Shemekia Copeland - Blame It On Eve

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 producer 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

Shemekia Copeland - one tough mother

Pic by Janet Mama Tagayama

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 a wide 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.

Shemekia Copeland - Done Come Too Far

I won’t lie.  There are times when I find listening to Shemekia Copeland hard work.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m firmly in her camp when it comes to the social issues highlighted in many of her songs – with the input of her manager and lyricist John Hahn.  But sometimes it can all seem a bit earnest, her delivery a bit declamatory.  And she also has an occasional fondness for vocal vibrato that I don’t share.  But for all that, Shemekia Copeland is still an artist who demands attention.

Shemekia Copeland brings some sunshine with her smile

Pic by Victoria Smith

There are several songs here that continue her focus on civil rights and the black American experience.  The opening ‘Too Far To Be Gone’ rides in on a heavy, insistent riff, while Copeland references inspirations such as Rosetta Parks in a forceful, positive vocal that speaks of continuing unity and resolve.  There’s a strong bridge, and Sonny Landreth contributes some trademark slide guitar.  Later, the title track ‘Done Come Too Far’ shares a similar tag line, but is a more sombre affair.  Here the focus is less on inspirations of the past than the need for grim determination in the face of continuing challenges, over solemnly steely, twanging guitar and with added resonance from the brooding voice of Cedric Burnside.
Meanwhile ‘The Talk’ is a powerful illustration of those challenges, a dramatic monologue in which a mother tutors her son in how to cope with life-threatening provocation, summed up in the lines “As sure as you’re black, there’s a target on your back”.  Copeland’s vocal is emotive, although for me she doesn’t need to lean on a shaking, warbling vibrato to convey the emotion.  As compensation though, there’s some excellent, edgy guitar work from Will Kimbrough – not one of the North Mississippi Kimbrough clan – who also co-writes most of the material with Hahn.  ‘Gullah Geechee’ is a more stripped back tune, all handclaps, moaned backing vocals, and African gourd banjo as it adds a historical perspective by harking back to earlier experiences of slavery.
Other serious subjects get an airing in the form of ‘Why Why Why’, a soulful but rootsy ballad expressing the confusion of a victim of infidelity, with excellent weeping slide from Kimbrough.  ‘The Dolls Are Sleeping’ is a slice of dark storytelling about child abuse, put over by little more than Copeland’s voice and acoustic guitar from Oliver Wood.  But the best song in this vein is perhaps ‘Pink Turns To Red’, a brisk and coherent track that tackles the subject of mass shootings with urgency, strong imagery, and more quality slide colourings from Kimbrough.
This is all weighty stuff, and Copeland and her team evidently recognise the need for a spoonful of sugar to help it go down.  So ‘Fried Catfish And Bibles’ is three minutes of zydeco-dressed fun, and ‘Fell In Love With A Honky’ is a comical salute to interracial relationships that’s a rattling country tune right down to its fiddle and pedal steel guitar.  ‘Dumb It Down’, an eye-rolling pop at social media influencers, is lightly funky and relaxed but its bright chorus sounds derivative, and there ain’t much else to grab the attention beyond some low-key burbling sax.
The album closes strongly though, with ‘Nobody But You’, a song by her bluesman father Johnny.  It’s a stop-time riffing, bump’n’grinding blues delivered with woozily behind-the-beat drums from Pete Abbott, lolloping bass from Lex Price, and stinging guitar from Kimbrough.  Oh yeah, and Copeland confidently explores all the vocal angles the song has to offer.
Done Come Too Far is a tough listen at times, from a lyrical perspective.  But Copeland and Hahn deserve credit for tackling big issues.  And the album also works musically, thanks to Will Kimbrough’s songwriting and production.  All in all, Done Come Too Far is another impressive outing from one of the most significant contemporary blues artists out there.
 
Done Come Too Far is released by Alligator Records on 19 August.

Alligator Records: 50 Years Of Genuine Houserockin' Music

With a blockbusting 58 tracks, this compilation celebrating 50 years of Alligator Records is certainly a representative tour of the label’s roster over the years.  And what’s most enjoyable about the collection is the way its variety underlines the point that the house of blues has many rooms.
That notion is nowhere better exemplified than on the opening track, ‘Give Me Back My Wig’ by Hound Dog Taylor & The Houserockers.  This was the very act that gave birth to Alligator when Bruce Iglauer couldn’t persuade his boss, Bob Koester of Delmark Records, to record them, and

Alligator then, with Hound Dog Taylor . . .

Pic by Diane Allmen

so resolved to do it himself.  ‘Give Me Back My Wig’ is an itchy, scratchy, fuzzy piece of business, like a ragged and hyperactive version of ‘The Boy From New York City’ – and it’s a wicked delight.
That sense of getting beyond the obvious is a recurring pleasure across this 3 CD set, whether in the breezy harp instrumental ‘Have Mercy’ by Big Walter Horton and Carey Bell, the piano and horns New Orleans sound of Professor Longhair on ‘It’s My Fault’, with its eccentric yelping vocal, or the stuttering, twitching version of ‘Got My Mojo Working’ by Clarence ‘Gatemouth’ Brown.
There’s a great run of more contemporary tracks on Disc 3 that ventures into several different vibes to great effect, kicking off with the Delbert McClinton-like soulful rock’n’roll of Curtis Salgado on ‘The Longer That I Live’.  Selwyn Birchwood’s ‘Living In A Burning House’ follows, edgy but vibrant, before the old-stagers Elvin Bishop and Charlie Musselwhite take things down with the sombre guitar and harp duet of ‘Midnight Hour Blues’.  Then the Cash Box Kings ramp things up again with the smile-inducing, dance-able jump blues of ‘Ain’t No Fun (When The Rabbit Got The Gun)’, as a prelude to the rockin’ boogie of Tommy Castro & The Painkillers’ live rendition of ‘Make It Back To Memphis’.
In between there’s plenty of the classic guitar-led blues style to keep the six-string lovers happy, ranging from Fenton Robinson packing plenty into three minutes on his excellent 1974 re-recording of ‘Somebody Loan Me A Dime’, to Albert Collins showing just how to do a slow blues with ‘Blue Monday Hangover’, to Luther Allison ripping it up on a rollicking live reading of ‘Soul Fixin’ Man’, and on to 2019 with Christone ‘Kingfish’ Ingram and the big, fat, dirty groove of ‘Outside Of This Town’.
There are female voices too, starting with Iglauer’s early signing Koko Taylor, who groans and rasps her way through the R’n’B of ‘I’m A Woman’.  Marcia Ball delivers a paean to New Orleans

. . . to Alligator now, with Christone 'Kingfish' Ingram

Pic by Rory Doyle

with the cajun-inflected ‘Party Town’, while Shemekia Copeland’s ‘Clotilda’s On Fire’ is a typically bruising piece reminder about the about the slave-traded origins of African-American oppression.  Oh yeah, and Janiva Magness hits her sweet spot on the funky soul of ‘That’s What Love Will Make You Do’.
There are also less familiar names, to me at least.  Another female singer, Saffire, The Uppity Blues Woman, comes up trumps with rattling piano-led accompaniment to her Nina Simone-like pipes on 'Sloppy Drunk'.  Meanwhile The Paladins get shaking on ‘Keep On Lovin’ Me Baby’, which enters on a Hendrixy shiver of guitar before vaulting into the energetic, snare-snapping tune itself.  And Corey Harris and Henry Butler come up with some hand-clapping acapella gospel on ‘Why Don’t You Live So God Can Use You’.
There are a couple of stretches when some of those guitar lovin’ fellas seem to be ploughing an all too similar furrow, in contrast to the stylistic variety and quirks of character on offer from other artists.  But there are also plenty of other little gems, too many to name check them all, that make Alligator Records: 50 Years Of Genuine Houserockin’ Music a more than worthwhile proposition – and also an excellent entry point if you want to explore the Alligator catalogue.

Alligator Records: 50 Years Of Houserockin' Music is released by Alligator Records on Friday 18 June.

Robben Ford - Purple House

When I was looking up this album on Amazon in readiness to buy it – yes folks, I do actually shell out my own shekels on some of this stuff – I noticed that the reviews were mixed. One complains that the album’s disjointed and doesn’t flow, amongst other things, while another says it’s Ford’s weakest outing of all, and someone else moans about it consisting of just 9 tracks spread over 35 minutes.  To all of which I can only say this: phooey!

I can’t tell you I’ve got all of Robben Ford’s stuff.  But I can tell you that his 2015 album, Into The Sun, has had regular airplay in this house. Why?  Because it showed that Ford is someone prepared to think outside the same old box and explore fresh angles, which he does with cool assurance rather than any kind of show-offery.

Cool dude Robben Ford captured in a warm light

The same is true of Purple House.  If you were to tell me, for example, that Ford had spent some time listening to Fleet Foxes in the run-up to making this album, I wouldn’t be surprised.  Not that you’ll hear anything that sounds like ‘White Winter Hymnal’, all folky acoustic arrangements and soaring harmonies.  But songs like ‘Empty Handed’, ‘Bound For Glory (Underdog Rises)’ and ‘Willing To Wait’ respectively feature ambient, reverb-drenched vocals, a halting guitar motif, and ringing chords under a verse that suggest ‘Rain Song’ as much as indie-folk.  And with some evocative images thrown into the lyrics, a pastoral quality can be glimpsed in some of these songs.

But that’s not the whole story.  ‘Tangle With Ya’ kicks things off with clattering, syncopated drums from Derek Phillips, ahead of a surging, ascending riff and bursts of sax that create an air of just-contained urgency – before Ford tops things off with a sumptuous, Steely Dan-like guitar solo.  Contrastingly, ‘What I Haven’t Done’, written by Kyle Swan, has a lazy feel, with a drawling, dragging vocal and woozy horns, before a bridge that quotes ‘Soul Man’ as it triggers Ford’s solo.

What you also get are some dreamily catchy choruses, as on ‘Bound For Glory’, where it’s attached to a sparkling guitar line, and the earworm-hook of ‘Break In The Chain’.  The latter sets sail with acoustic strumming including rippling chords, and an assertive vocal from Ford, before progressing after a minute and a half to some tough guitar that heralds guest vocals from Shemekia Copeland, and then an intriguing, semi-scrabbling middle eight that carries hints of Hendrix.  On the brief ‘Wild Honey’, meanwhile, there’s a creeping, guitar line at the outset, leading to a luscious chorus, while a prickling guitar theme comes and goes.

Ford takes a step back at the start of ‘Cotton Candy’, letting it lean on a snapping snare drum, bass and vocals as it develops an implicitly funky vibe that’s reinforced by Tyler Summers’ sax.  Then the guitar weighs in with Prince-like pinging notes that counterpoint a top notch solo.  Then going down another avenue, ‘Somebody’s Fool’ is a crunching, modern day blues – nothing original about the tune, but the delivery is stonkingly good, with a gritty, swaggering vocal courtesy of Travis McCready, and squelching guitar accompaniment.

The aforementioned ‘Willing To Wait’ features a crystalline guitar intro, and a piercing, brittle solo from Drew Smithers that twists into a shimmering, psychedelic bridge, and ultimately a brief, hooky vocal outro that’s rounded out – not for the first time – by lush female backing vocals.

There’s an inventiveness at work throughout these songs that picks up where Into The Sun left off.  It only lasts 35 minutes - so what?  Robben Ford packs more content into that space than many artists would manage in an hour.  If Jeff Beck is someone who gets plaudits for pushing the boundaries, then so should Ford – and he writes good songs too, songs that aren’t run of the mill.  If it’s supersonic shredding from a guitar slinger that floats your boat then look elsewhere.  But if you’re up for some less-is-more imagination then look no further.