CANNED HEAT: HALLELUJAH (1969)
1) Same All Over; 2) Change My
Ways; 3) Canned Heat; 4) Sic 'Em Pigs; 5) I'm Her Man; 6) Time Was; 7) Do Not
Enter; 8) Big Fat; 9) Huautla; 10) Get Off My Back; 11) Down In The Gutter, But
Free.
Not necessarily what we're looking for. The
last studio album by the original classic Canned Heat, released just prior to
Henry Vestine leaving the band and being replaced by Harvey Mandel, suddenly
sees them stepping away from the world of lengthy improvised boogie sagas and
again restricting themselves to relatively short, concise, and surprisingly
mild blues-rock numbers. For whatever reason, not only are there no more
20-minute tributes to John Lee Hooker (in fact, there ain't even a single track
here reprising the bass line of ʽBoogie Chillen!ʼ), but there are no more
attempts at crazyass experimentation like ʽParthenogenesisʼ, either. Perhaps
they thought they were really no good at such experimentation, or perhaps they
viewed it as a phase that naturally came and went for good, but the fact
remains that Hallelujah is
straightahead blues-rock, a bit heavier and wilder than their disappointing
self-titled debut, but, in my personal opinion, a serious letdown after the
relative wildness of the previous two records.
Nor does it have even one short song with
magical qualities, be it the bubbling menace of ʽOn The Road Againʼ or the
pastoral bliss of ʽGoing Up The Countryʼ. «Blind Owl» Wilson, in particular,
is a big disappointment: all four of his pseudo-originals are merely passable
this time, no matter how nice or weird his childlike falsetto still sounds.
ʽChange My Waysʼ is just a fast-paced 12-bar blues with no haunting sonic
combinations (there's an interesting echoey flute solo in the middle, but it's
so short you barely notice it anyway); the country blues ʽTime Wasʼ tries to
use a solo bass break gimmick between verses to give you the impression that it
is at least slightly above generic
level, but the best thing about the song is still a bit of fiery soloing from
Vestine; and ʽGet Off My Backʼ is a decent back-and-forth alternation of simple
boogie with psychoblues soloing in the vein of Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page, but,
again, nothing to speak of in terms of songwriting. It's almost as if the guy
hit total writer's block; pretty sad considering how little time he had left on
this planet.
Fortunately, the band still has a few funny
gimmicks in store to keep the listener's interest at some level. ʽSic 'Em Pigsʼ, for instance, is a hilarious
reinvention of Bukka White's ʽSic 'Em Dogsʼ in the form of probably the most
vicious (downright mean, in fact) anti-cop musical statement of the year —
culminating in a mock-advertisement voiceover ("if you're big, strong, and
stupid, we want you... remedial courses are available for the culturally
deprived") that might have earned them some broken ribs, were police
officers a little better informed of the very existence of this band.
Elsewhere, they finally get to the stage of covering the Tommy Johnson tune
that gave the band its name (ʽCanned Heatʼ), even though the ancient original,
all crackles and pops included, would still be preferable to this decent, but
rather lazy-sounding electric revival. Bob Hite's ʽI'm Her Manʼ has what might
be Wilson's finest, wildest, tightest harmonica solo in the opening and closing
bars (everything else about the song is completely forgettable, though). And on
the last number, another super-slow blues-de-luxe called ʽDown In The Gutter,
But Freeʼ, they conduct an «experiment in freedom» by switching around and
getting Vestine to play the bass (not a very generous decision) and Taylor to
play the lead guitar (surprisingly Vestine-like!).
So it's not a total waste — in fact, as long as
you are able to just lay back and enjoy some unpretentious blues-rock, it's
hardly a waste at all — but for an album released in 1969, and following up on
a clear artistic progression over three LPs in a row, Hallelujah is clearly a disappointment on both counts. It did not
hurt the band's reputation: they were still invited to Woodstock, where they
got to play ʽGoing Up The Countryʼ and strut their stuff and all, but it did
make clear that, unless some things were to drastically change, the name Canned
Heat would pretty soon be wiped off the roster to make way for artists more
daring and less formulaic. Well, actually, some things did change pretty soon, and quite drastically, too... but not
necessarily in a way that could be beneficial to the band's fame, fortune, and
even physical health. To put it mildly.
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