REVIEW: Buddy Guy, Heavy Love (Silvertone)
- Daniel Aloi
Buddy Guy does not fake it. It's not all show. The moves are not down pat, ready to be repeated night after night, album after album.
He knows he was there first, playing the blues licks picked up on by Hendrix and Clapton; he once even thought he was learning a thing or two from Stevie Ray until he realized they were his, and Stevie had learned 'em from Jimi...the blues comes full circle in Guy's meaty hands, whenever they're wrapped around one of his polka-dot Fenders. So another great album from Buddy Guy is no great shakes, if you've been following him over the past 10 years or more. It's the sheer newness of Heavy Love that grabs me.
It wouldn't sound dated next to Jonny Lang or Kenny Wayne Shepherd, nor would it scare the Blues Traveler crowd out of a club if it came on the jukebox. But it's also heavy with love for blues tradition, without belaboring any of its cliches. Chicago blues is such a tired, shopworn and bar-bland-massacred style by now that it's fantastic to see one of its pioneers and seminal stars still on top as an innovator, 40 years after he started as a hot side- and session man.
The funky title track establishes the album's badass promise flat out at the beginning, and introduces the band -- Reese Wynans' organ swirls; Richie Hayward, in control as he flails at his sprawling drum kit; Steve Cropper's precise guitar counterpoint to Guy's massive wah-wah.
There. Wait. Dig this lineup, and where they've been -- the axeman for all of Stax/Volt land, Booker T. and the Blues Brothers, with the key player for Joe Ely, Lee Roy Parnell, and Double Trouble, and the timekeeper for Little Feat. If Guy took this band on the road he could knock B.B. King off the top of the blues festival circuit. Or at least have a damn good time trying.
On the second track, Lang duets on a powerful "Midnight Train," answering Guy on every chorus of the lost-gone-can't-get-her-back song. Lang's voice is strong, not as seasoned or flexible, obviously, as Guy's -- but the Kid and the Guy work very well together, even if it's in a Jerry Lewis Telethon matchup sort of way. (It's one of those blues traditions, teaming old and young -- witness B.B. King's "Deuces Wild" or, some years ago, Johnny Winter with Muddy Waters.)
The middle section of the album is all Chicago, with some deep memories of the South thrown in (like "Saturday Night Fish Fry"), working up to a cover of "I Just Want to Make Love to You," on which Guy changes the tempo to put some polish on the well-known tune, one almost synonymous with Chicago blues. So far, aside from that funky opener, it's been pretty standard, enjoyable stuff, on a par with Guy's previous, always carefully laid out productions. But as in his live shows, surprise awaits at every tune.
"Did Someone Make a Fool Out of You" is emotional, no shock there, and...acoustic! This is honest, pained restraint; it's nice to hear Guy's always-underrated vocal talent given a moment to shine, as it does on this song; with all the effusive praise given his guitar playing, not enough can be said about his voice. There is as much heartbreak and sorrow and joy and wisdom there, in one chorus, as in a thousand guitar solos.
At the end, we're let down easy, and warmly -- "Let Me Show You" is a nice New Orleans love song, accented with piano trills and loping bass. It's like a graceful last dance at the end of a heady evening, when you make all the right moves fully aware that the woman you're holding in your arms is THE ONE. Man, this is heavy love.
