CANNED HEAT: KINGS OF THE BOOGIE (1981)
1) Kings Of The Boogie; 2)
Stoned Bad Street Fighting Man; 3) So Fine; 4) You Can't Get Close To Me; 5)
Hell's Just On Down The Road; 6) I Was Wrong; 7) Little Crystal; 8) Dog House Blues;
9) Sleepy Hollow Baby; 10) Chicken Shack.
Still more lineup changes; by the time they got
around to recording this one, The Bear and Fito were still in, and the lead
guitar position once again miraculously shifted from Harvey Mandel to The
Amazing Disappearing (And Reappearing At Will) Henry Vestine. Unfortunately, an
even more serious problem than a quantum-state lead guitar sound struck them
this time: before the album was completed, Bob Hite happened to miscalculate
his heroin dosage (allegedly, they say he mistook cocaine for heroin),
collapsed on stage, and died on April 6, 1981, somewhere in Hollywood; I think
he was the last of the Woodstock heroes to have the hand of fate catch up with
him in such an ironic manner.
Somehow the band still carried on, though, and
the album was completed with three of the recent members contributing vocals
where necessary: Ernie Rodriguez on bass, Rick Kellog on harp, and Mike Halby
on guitar. There are still plenty of Hite-sung vocal tracks, though, so do not believe
them who say that Human Condition
was the last Hite-led Canned Heat album: if you have enough love/respect for
him as a lead figure, be sure to check out Kings
Of The Boogie, because he actually sounds a little more loose here (or
maybe it's just better production).
The overall style is not that far removed from Human Condition's, though: basic
fast-tempo boogie and generic, but mean-wishing blues-rock constitutes the bulk
of it, and where there are exceptions, I'd rather there wasn't any — for instance,
the band's cover of Johnny Otis' ʽSo Fineʼ is amazingly stiff and sung without
the slightest bit of emotion. Technically, ʽDog House Bluesʼ is also an
exception, because it is credited to two members of Devo (and no, it has
nothing to do with the Devo outtake ʽDoghouse Doghouseʼ that would surface
later from the archives); however, it fits in so naturally with the other
blues-rock tracks here that you could never suspect foul play without checking
the credits.
Anyway, the best tracks on the album are the
fast-paced ones: they close the record with a merry revival of the old Amos
Milburn jump blues classic ʽChicken Shackʼ, energized harmonica and guitar
solos and all, and open it with their own modern day take on jump blues — the
title track probably has the best guitar riff of 'em all, with a nice mix of
syncopation and sustain, and the rhythm section is so tight that even if you
still wish to deny them the title of Kings of the Boogie (or, at least,
continue to insist that they lost that title a decade ago), it would be unfair
to strip them of a lifetime board membership at least.
Guitarist Mike Halby contributes much of the
original songwriting where it is present, and turns out to be a modestly
competent riffmeister with a knack for a decent variation: I think that ʽLittle
Crystalʼ reuses and embellishes the more Spartan riff pattern of CCR's
ʽBootlegʼ, and although ʽStone Bad Street Fighting Manʼ has nothing to do with
the melody of Stones' ʽStreet Fighting Manʼ, the title of the song is amusingly
delivered in the same melodic way as it was done by Mick — coincidence?..
Little things like these add a much-needed pinch of amusement to what otherwise
would be a completely unremarkable set of barroom tunes. Well, frankly
speaking, it is still a fairly unremarkable set of barroom tunes, but then, it
hardly aspires to any higher status. The whole thing, bar the totally
out-of-place Otis cover, is fully adequate to the purpose, and I might even
consider recommending it with a thumbs up, if not for the production, which
might on the whole be even worse than Human
Condition's — almost lo-fi in places (and I am not sure if it is just my
copy, but you can actually sense the engineer adjusting the volume level right
in the middle of the title track... what the heck???).
If there's any place left for real amazement,
it has to be outside the music — with the death of The Bear, you'd think the
team should have finally thought about calling it a day: what is the sense of
retaining a mediocre brand name anyway, after two of the band's chief symbols
had left this world, and the only original member left was the drummer? But
then again, never underestimate the drummer (even if his name happens to be
Phil Collins) — especially in the case of Canned Heat, where, somehow, the
drummer eventually managed to make a difference.
Whoa. I didn't think Canned Heat even had it in them to sound like .38 Special in 1981, let alone collaborate with Devo.
ReplyDelete"I think he was the last of the Woodstock heroes to have the hand of fate catch up with him in such an ironic manner." -- What about John Entwistle? Couldn't he be viewed as a Woodstock hero? :)
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