REVIEW: R.L. Burnside, Come On In / Robert Cage, Can See
What You're Doing
(Fat Possum Records)
- Rob Hillard
Out in the rolling hill country region of northern Mississippi, there ain't a whole lot to sing about. The days are hot, the roads are dusty, and the economic conditions are as mean and nasty as a junkyard dog.
Fortunately, the blues are alive and well in this lonely and forsaken place. But you might never know it if it weren't for the brave souls at Fat Possum Records. Based in the tiny metropolis of Oxford, this fiercely independent group of modern-day archivists is working hard to expose the next generation of Mississippi's trailblazing blues bogeymen. Yet the core of their talent includes many of the last living disciples of vintage Delta blues, made famous in this region by legendary characters like Son House, Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Willie Dixon, and Elmore James.
At the top of the Fat Possum roster is a stubborn, ol' whiskey swillin', wide-grinnin' son-of-a-bitch named R.L. Burnside, whose stripped-down, electrified guitar blues is as wicked and intense as a New Years Day hangover. My first exposure to Burnside was at the 1996 Johnstown Folk Fest, where he shared a bill with his friend and labelmate, the late, great Junior Kimbrough. Backed by the Kenny Brown Blues Band, Burnside rambled onto the stage about three or four songs into the set carrying a shabby looking electric guitar that looked like it might have been pulled out of a dumpster. He then proceeded to display his raw wizardry, unleashing some of the most hypnotic and high-voltage backwoods blues I'd ever heard. Stretching and scratching the strings as often as he stroked them, Burnside spewed forth an hour-long, alcohol-fueled set of howling, stomping, straight-ahead mojo madness. Above the swirling din of spontaneous guitar licks came the sound of Burnside's growling, caterwauling vocals - rough, rootsy, and seething with passion. The entranced crowd responded in style, partaking in the most down and dirty, reptilian dancing ever witnessed in this conservative, blue-collar town.
With three recording projects already under his belt, including a 1996 session with the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion that yielded the critically acclaimed A Ass Pocket of Whiskey, Burnside is always looking for a fresh new sound. Never one to pay much homage to maintaining tradition, Burnside's latest Fat Possum release, Come On In, may be his most daring adventure yet. On this fascinating collection of experimental remixes of new and previously recorded tracks, famed Beck producer Tim Rothrock makes use of ambient sounds, drum loops, and sampling to add yet another dizzying dimension to Burnside's trance-inducing southern boogie. The result is sonically intense, yet still surprisingly primitive.
Moving from the hell-bent fury of "Let My Baby Ride" to the spooky technofried blues of "Shuck Dub," the album manages to capture the spirit of a modern-day dance hall without diminishing the spark of Burnside's fiery juke joint blues. Compare the untouched live version of the title track to the two remixed versions that are scattered throughout the album's twelve tracks and you will see what I mean. Other memorable genre-bending moments include the urban hip-hop rhythm romp "Don't Stop Honey," which features Burnside's grandson Cedric on drums, and "Rollin' Tumblin," a driving swamp-stomp rocker that is sure to tickle the toes of even the baddest technophobe.
Burnside is currently on the road, reluctant as he may be to leave his modest home in Holly Springs, Mississippi. Opening a majority of the shows is another veteran Fat Possum bluesman, Robert Cage, whose lean and mean pre-war blues hits you like a musty blast of air from a long-shuttered root cellar. Once you get acclimated to his vintage grunting sound, it's very cool. This trademark vocal style is a rough and tumble tradition that Cage picked up from his long-time mentor, a Woodville, Mississippi blues legend named Scott Dunbar.
After nearly four decades playing electric blues, Cage returns to his roots on his first recording for Fat Possum, Can See What You're Doing. While the disc contains two potent, electrified numbers, including the opening butt-thumper "Get Outta Here" and the searing "Instrumental #5," most of the remaining tracks follow the old-school acoustic country blues theme. Listening to Cage "doo doo doo" his way through "Little Eddie Blues," you almost get the feeling you're sitting out on his backporch sipping on a cool can of Colt 45, watching the sun settle down over the old Rosemont plantation. Cage grunts his way through "How Do You Get Your Rolling Done," a wailing tune that evokes the spirit of Mississippi Fred McDowell. Other highlights include an unrestrained take on the traditional "Liza Jane" and spirited renditions of Leadbelly's "Easy Rider" and "Goodnight Irene."
A few select dates on the Burnside-Cage tour will also feature the monkey-pawed, caffeinated slide-guitar and kitchen sink percussion of Bob Log III, a self-proclaimed rock'n'roll rebel who regularly performs wearing a motorcycle helmet. While the helmet adds an air of mystery to Log's already puzzling persona, it has an even greater effect on his vocal style. Yep, that's right. He actually sings through the helmet, using cheap telephone microphones to create a bizarre lo-fi sound that is nearly as intriguing as his self-generated psychedelic blues rave-ups. Never mind that you can barely understand a damn thing Log is singing. Vocals definitely take a back seat to the lightning-speed slide guitar riffs and funky junkyard rhythms in this unique one-man-band.
One half of the Tucson-based post-punk blues outfit Doo Rag, Log has long experimented with primal beats and unorthodox guitar effects. On his Fat Possum solo debut, School Bus, Log hammers out a series of short, percussive romps that range from supercharged breakdowns like "String on a Stick" and "Big Ass Hard On" to the loping blues shuffle of "Fire in the Hole" and "Land of a Thousand Swirling Asses." The mojo really gets working on a funky little ditty called "All the Rockets Go Bang," a rowdy call and response number that must surely be a highlight of the live Log experience. "Pig Tail Swing," a wickedly paced slice of slide thrash that clocks in at just under two minutes, conjures up depraved images of Log chasing hogs around at an all-night Midwestern barn dance. While the abbreviated length of these tunes creates an appearance that they may have been tailored for commercial radio, it's far more likely that Log is merely suffering from some sort of severe attention deficit disorder.
For further information on these artists or Fat Possum records, you check out the web site at http://www.fatpossum.com
