Bo Carter: Complete Recorded Works Vol. 5

BO CARTER: COMPLETE RECORDED WORKS, VOL. 5 (1938-1940)

1) Let's Get Drunk Again; 2) Some Day; 3) Old Devil; 4) Country Fool; 5) Santa Claus; 6) Be My Salty Dog; 7) Five Dollar Bill; 8) Ways Like A Crawfish; 9) Brown-Skin Woman; 10) Lucille, Lucille; 11) The Country Farm Blues; 12) Border Of New Mexico Blues; 13) Arrangement For Me Blues; 14) Lock The Lock; 15) Trouble, Oh Trouble; 16) Baby Ruth; 17) My Baby; 18) Policy Blues; 19) Tush Hog Blues; 20) My Little Mind; 21) Honey; 22) What You Want Your Daddy To Do.

At some time in the mid- or late 1930s, Bo Carter is reported to have become Blind Bo Carter; and, although the blindness factor never prevented many of his competitors to find and hold on to success, for Bo it was one of the factors that contributed to the decline of his career — probably coupled with other reasons, of course, such as obligatory alcohol abuse and the general decline in popularity of acoustic blues. As late as 1940, he was still recording at his usual rate for the Blue­bird label, but then the recordings stop abruptly, and for the next twenty-four years right until his death in 1964, there is no information on any subsequent recording activities.

Whether it was the blindness or other personal troubles haunting him at the time, recordings from these two last years are not much fun: once again, Bo reverts to «generic» blues, leaving behind most of his colorful double entendres. Many of these tunes are, in fact, recorded in the Robert Johnson vein: it wouldn't be surprising to learn that Bo caught wind of Robert's death, and tried to recast himself as Johnson's successor — at the very least, some of these tracks so deliberately try to copy Johnson's melodies and moods (e. g. ʽBorder Of New Mexico Bluesʼ rewrites ʽSweet Home Chicagoʼ) that a coincidence is unthinkable.

Not that this works as anything other than a curio: Bo's vocals do not have the faintest trace of Johnson's insecurity / vulnerability, and his playing, although, perhaps, at this point not any less complex per se than Johnson's, is nowhere near his choppy, aggressive style. Robert Johnson was, as far as we can tell, a possessed man; Bo Carter was just an agreeable country sleazeball.

Anyway, the only track on this last volume that stands out at least a little is ʽLet's Get Drunk Againʼ, because Bo did relatively few «drinking songs» in his career, and for this one, adopted his best «crooner / yodeller» pose and even thought of an original guitar flourish. Another track that could have been a standout is ʽOld Devil Bluesʼ, quite an ancient folk standard with some impressive finger-flashing picking — except it also fits in the «why can't I be like Robert?» cate­gory and inevitably loses out in the competition due to lackluster singing.

All in all, once you take all the five volumes into consideration, the final verdict is obvious — pick ten to twelve of the man's riskiest songs about wieners, cushions, biscuits, and pig meat, throw in two or three «serious» exercises for good measure, and you got yourself more of The Bo Carter Experience than you'll ever need. Maybe if the old man actually knew his records would be collected, remastered, and reissued long past his glory days, he would bother assigning them a little more individuality. Then again, he probably wouldn't give a damn anyway, as long as the public kept buying the stuff.

  

Bo Carter: Complete Recorded Works Vol. 4 (1936-1938)

BO CARTER: COMPLETE RECORDED WORKS, VOL. 4 (1936-1938)

1) It's Too Wet; 2) Dinner Blues; 3) Ain't Nobody Got It; 4) Cigarette Blues; 5) Pussy Cat Blues; 6) The Ins And Outs Of My Girl; 7) All Around Man (part 2); 8) Bo Carter's Advice; 9) Doubled Up In A Knot; 10) Worried G Blues; 11) Your Biscuits Are Big Enough For Me; 12) Don't Mash My Digger So Deep; 13) Flea On Me; 14) Got To Work Somewhere; 15) Sue Cow; 16) Shake 'Em On Down; 17) A Girl For Every Day Of The Week; 18) Trouble In Blues; 19) World In A Jug; 20) Who's Been Here; 21) Whiskey Blues; 22) Shoo That Chicken.

Vol. 4 is clearly an improvement over Vol. 3 — simple statistics shows that Bo is actively back to the world of innuendos and double entendres: even one lone title like ʽThe Ins And Outs Of My Girlʼ is enough to regain the honors, and that's not even mentioning the actual lyrics ("She got something that I really do love / It ain't in her sto­cking, and you know it's just above").

Musically, the 1936-38 sessions are very sparse: no harmonica or piano accompaniment, and Bo's own guitar skills were not exactly improving (although everything is perfectly listenable as usual). But lyrically, he was on such a roll that it only makes sense to turn this review into a set of mini-quotes. Say, from ʽCigarette Bluesʼ: "Just draw on my cigarette baby / Until you make my good ashes come". Or from ʽYour Biscuits Are Good Enough For Meʼ: "Some men don't care for bis­cuits / They like the doggone fat bun". From ʽAll Around Manʼ: "Now I ain't no milkman / I ain't no milkman's son / I can pull your titties till the milkman comes". Want some more? Well, think of this as the «free tour introduction».

Only a tiny handful of songs veer away from the carnal subject this time — of which only one number, ʽGot To Work Somewhereʼ, deserves special mention: it is Bo's first (I think) and most straightforward number that directly addresses Depression issues, and although he performs it the same «humble» way as he sings and plays everything else, it shouldn't pass by unnoticed: without an occasional excourse into tragedy of this kind, Bo's image of a «sexual clown» could have pas­sed for genuine identity rather than an entertaining act. But this here song gives us a guy in the same tur­moil and distress like everybody else at the time — "beneath this mask I am wearing a frown" indeed.

Of course, one frown is just enough: half a dozen more sides like this and the ef­fect would have been washed out with boredom. So it's a good thing that ʽGot To Workʼ is stuck here somewhere in the middle, and that the collection starts off with ʽIt's Too Wetʼ (what is too wet? Why, Bo's shirt is too wet — what did you think of?..) and ends with the equally playful ʽShoo That Chi­ckenʼ (because he interferes with "my loving at night"). Welcome back to the state of predictable reliability, Mr. Carter. The 1930s wouldn't have been what they were without you.

Bo Carter: Complete Recorded Works Vol. 3 (1934-1936)

BO CARTER: COMPLETE RECORDED WORKS, VOL. 3 (1934-1936)

1) Howlin' Tom Cat Blues; 2) Don't Cross Lay Your Daddy; 3) Who Broke The Latch?; 4) Don't Do It No More; 5) Skin Ball Blues; 6) Shoe Blues; 7) Please Warm My Wiener; 8) She's Gonna Crawl Back Home To You; 9) Let Me Roll Your Lemon; 10) Mashing That Thing; 11) Blue Runner Blues; 12) Fifty-Fifty With Me; 13) To Her Burying Ground; 14) When Your Left Eye Go To Jumping; 15) Ride My Mule; 16) T Baby Blues; 17) I Get The Blues; 18) Spotted Sow Blues; 19) Rolling Blues; 20) All Around Man; 21) Fat Mouth Blues; 22) You Better Know Your Business.

"Won't you please warm my wiener, 'cause it really don't feel right cold". This just might be Bo's badassest refrain of all time; in the «gross» department, the tune certainly beats ʽLet Me Roll Your Lemonʼ, recorded around the same time — we all know the endless references to rolling and squeezing lemons from the blues-rock explosion of the 1960s / 1970s, but not even Robert Plant seemed to mention anything about «warming wieners» either during studio hours or over the course of endless live improvisations. But wait, what are we talking about? Surely that was just an innocent tune, penned by Bo for a hot dog stand publicity campaign. Every good wiener needs some advertising, after all.

The bad news — the very bad news — is, however, that in 1935 Bo significantly cut down on sug­gestive in­nuendos and re-oriented his lyrics towards more «family-friendly», traditional blues clichés, even going as far as to re-write some of his softporn classics: thus, ʽPin In Your Cushionʼ becomes ʽI Get The Bluesʼ, and «your cushion is so soft and warm» becomes «your loving is so soft and warm» — now ain't that a shame? Self-censorship in action.

In a flash, this removes the only good reason why anyone should ever give a damn about Bo Car­ter in the first place. Everything else remains — the decent level of playing, the pleasant vocal style — but is hardly enough to perk up any blues connoisseur's specific interest. The overall for­mula varies only once, on ʽTo Her Burying Groundʼ and the next track, where Bo is accompanied, for the first time ever, by a honky tonk piano, trying on the shoes of an urban blues performer à la Leroy Carr. But who really cares?

Okay, so at some point he does ask his baby to ʽride my muleʼ, and there is a ʽSpotted Sow Bluesʼ which is somewhat of a variation on ʽLittle Red Roosterʼ, except it does seem to correctly refer to female rather than male anatomy. But honestly, neither of these seems half as exploratory and inventive as the masterful fleshy allegories produced by the man in his early years. Hence, the 1935-36 period for Bo Carter can be characterized as a «slump». I mean, Frank Zappa, when he was not pouring forth obscenities, could at least shut up 'n' play his guitar. But what's a Bo Car­ter to do if he runs out of dirty jokes? It's amazing that he could actually keep up the same steady flow of recordings.

  

Bo Carter: Complete Recorded Works Vol. 2

BO CARTER: COMPLETE RECORDED WORKS, VOL. 2 (1931-1934)

1) So Long, Baby, So Long; 2) The Law Gonna Step On You; 3) Pig Meat Is What I Crave; 4) Howling Tom Cat Blues; 5) Ants In My Pants; 6) Blue Runner Blues; 7) I've Got A Case Of Mashin' It; 8) You Don't Love Me No More; 9) What Kind Of Scent Is This; 10) Pretty Baby; 11) I Want You To Know; 12) Last Go Round; 13) I Keep On Spending My Change; 14) Baby, How Can It Be?; 15) Bo Carter Special; 16) Beans; 17) Nobody's Business; 18)  Queen Bee; 19) Tellin' You 'Bout It; 20) Please Don't Drive Me From Your Door; 21) Pin In Your Cushion; 22) Banana In The Fruit Basket.

This and the following reviews are going to be quite short, because, frankly, once you've heard one Bo Carter song — okay, two — all right, three — you've heard three Bo Carter songs, and you'd have to be a seriously obsessed person to crave for more Bo Carter material with the same force that he keeps craving for more pig meat (and we all know the deep metaphor underlying «pig meat»... unless this is really subtle anti-Semitic propaganda, hiding under a veil of sexual urges. Makes one want to check out if Bo ever was on Henry Ford's payroll. Alternatively, ʽPig Meat Is What I Craveʼ would be a great title for a hardcore punk album).

One couldn't accuse Bo of a complete lack of creativity: for instance, it takes a wicked sense of humor to take ʽSittin' On Top Of The Worldʼ and transform it into a song called ʽAnts In My Pantsʼ. And once you get around to his remake of the ragtime classic ʽLog Cabin Bluesʼ, here re­titled as ʽBeansʼ and featuring such lyrics as "I don't want no more navy beans / Boys I don't want no more / I don't want no more navy beans / They're 'bout to make my stomach sore / I ate them last night / And the night before / When I got through, I couldn't shut my door", Mr. Bo Carter suddenly emerges as the Weird Al Yankovic of his generation — except that, unlike Weird Al, Bo is rarely mentioned as a «parodist» in blues histories.

But that is really what he is, and this is why his lyrical, plaintive, serious side (ʽSo Long, Baby, So Longʼ; ʽYou Don't Love Me No Moreʼ) is never as interesting as his goofy, risqué side, which lets you in on a wholly different meaning for the word «broadcast» (ʽBo Carter Specialʼ – "Bo Carter is a man, he broadcasts all over this land... when I get to use my broadcaster, it goes all round and round, and the women receiving are sure to put their men down"), or sets you a-thin­kin' on the intricacies of female anatomy (ʽWhat Kind Of Scent Is Thisʼ) less explicitly, but ar­guably more productively, than any given textbook on the subject.

From a pure musical standpoint, the best numbers here are guitar-fiddle duets with Papa Charlie: ʽTellin' You 'Bout Itʼ, ʽQueen Beeʼ, and a couple others — I would say that Bo was a better team player than solo artist, and hearing his simple, but steady 12-bar picking serving as base for Char­lie's inventive runs and flourishes is a mini-delight. Unfortunately, most of the 1931-1934 tracks are solo efforts, and are generally only as good as the lyrics are (and by «good» I, of course, mean «salacious»). A couple of them are also in awful sound quality (ʽI Want You To Knowʼ is played at about twice less the volume than the other songs, for instance), although that is not the general rule. Overall, Vol. 2 is a notch below Vol. 1 — simply not enough elegant fiddle duets or dirty macho jokes to properly stand the competition.

Bo Carter: Complete Recorded Works Vol. 1 (1928-1931)

BO CARTER: COMPLETE RECORDED WORKS, VOL. 1 (1927-1931)

1) Good Old Turnip Greens; 2) Bungalow Blues; 3) Mary Blues; 4) Electrocuted Blues (Electric Chair Blues); 5) Cor­rine Corrina; 6) East Jackson Blues; 7) I'm An Old Bumble Bee; 8) Mean Feeling Blues; 9) I've Got The Whole World In My Hand; 10) She's Your Cook But She Burns My Bread Sometimes; 11) Same Thing That The Cats Fight About; 12) Time Is Tight Like That; 13) My Pencil Won't Write No More; 14) Banana In Your Fruit Basket; 15) Pin In Your Cushion; 16) Pussy Cat Blues; 17) Ram Rod Daddy; 18) Loveless Love; 19) I Love That Thing; 20) Back­ache Blues; 21) Sorry Feeling Blues; 22) Baby, When You Marry; 23) Boot It; 24) Twist It, Baby.

Armenter Chatmon, better known as Bo Carter, was hardly what you could call a great blues sin­ger. He had a typical blueswailer's voice, standard professional phrasing, and an undisputed feel­ing for the music, but no individuality whatsoever — where a Charlie Patton or a Blind Willie McTell, or maybe even a Leroy Carr are always recognizable through their unique tones, modes, and tricks, Bo Carter is just a «generic» singing bluesman.

Moreover, Armenter Chatmon was hardly what you could call a great blues player. He certainly knew his fair share of chords, and he could play lead lines well enough over rhythm chords for the listener not to get too annoyed, but he mostly played slow and steady, and when he played fast, he was no match for the likes of Blind Blake, Lonnie Johnson, or even Blind Willie McTell. He did know how to play it closer to the blues ideal (for black audiences), or to the country stan­dards (for white ones), but his limits in both directions seem pretty obvious.

Furthermore, Armenter Chatmon did relatively little to advance any of the genres that he perused. Of the 24 songs on this first volume, for instance, maybe only about four or five follow distinctly different melodies, and not a single one goes one step beyond simple formulaic entertainment. Try as you might, you will not find the «pain and anguish and suffering of the oppressed black minorities» in this man's music: most of his recording life, he just worked for his money and seemed to be quite happy and content when he could get some. (Major exception on his earliest recordings: ʽGood Old Turnip Greensʼ is an old folk song that deals precisely with the issue of se­gregation and social injustice. But it is funny how quickly he went from that to... er...).

So why did he get it? How come did Bo Carter become one of his era's most famous, most pro­lific (over 100 sides cut in about 10 years), most publicly beloved performers? The answer is sim­ple: Bo Carter was a really dirty, salacious, innuendo-scattering son-of-a-bitch. As popular as all those double entendres were on the blues market, Bo Carter had everybody else eating from the palm of his hand in that department. From "let me put my banana in your fruit basket, then I'll be satis­fied" to "let me stick my pin in your cushion, 'cause your cushion's so soft and warm" to the less joyous "the lead's all gone, this pen­cil won't write no more", this Man (with a big M) meant so much business that buying his records must have been the next best thing for those who couldn't lay their hands on a smuggled copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover.

Okay, so other than that, Bo had his merits. He played with the Mississippi Sheiks, for black and white audiences alike, which earned him extra popularity. He recorded the original ʽCorrine, Cor­rinaʼ, accompanied by Papa Charlie McCoy on fiddle and vocals, back in 1928 (although he cer­tainly did not write the song — just copyrighted it). And he was capable of authentic melancholy blues as well (ʽSorry Feeling Bluesʼ). And he could even yodel in a credible fashion (ʽBaby, When You Marryʼ).

So there may be occasional reasons other than «historic snicker» to listen to this stuff. But not a lot of them. The main reason are the words — you'll have to search high and low to find that many sexual innuendos crammed on one disc. It is hard to tell just how many of them were inven­ted by Bo in person (I think he started out with the traditional stuff, then took off on an individual flight with all the references to pencils, pins, and ram rods), but this was definitely an area where he could be both an avid collector and an ardent inventor at the same time.

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