Albert Collins: The Iceman At Mount Fuji

ALBERT COLLINS: THE ICEMAN AT MOUNT FUJI (1992; 2005)

1) Iceman; 2) Put The Shoe On The Other Foot; 3) Lights Are On But Nobody's Home; 4) If You Love Me Like You Say; 5) Same Old Thing; 6) Travelin' South; 7) Iceman; 8) Put The Shoe On The Other Foot; 9) Lights Are On But No­body's Home; 10) Honey Hush; 11) Same Old Thing; 12) Frosty.

We say goodbye to «Master of the Telecaster» with this archive release, available both on CD and DVD, that captures a smokin' August 1992 performance at the Mt. Fuji Jazz Festival, on the sweet banks of Lake Yamanaka. (Another archival CD/DVD product from the same time is Live At Montreux, but, since bits of that performance had already been previously released on Live '92-'93, dedicating special space to it would be overkill).

Albert played two relatively brief sets that day, both of which are included on the CD and may be discomforting for the novice — to a large extent, they are identical, except for two songs (and even then, 'Travelin' South' and 'Frosty' are both fast boogies, and 'If You Love Me...' and 'Honey Hush' are both mid-tempo blues-rock) and a slightly extended and more aggressive 'Iceman' in the second set. Considering that all of this material had already been played for the '92-'93 shows, the album is clearly redundant.

I wish I could say that these performances blow the US live tracks away, but, frankly, they don't — they are equally good, no more, no less. It is unfair to say that Collins' playing style did not change over the years. Comparing these fast, complex, and quite modern-sounding bursts of licks to the much simpler, much less developed (but always inventive) style of his late 1950s / early 1960s playing, it is nothing short of amazing how easily he made the transgression from «Fifties electric blues player» to «rock era electric blues player», one of the very, very few veterans of his generation to be able to manage that (in a way, not even B. B. King, in all of his lifetime, had ma­naged to truly break the chains that tied him to his formative years).

But there is a limit to any kind of evolution, and where you can expect from, say, Eric Clapton to play at least something different every night — to add up an unpredictable twist or two on the spur of the particular moment (not that it always happens, mind you, but you are entitled to ex­pect it) — you cannot expect it from The Iceman, who simply goes out on tour and delivers what he is used to delivering. Not to mean that these solos are note-for-note identical with '92-'93, but what kind of an obsessed maniac would really want to compare them note-for-note?

In short, if you already have '92-'93, don't bother with the CD (the DVD might be fun, though). If you don't, and Mt. Fuji, being the more recent issue of the two, is lying close at hand, go for it, but keep in mind that you are really getting six songs (okay, eight at most) for the price of twelve.

Check "The Ice Man At Mount Fuji" (CD) on Amazon

Albert Collins: Live '92-'93

ALBERT COLLINS: LIVE '92-'93 (1995)

1) Iceman; 2) Lights Are On But Nobody's Home; 3) If You Love Me Like You Say; 4) Put The Shoe On The Other Foot; 5) Frosty; 6) Travelin' South; 7) Talkin' Woman; 8) My Woman Has A Black Cat Bone; 9) I Ain't Drunk; 10) T-Bone Shuffle.

One thing of note about this posthumous release is that there is no telling any significant diffe­rence between the tracks recorded in 1992 (at a couple US gigs) and in 1993 (at the Montreux Jazz Festival) — even though, while playing at Montreux, Albert was well aware that he had about three months left to live, having been diagnosed with lung and liver cancer a month prior to the gig. It helps a lot to keep that in mind while listening, because, otherwise, well, it's just ano­ther live Albert Collins album, right?

A pretty good one, actually, even if the setlist is a bit too heavy on material from his latest, and not particularly inspired, pair of albums. But, surprise surprise, the songs come alive: 'Iceman' is one minute shorter because it's taken at a slightly faster tempo, and the solos are crisper and more fierce than they were in the studio, where the production surreptitiously muffled and sanitized them. The funky 'Put The Shoe On The Other Foot', on the other hand, is extended, giving the bass player more chances to flaunt his chugging awesomeness, and putting Albert into «stinging» mode at least twice, which he never achieved on the song in the studio.

The lowlight is 'I Ain't Drunk', which loses much of its effect by paying little attention to the pre­cise, comic timing of the original — the band speeds it up, loosens its grip, and still insists on passing it off as a joke number, with Albert's «improvised» chat with the band members about whether he really is drunk or, well, just drinking. But that's just one notable misstep, and they im­mediately cover up for it by playing the harshest, bristliest rendition of 'T-Bone Shuffle' ever.

So maybe there really isn't one single lick on here that Albert hasn't played for your pleasure before, but I am a big context devotee, and the context here consists of two details: (a) this here is a nearly dead man, and he is still playing like all hellhounds were on his trail and the guitar was his equivalent of a big fat cudgel; (b) this here is a man who had battled all his life to maintain his integrity in the studio, and when the studio tried to take away the smallest part of his integrity, he put it all in his stage playing to show us that he certainly ain't «bending like a willow tree». He just passed away quietly in November 1993, untamed to the last. Thumbs up for having been the Master of the Telecaster for thirty-five years, unchallenged.

Check "Live 92-93" (CD) on Amazon
Check "Live 92-93" (MP3) on Amazon

Albert Collins: Iceman

ALBERT COLLINS: ICEMAN (1991)

1) Mr. Collins, Mr. Collins; 2) Iceman; 3) Don’t Mistake Kindness For Weakness; 4) Travellin’ South; 5) Put The Show On The Other Foot; 6) I’m Beginning To Wonder; 7) Head Rag; 8) The Hawk; 9) Blues For Gabe; 10) Mr. Col­lins, Mr. Collins (faded version).

The gods were so angry with Collins for selling out to a major label (Virgin, or, more precisely, its subsidiary Pointblank), that they sent him to hell with liver cancer two years later. But appare­ntly none of the gods took the trouble of actually listening to the album, because there is nothing whatsoever that would seriously set it apart from his Alligator records. Its main flaw is recyclism, not sellout-ism. With Johnny Gayden still on bass, and Albert and his wife in tight control of the songwriting, performing, arranging, and production, no doctoring is involved — and I am not even sure this is so much of a plus.

The only thing about Iceman that’s memorable is the little funky guitar grumble that opens the album, and a worried female chorus that retorts: “Mr. Collins, Mr. Collins... please, Mr. Collins... DON’T PLAY SO LOUD!” And, in general, Mr. Collins obliges. There are almost no fiery out­bursts that could, in the end, save face even for the weakest of his Alligator albums: ‘Blues For Gabe’, for instance, an instrumental that closes the album and could be expected to blow away the roof, is unpleasantly tepid, and puts as much of a spotlight on the guitar as it does on the or­gan and trombone solos, a real crime when it comes to Collins.

Everything is professional, but there is truly nothing here that is not a rewrite of some earlier suc­cess (or misfire), and the only way to admire Iceman is for the man’s tenacity: true, he has firmly wedged the formula into the ground, but he managed to bravely carry it through the disco, New Wave, synth pop, hair metal, and grunge eras without even pretending to notice that any of these eras really took place. Not even Virgin record executives could make him admit this. From that angle, Iceman is deserving of deep respect (and how many 60-year old bluesmen can sustain that level of energy, anyway? Buddy Guy, perhaps) — but from any other, it is stunningly weak, with no strength left at all to come up with even modestly new ideas. At least ‘I Ain’t Drunk’ had the no­velty factor to it, and then there were all these tunes on which he used the guitar for cool spe­cial effects, but no such luck here: Iceman is the kind of album the man could easily produce at the rate of a dozen a day. Thumbs down.

Albert Collins: Cold Snap

ALBERT COLLINS: COLD SNAP (1986)

1) Cash Talkin' (The Workingman's Blues); 2) Bending Like A Willow Tree; 3) A Good Fool Is Hard To Find; 4) Lights Are On But Nobody's Home; 5) I Ain't Drunk; 6) Hooked On You; 7) Too Many Dirty Dishes; 8) Snatchin' It Back; 9) Fake ID.

Albert's last album for Alligator is sometimes decried for finally falling prey to Eighties' produc­tion excesses, but, honestly, all it takes to hush down the detractors is play it back to back with Eric Clapton's August, released at about the same time. Yes, there seems to be some electronic echo effects forced on the drummer, but that's about the total extent — you can deduce the de­cade, but there are no significant attempts to «modernize» (i. e., «sterilize») neither the sound of Albert himself, nor that of his backing band.

The real problem is that it is simply more of the same: Ice Pickin' Vol. 4. (You kinda sorta begin to get the idea when you line up all four LPs and start looking at the album sleeves in succession). Only two of the tracks merit separate commenting. 'I Ain't Drunk (I'm Just Drinkin')' says it all in the title: as old as its Chuck Berry-spin-off-dance-blues groove may be, it is a fun tune to have lying around when you need justification for alcohol intake. And on the near-obligatory gimmick performance 'Too Ma­ny Dirty Dishes', the Master aptly coerces the Tele­caster into imitating the sounds of scrubbing pots, pans, and glasses, as he is mumbling stuff like "You wait 'til that woman get home, I'm scrap­pin' all these pots for her" under his nose. As usual, it is not so much hilarious as it is mildly amusing, but all the sound effects are cool, in a hard-to-understand way.

Of the other tunes, the best instrumental performances are on the rocking album opener 'Cash Talkin' and on the more rocking album closing instrumental 'Fake ID' — but it is nothing we have not heard before. The horns work well on the lengthy blues-de-luxe of 'Lights Are On' and not so well on the way-too-poppy 'Hooked On You'. Frankly, I cannot even begin to discern whether the band sounds tired or inspired — they've been at it so long now, it seems like in 1986 Albert was able to achieve this kind of level while sleepwalking. Which is admirable and terrifying at the same time.

Check "Cold Snap" (CD) on Amazon
Check "Cold Snap" (MP3) on Amazon

Albert Collins: Live In Japan

ALBERT COLLINS: LIVE IN JAPAN (1984)

1) Listen Here!; 2) Tired Man; 3) If Trouble Was Money; 4) Jealous Man; 5) Stormy Monday; 6) Skatin'; 7) All About My Girl.

Two live albums in four years is a bit of an overkill, but few can resist the temptation of adding a Live In Japan credit to their name at one time or another, since, after all, it is a scientifically pro­ven fact that the proximity of Mount Fuji significantly increases the precision of your playing, and that the close presence of the Imperial Family is sufficient to make the mikes pick up such ultra frequencies as normally remain undetected by the best equipment under standard conditions.

Other than that, there is not much that makes Live In Japan (recorded, actually, on December 21, 1982) deserving of a special review. Only the setlist is unusual, consisting mostly of numbers that cannot be found on any of Albert's studio recordings — with the sole exception of 'All About My Girl' from Love Can Be Found Anywhere, here extended to thrice its original length and turned into an exciting dialog between the guitar and the backing saxophone. But all of the substitu­tions are generally standard fare, concentrating on slow-tempo 12-bar and fast-paced boogie.

The idea was probably not to repeat too much from Frozen Alive!, but by concentrating on «rari­ties», Albert, or whoever else is behind the sequencing, loses the diversity part of the attraction: there is really nothing too thrilling about including two lengthy, same-sounding, draggy blues work­outs ('If Trouble Was Money' and 'Stormy Monday') on the same record. Thus, despite the fact that sound quality is indeed near-perfect, and the fact that Albert plays with all of his usual in­spiration (no surprise here), I could not recommend this to anybody but the direst fans of either Albert Collins or the Imperial Family.

Check "Live In Japan" (CD) on Amazon
Check "Live In Japan" (MP3) on Amazon

Albert Collins: Don't Lose Your Cool

ALBERT COLLINS: DON'T LOSE YOUR COOL (1983)

1) Get To Gettin'; 2) My Mind Is Trying To Leave Me; 3) I'm Broke; 4) Don't Lose Your Cool; 5) When A Guitar Plays The Blues; 6) But I Was Cool!; 7) Melt Down; 8) Ego Trip; 9) Quicksand.

This is basically Ice Pickin', Vol. 3, deserving an ever-decreasing volume of innovative review­ing content. The title track, as you may remember, is an old old instrumental from almost three decades ago, and Albert's decision to re-record it is a bit disturbing, indicating a gradual shift into the «elder statesmen» category. Of course, it is twice as long, and the old riffs have lost none of their blockheaded charm, and now they are augmented by about two minutes of blazing solos that prove Albert's adeptness at both minimalism and grand flash, but...

...well, at the very least nobody can accuse the man of losing his cool. Later on, he turns the joke on himself with the novelty number 'But I Was Cool!', which continues the style of 'Don't Go Re­aching Across My Plate' from the last record. The novelty includes an "OH SHIIIIIT!" blasted at the top of Albert's lungs if you want a whiff of uniqueness, and the song is really not very funny, but at least it is something to discuss.

The rest is standard fare early-Eighties Collins: 'I'm Broke' is catchy R'n'B, 'When A Guitar Plays The Blues' is burning soul (although, ashamed as I am to admit, Albert's solos on these burning soul numbers never manage to burn up my soul), 'Ego Trip' is well-oiled funk, and 'My Mind Is Trying To Leave Me' is seven and a half minutes of professional, but undistinguished blues-de-luxe. The formula works well, but, unlike AC/DC, Albert never bothers much about coming up with memorable riffs, and his personal arsenal of solo licks, although replenished and repainted on Ice Pickin', has not un­dergone any further renovations since then.

In the end, 'I'm Broke' is really fun, and 'But I Was Cool!' is annoying, but weird, and it is also nice to see the man stubbornly stick to the old, but fresh and lively playing and arranging style, with none of the early Eighties' fancy-pants soul-killin' production excesses. Thumbs up, auto­matically, for any album that sounds like this — but recommended more for hardcore blues mu­sicians and technicians rather than anyone else.

Check "Don't Lose Your Cool" (CD) on Amazon
Check "Don't Lose Your Cool" (MP3) on Amazon