy made that album — and
also its follow-up two years later: an «other-side-of-me» companion piece, all
quiet and acoustic as opposed to Sweet
Tea's ferociously electric thunderstorms. On paper, this sounds like a
promising idea that could work: in fact, it does seem like a much better
proposition to replace the older sequence of «one kick-ass hard-rocking album,
one boring commercial album» with a more basic «one electric, one acoustic»
approach. Reality, however, turns out to be disappointing.
The thing is, Buddy Guy is not a great acoustic
guitar player — much like his late buddy Hendrix, his «native» sphere is the
electric guitar, where he experiments with tones, effects, feedback, and
dissonance. Switching to acoustic, he just plays it: plays the blues, that is,
like any averagely competent blues guitarist does (okay, make it «more than
average», but still, there's literally hundreds of guys who have the same kind
of acoustic technique and versatility as Buddy). Granted, the album is named Blues Singer, not Blues Player; but that hardly resolves the problem, since as a
singer, Mr. Guy is also competent and convincing, yet not exceptional.
And even that
is not the worst problem here. No, the worst is that for this record, Buddy
chooses a varied selection of old classics typically associated with specific
idols of the past — Skip James (ʽHard Time Killing Floorʼ), John Lee Hooker
(ʽCrawling King Snakeʼ), Frankie Lee Sims (ʽLucy Mae Bluesʼ), Muddy Waters (ʽI
Love The Life I Liveʼ), Son House (ʽLouise McGheeʼ), Lightnin' Hopkins (ʽBlack
Cat Bluesʼ), and a few other, somewhat lesser names; and instead of offering
the «Buddy Guy perspective» on all these guys, he pretty much tries to emulate every one of them. Excuse me,
but this is just stupid — as if he were some kind of Shang Tsung-like sorcerer,
having devoured all of their souls and exploiting them one at a time. He'd
committed such errors before, plenty of times, but never, as of yet, had any of
his records sounded like One Huge Error, stretched across fifty minutes' worth
of wasted time.
It almost goes without saying that outside of context — that is, if you are
not familiar with any of the originals — Blues
Singer sounds quite nice. It's not as if Buddy showed no understanding of
these tunes, or wasn't able to get a good grip on the melodies. It's even got a
few enticing bonuses, like both B. B.
King and Clapton offering guest solos on ʽCrawling King Snakeʼ (and it's not
every day that you get to hear B. B. play acoustic guitar, either, though you
can probably understand why upon witnessing his performance here). But why on
Earth should one settle for an imitation
of the real thing rather than the real thing itself? Unless your ears are
completely insensitive for old mono production, crackles and pops, or unless
you have made a vow never to listen to music that is more than 10 years old (in
which case, as of 2016, this album is already obsolete as well), Skip James
still does a better ʽHard Time Killing Floorʼ, because Skip James singing like
Skip James... well, I dunno, sounds a little more authentic, for some reason,
than Buddy Guy singing like Skip James.
The only reason why I do not think the album
deserves a «thumbs down» in the end is that, on the whole, it shows good vibes
and good will. Propagating the old classics is always worthwhile, and properly
crediting the songs to their creators (or, at least, their classic
interpreters) is a sign of honesty. Besides, an album that is competently
performed, well produced, and consists of mostly good songs should not be
called «bad» just because it is so utterly superfluous; and, after all, Buddy
is one of the last surviving «original carriers» of the tradition, so at least
it makes much more sense than if somebody like John Mayer came out with a
record like this. However, it is also a sign that «being an original carrier» never
guarantees top quality; and that being an old black bluesman from Louisiana
does not automatically place you on the same level of spirituality and
sensitivity as any other old black (dead) bluesman from Louisiana.
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