Shemekia Copeland is the grande dame of soul and blues music. I don’t mean that she’s some elder stateswoman – she’s only 45, after all. But there’s a quality and confidence about her that stands out. I may have qualms about her occasional liking for a vibrato vocal, and now and then a song can go beyond the serious to the po-faced. But Blame It On Eve shows just why she’s racked up so many awards over the years.
Copeland may not write her own material, but her writing team led by John Hahn and producerr Will Kimbrough give her plenty of variety to work with, and regardless of the style she can deliver the goods. There’s both wit and seriousness in the soul-leaning rock’n’roll of the title track for example, contemplating how women have got it in the neck since the Garden of Eden right up to
how “the worst winds come from D.C., stealing rights from you and me”, the sassy delivery underlined by the comic low end of Jim Hoke’s parping sax.
There’s more humour in the old-fashioned drawling blues of ‘Wine O’Clock’, Copeland declaring with conviction “Think I’ll have another glass, the world can kiss my ass”, accompanied by a squawking, slurring guitar solo from Kimbrough.
Boogie inflections are a go-to vibe. ‘Tough Mother’ is a testament to female resilience that starts off low-key but gradually gathers itself into a strut via injections of slide, the lyrics making a neat contrast between knives on the street and a life-saving surgeon’s knife while Kimbrough and the guesting Luther Dickinson conjure up some impressive guitar interplay. There are country tinges to the boogie on ‘Cadillac Blue’, the title referencing a partner’s eye colour for a contemplation of inter-racial relationship full of woozy lap steel stirrings from Jerry Douglas.
Hey, we even get a couple of outings for Shemekia Copeland the rock chick on ‘Broken High Heels’ and ‘Is There Anybody Up There?’. The former is a slice of snap, crackle and wop-bop-a-loo-bop on which Copeland has fun giving the finger to contemporary troubles, “Dancing in the graveyard in broken high heels” over burbling bass and Kimbrough contriving Stonesy interweaving guitar parts. On ‘Is There Anybody Up There?’ she enlists vocal support from Alejandro Escovedo on a sturdily rocking commentary on anger and hate that asks if there is a god who can help – an unusual opening for doubt when black roots music generally cleaves strongly to faith.
And indeed ‘Tell The Devil’ is a gospel-country hoot on which Copeland insists “Tell the devil to go to hell, I gave my soul to Jesus”, backed up by tobogganing slide guitar, while the closing ‘Heaven Help Us All’ is essentially a prayer for peace and harmony. Starting off cool and relaxed, with a clipped guitar tone and lowing organ in the background, it builds through gospel backing vocals from Lisa Oliver Gray and Odessa Settles that arrive at halfway and should really have been maxed out to give a pleasant but lightweight song a grand finale.
Copeland’s stylistic range is underscored by her sensitive delivery on ‘Only Miss You All The Time’, with its lovely, minimalist arrangement, even if trite lines like “Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine / That’s why God created wine” feel misplaced. ‘Belle Sorciere’ is even more sparsely atmospheric, Copland crooning the tragic story of a Creole woman and Cajun man, leaning on gentle guitar, moaning cello, and harmonies from co-writer Pascal Danae.
‘Tee Tot Payne’ goes back to the roots for a mandolin-twirling, Dobro-twanging account, over a simple, lazy beat, of the Alabama busker who taught Hank Williams the blues. But more satisfying is the cover of the bump’n’grind blues ‘Down On Bended Knee’, written by Copeland’s father Johnny. Over a sackful of stinging guitar licks, Copeland knocks out a quavering, emotive vocal begging her baby to come back, matched by a wrenching solo from Kimbrough.
Blame It On Eve isn’t a game-changing, revolutionary album. You’ll need to look elsewhere for that. But it is an assertive, intelligent showcase for the range of blues’n’roots music, delivered by a singer and team who know exactly what they’re about. And Shemekia Copeland continues to bring an indefinable regal quality to proceedings.
Blame It On Eve is released on 30 August by Alligator Records.
Copeland may not write her own material, but her writing team led by John Hahn and producerr Will Kimbrough give her plenty of variety to work with, and regardless of the style she can deliver the goods. There’s both wit and seriousness in the soul-leaning rock’n’roll of the title track for example, contemplating how women have got it in the neck since the Garden of Eden right up to
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| Shemekia Copeland - one tough mother Pic by Janet Mama Tagayama |
There’s more humour in the old-fashioned drawling blues of ‘Wine O’Clock’, Copeland declaring with conviction “Think I’ll have another glass, the world can kiss my ass”, accompanied by a squawking, slurring guitar solo from Kimbrough.
Boogie inflections are a go-to vibe. ‘Tough Mother’ is a testament to female resilience that starts off low-key but gradually gathers itself into a strut via injections of slide, the lyrics making a neat contrast between knives on the street and a life-saving surgeon’s knife while Kimbrough and the guesting Luther Dickinson conjure up some impressive guitar interplay. There are country tinges to the boogie on ‘Cadillac Blue’, the title referencing a partner’s eye colour for a contemplation of inter-racial relationship full of woozy lap steel stirrings from Jerry Douglas.
Hey, we even get a couple of outings for Shemekia Copeland the rock chick on ‘Broken High Heels’ and ‘Is There Anybody Up There?’. The former is a slice of snap, crackle and wop-bop-a-loo-bop on which Copeland has fun giving the finger to contemporary troubles, “Dancing in the graveyard in broken high heels” over burbling bass and Kimbrough contriving Stonesy interweaving guitar parts. On ‘Is There Anybody Up There?’ she enlists vocal support from Alejandro Escovedo on a sturdily rocking commentary on anger and hate that asks if there is a god who can help – an unusual opening for doubt when black roots music generally cleaves strongly to faith.
And indeed ‘Tell The Devil’ is a gospel-country hoot on which Copeland insists “Tell the devil to go to hell, I gave my soul to Jesus”, backed up by tobogganing slide guitar, while the closing ‘Heaven Help Us All’ is essentially a prayer for peace and harmony. Starting off cool and relaxed, with a clipped guitar tone and lowing organ in the background, it builds through gospel backing vocals from Lisa Oliver Gray and Odessa Settles that arrive at halfway and should really have been maxed out to give a pleasant but lightweight song a grand finale.
Copeland’s stylistic range is underscored by her sensitive delivery on ‘Only Miss You All The Time’, with its lovely, minimalist arrangement, even if trite lines like “Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine / That’s why God created wine” feel misplaced. ‘Belle Sorciere’ is even more sparsely atmospheric, Copland crooning the tragic story of a Creole woman and Cajun man, leaning on gentle guitar, moaning cello, and harmonies from co-writer Pascal Danae.
‘Tee Tot Payne’ goes back to the roots for a mandolin-twirling, Dobro-twanging account, over a simple, lazy beat, of the Alabama busker who taught Hank Williams the blues. But more satisfying is the cover of the bump’n’grind blues ‘Down On Bended Knee’, written by Copeland’s father Johnny. Over a sackful of stinging guitar licks, Copeland knocks out a quavering, emotive vocal begging her baby to come back, matched by a wrenching solo from Kimbrough.
Blame It On Eve isn’t a game-changing, revolutionary album. You’ll need to look elsewhere for that. But it is an assertive, intelligent showcase for the range of blues’n’roots music, delivered by a singer and team who know exactly what they’re about. And Shemekia Copeland continues to bring an indefinable regal quality to proceedings.
Blame It On Eve is released on 30 August by Alligator Records.
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