When exploring the formidable list of Chicago’s blues divas, Deitra Farr’s name is always front and center. Versatile and energetic, her smooth and controlled voice tackles a range of genres from soul to gospel but it always remains grounded in the blues. Growing up on the South Side, it was clear that Farr was headed for a life on stage. Her youth was filled with exceptional situations that kept thrusting her into the spotlight.

“When I was 7, I went to see my uncle perform. There was a female lead singer and I told them, ‘When you get tired of her, give me a call,’” Farr recalls of her early start. “Everybody thought I was cute, but when I was 17, the girl quit the band. I was ready. I had my songs, I knew the top-40 hits.” She auditioned for her uncle’s R&B band, Central Power Station, and beat out 11 others for the job. They performed pop hits at local parties, but it was just the first step in her quick ascent up the music business ladder.

By the time she graduated high school, Farr was already set to record her first single. She was studying music at Loop College (now Harold Washington College) with noted music producer James Mack and one of her classmates was looking for a lead singer for his group, Mill Street Depo. Farr snagged the job and recorded a single, “You Won’t Support Me,” with the band on Platinum Records, which was Sylvia Robinson’s (of Sugar Hill Records fame) label. The recording become a Cashbox Top 100 R&B hit in 1976, supplying 18-year-old Farr with a smash record and two professional groups with which she regularly performed. It was all heady stuff for anyone – especially a teen – but she viewed it as simply part of her path. “Because of the way my life has been, I expect the unusual and I do the unusual,” she says. Unusual indeed. When she was growing up in Englewood, her biggest dream was playing the Grand Ballroom on 63rd. She never imagined that she would eventually play in 40 countries. Her next step was obtaining blues-club gigs.

At 22, she was working as a desk clerk at the U Of I and one of her friends dared her to get up and sing with Phil Guy, who was performing at the school. “They didn’t know I could; I got up and sang ‘Steel Away’ and Phil said, ‘You can really sing, you need to play with us.’” Farr played with Guy at the Checkerboard and Theresa’s, meeting Junior Wells and Buddy Guy. “I thought, maybe I can be a blues singer. I liked it. My dad had a big blues collection so it wasn’t foreign to me.” She quickly became absorbed in the scene and was amazed at the wealth of legendary blues people who formed the local scene in the ’80s. She played Kingston Mines, Blue Chicago, and Wise Fools Pub. “I was in awe that I could meet people on blues records,” she says. “These people were my heroes. I met Louis Myers, who was Little Walter’s sideman. People coming on the blues scene now, I feel sorry for them because it’s gone. They can only learn it on records.”

Farr grabbed the opportunity to learn from legendary blues icons and it served her well. She went down to play in Birmingham, Alabama with Howlin’ Wolf drummer Sam Lay in the early ’80s. The band was white except for Farr and Lay, but they played a black club. With Lay in the back on drums and Farr backstage, all the club’s patrons saw were white faces and they walked out. When Farr came out to sing, the club was empty except a lone figure at the bar.

“I went out and decided to do my show and I sang my heart out,” she remembers, “pretending it was a full house. I got off stage and saw somebody sitting at the bar and it’s Eddie Kendricks of The Temptations. This was one of my idols and he was the only one in the audience. The lesson is to do your show because you don’t know who is watching.”

The world is watching Farr now. In the ’90s, she performed as the lead singer of Mississippi Heat, touring and recording two CDs. “They were the brothers I never had,” she says. She left the group to focus on her solo career and produced her first solo outing, The Search Is Over (JSP), in 1997. That album showcased her rich vocals and the smooth blues that has become her trademark. She followed with Let It Go! in 2005, which reflected her soul and gospel influences.

“I’m not strictly blues, I also do soul,” Farr says. “I sing what I feel. I feel blues. I feel soul. That’s the best way I can express myself. I’m not shy about singing jazz. I sing gospel. I’m a music lover. The way I best express me is blues, soul, gospel.” As a songwriter, she stands out as one of the most evocative in contemporary blues. All of her work displays a strong narrative and well-defined emotions.

“I’m inspired by what I hear, what I’m going through, and what I read,” she says of her process. “Sometimes the music gets to me first. I’ll hear chords in my head. I write all of my music in my head. I go through periods where I don’t write anything because I just wasn’t inspired. You can’t force creativity. It’s either there or not there.”

Always multi-faceted in terms of creativity, Farr is currently working on her memoirs, two movies, as well as her monthly “Artist To Artist” column in Living Blues. She kicks off a South American tour this summer, so catch her while you can.

Apparing: 2/2 at Buddy Guy’s Legends (700 S. Wabash) in Chicago.

Harp master Sugar Blue will make beautiful music at his blues wedding on February 16th at Rosa’s, 3420 W. Armitage. The event will start at 9 p.m. with the band playing, including groom Sugar Blue and bride Ilaria.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

Hubert Sumlin was one of the greatest blues guitarists of his generation. Famous for the explosive guitar riffs that he produced as a member of Howlin’ Wolf’s band, Sumlin influenced such rock-guitar gods as Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, and Keith Richards. His 80-year journey began in the Mississippi Delta and took him across the world to leave his impression on scores of blues fans until his death on December 4th.

A self-taught guitarist with a natural gift for rugged tones that evoked great emotion, Sumlin gravitated toward his instrument as a child growing up in Arkansas and never broke from its orbit. He played with James Cotton at local functions while a teen, and grabbed his first peek at mentor Wolf by climbing on top of a stack of boxes under a juke-joint window. The boxes tumbled and Sumlin ended up falling onto Wolf’s head. It was a telling meeting for two musicians who would help define the Chicago blues sound.

By the early ’50s, Wolf sent for Sumlin to join him in Chicago, where he was recording for Chess Records. Wolf’s sprawling and outsized vocals quickly captured attention, but it was Sumlin’s stinging guitar that sealed the deal on classics like “Smokestack Lightning,” “Backdoor Man,” “Red Rooster,” and “Goin’ Down Slow.” He played with Wolf for 20 years, interrupted only by a brief stint with Muddy Waters and finally by Wolf’s death in 1976. Sumlin left Chicago shortly afterward, eventually settling in New Jersey where he crafted a solo career that included expansive touring and recording. His albums garnered four Grammy nominations, most notably 2005’s masterful About Them Shoes (Tone-Cool), which attracted acolytes such as Richards and Clapton as sidemen. Sumlin was a musician’s musician who earned never-ending respect from his peers. He never gained the fame of Wolf or Waters, but when he passed away from heart failure, the music community immediately poured out accolades. Mick Jagger and Richards rushed to pay for his funeral in Homewood, as a way of giving back to the man who had given so much of his life to spreading the love of the blues.

Big James & The Chicago Playboys expand on the Chicago blues tradition with their free-wheeling recent release, The Big Payback (Blind Pig). If that title calls to mind James Brown’s seminal record, that’s exactly the point. There’s a cover of the seminal tune on the 10-track CD, but the title also alludes to the horn-driven, funky blues that fills the album, which owes a lot to the Godfather Of Soul. Recorded live at the Lionel Hampton Jazz Club in Paris, the exuberance spills out of every note.

Opening with the energetic party anthem, “The Blues Will Never Die,” the tune showcases the band’s upbeat style with brass decorating every beat and personal lyrics like, “Sometimes people look at me with scorn/but I don’t care/I was born to play the horn.” On another original, “Coldest Man I Ever Knew,” the band offers straight-ahead blues and a killer guitar solo at the end. The title cover track isn’t as successful, with a perfunctory reading and an uninspired arrangement. But the irresistible groove is still there, which is the only thing that saves it. Magic Sam seems to inspire the group in terms of soulful covers; “All Your Love” delivers all the verve and grit required of the legend’s classic, and “That’s Why I’m Crying” calls up some pure blues with broken-hearted and anguished vocals by frontman Big James Montgomery and an evocative guitar solo by Mike “Money” Wheeler.

BJCP deliberately mine all the branches of the blues, touching on soul, funk, and rock and it’s nice to hear these connections firmly couched in the blues tradition. The Johnny Taylor hit, “Jody’s Got Your Girl And Gone,” sounds just as infectious as the soul blues original and an interesting cover choice of George Clinton’s “I’ll Stay” simmers with haunting funk rhythms. Montgomery ties it all neatly together with his take on the classic Chicago sound, “Low Down Dirty Blues.” The album closes with the rather gratuitous “Smoke On The Water,” adding a bluesy, horn-driven feel to the rock staple.

For those who believe that the blues has been lost or is weighed down with outmoded traditions and sensibilities, I have three words for you: Joe Louis Walker. Always a stellar performer and musician, his decades of skill and passion have been hammered into one tightly crafted, explosive package that should be called The Truth. Hellfire (Alligator) inaugurates the blues new year with a near-perfect collection of riveting blues. The 11-track CD was recorded in Nashville and there’s a country undercurrent that runs throughout, underscoring the clear but often overlooked connection between country and blues. But this is no gimmicky crossover ploy – everything on the album sounds organic and honest.

The battle between salvation and damnation is the theme of Hellfire and, although it’s a well-worn blues topic, JLW supplies the personal history of the journeyman who has moved between both the secular and the gospel world. From the searing title track that opens the set, it’s clear that Walker is on top of his game. His phrasing is crisp yet powerful, his guitar precise yet transcendent. That’s just the first song.

Most that follow, from the moving “I Won’t Do That” to the rollicking “I’m On To You,” provide the same perfection. “Soldier For Jesus” is more country-tinged gospel than blues and the backing by the legendary Jordanaires just makes the tune sound more of a throwback, but JLW’s conviction is palpable. The honky-tonk groove of “Too Drunk To Drive Drunk” offers a fun riff, and “Black Girls” provides the slyest humor yet: “The blues I’ve been hearing lately/sounds a lot like rock ‘n’ roll/and I wondered what happened to all that soul/you got to have the black girls/to put the soul back in your songs.” If fresh, innovative music like this is what we have to look forward to, it will be a good year, indeed.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

Texas-born Chicago-based vocalist Sharon Lewis has been a fixture on the blues scene since the ’90s, playing with everybody from Dave Specter to Harmonica Hinds. But her Delmark debut, The Real Deal (Delmark), brings together all that experience in one multi-layered package. Backed by her hard-driving band Texas Fire, Lewis manages to craft a well-rounded, contemporary blues album without relying too heavily on tired imagery or uninspired covers.

The 13-track set boasts eight originals penned by Lewis that help lend a fresh feel, but there’s a lot of other interesting things offered on The Real Deal. The first is Lewis’ varied delivery. Unlike the one-note belting that often passes for blues singing, Lewis leavens her vocals from gentle crooning, to midtempo intonations, and big-voice singing so that listeners truly gain a musical adventure.

An uptempo ode to the current economic challenges, “What’s Really Going On” sets the tone for a lively journey. The title track brims with authority and a simmering groove, declaring her position as an authentic blues musician, despite outdated expectations. By the middle, everything heats up with the sublime party tune, “Blues Train.” Made even hotter with master harpist Billy Branch blowing away and name checking Rosa’s, Kingston Mines, and Buddy Guy’s as stops, the song could become the new signature Chicago anthem. (All it needs is a few South Side references, namely Artis’s and Lee’s Unleaded.)

“Mojo Kings” supplies rollicking rhythms and more energetic blasts from Branch, and “Silver Fox” supplies a jazzy ballad underscored by Specter’s elegant guitar work and memorable lyrics like, “Just because I’m old school/please don’t think I’m a fool.” Probably the most surprising cut is a cover of Bill Withers’ classic “Ain’t No Sunshine,” which she spices with a reggae rhythm complete with dub ending. Closing with the autobiographical ballad “Angel,” which throbs with emotion and triumph, The Real Deal qualifies as one of the best blues albums of the year.

Guitar fans should top their holiday wish list with Toronzo Cannon’s tight collection of guitar-driven blues, Leaving Mood (Delmark). Another Windy City mainstay, Cannon has racked up acclaim as a high-energy performer and that quality bursts out of the 14-track album. A tasty blend of blues underscored with rock and funk pours out, thanks to his hard-hitting band, Cannonball Express. Filled with originals and skilled musicianship, this CD firmly demonstrates that modern blues doesn’t have to be predictable.

Schooled on a hardy foundation of legends including Elmore James, Buddy Guy, and Hound Dog Taylor, and tempered with Bob Marley and Jimi Hendrix, Cannon plays the blues like it should be played – with an urgency that speaks to its contemporary relevance. The opener, “She Loved Me,” is fast-paced and frantic, and an intriguing tale of a murdering lover. “Chico’s Song” displays a heartfelt yet still rockin’ tribute to late guitarist Chico Banks, with guest harpist Matthew Skoller wringing out the underlying melancholy. On “Come On,” the contagious rhythm swirled with stinging guitar riffs makes for an unforgettable paean to longing and heartsickness.

Perhaps the most singular song on the album, “Open Letter (To Whom It May Concern)” tackles the omnipresent issue of back-biting in the Chicago blues community. Rarely addressed in music or in discussions, Cannon approaches it with distorted vocals meant to mimic a soapbox speech and cutting lyrics: “Crabs in a barrel/killing the blues/Pull me down/and we’re all going to lose/Undercut your number/just to get ahead/Play the same three clubs until the day you’re dead.” Adorned with nasty guitar riffs and Skoller’s harp blasts, “Open Letter” is a hallmark in effective blues songwriting.

With an album full of originals, the selection of a cover tune needs to be carefully chosen, and Cannon reveals his innovation again by taking on Nina Simone with a sensuous blues take on “Do I Move You?” Leaving Mood demonstrates clearly that the blues is alive and progressing with the times.

Although progression and change is important, the blues can never move away from its roots and nobody represents those better than Alberta Hunter. Born in Memphis in 1895, she played a vanguard role in the ’20s and went on to play with Louis Armstrong and perform for the troops in both world wars. She continued to uphold the blues mantle until her death in 1984 at 89. Downhearted Blues: Live At The Cookery (Rockbeat) was one of Hunter’s final recordings, preserving her six-week run at the Greenwich Village cabaret. The 18-track album is a trove, from the Hunter-penned title track made popular by Bessie Smith, to the saucy “Two-Fisted Double-Jointed Rough And Ready Man.” Her commanding vocals still send chills, this is an album that’s required listening for any blues fan.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

The ngoni, the kora, and the balafon may not sound like familiar instruments to most Americans, but for blues fans, these ancient African musical instruments hold the keys to the rhythms and traditions that developed into what we love. In the enlightening new book, From Timbuktu To The Mississippi Delta (Cognella) by Paschal Bokar Thiam Ed.D, the landscape of the blues is unraveled, starting with ancient African empires along the Niger River and journeying to the banks of the Mississippi.

“The tonalities of the blues is found all over West Africa,” says Thiam. “The elements and architecture that makes blues music possible is in West Africa. The funny tones that Europeans called blue notes, the syncopation, the vocal expression of instruments – that all came out of Africa.” The twisted path that follows the singular musical culture of West Africa to the shores of the U.S. where it is transformed into game-changing hybrids like jazz, gospel, and blues, offers a fascinating glimpse into African and American history and culture. Thiam, a noted jazz musician and professor of French and Senegalese heritage, uses the book to explain the complex connections between the two cultures with engaging detail.

In the introduction, Thiam explains that as a foreigner, he was always puzzled by how the dance moves and musical expressions of America closely mirrored West African aesthetics rather than the European sensibilities that would match the heritage of the majority of this country’s population. Examining the history of what he calls “cultural amnesia,” he states that he wrote the book to “look at the West African musical contributions and standards of aesthetics that have formed the music and the culture of the Mississippi Delta, in an effort to bridge this cultural and academic gap born out of a culture of indifference promulgated by former colonial institutions, out of respect for the unimaginable suffering, and in memory of the millions of West Africans taken from their native lands for a period approroximating 350 years, and whose children paradoxically and intuitively created in the United States, drawing from the depths of their collective souls, the rhythmic, melodic, and harmonic foundations of the musical traditions of the Mande, as expressed through the sonic landscape of the field hollers and work songs, the gospel and the delta blues, America’s only indigenous art form, jazz.”

At 155 pages with plenty of photos and illustrations, From Timbuktu To The Mississippi Delta supplies an engaging read. Opening with a chapter that explains the culture of West Africa and continuing with sections on medieval West African empires, African cultural concepts, and the “Rhythmic Intuitive Creativity” of the blues, the book demonstrates exactly how the essence of the blues and all of its related genres were nurtured in West Africa and then developed in the U.S.

The ancient African empires of Ghana, Mali, and Songhai were the cultural, academic, and social foundations for much of the artistic expression that would later develop in the New World. Spanning from 650 through the 17th century, these sprawling civilizations boasted powerful cultural influence that developed the standards of aesthetics that would travel with the West African populations who were transported to North America during the Atlantic Slave Trade.

“The city of Timbuktu [in Mali] is the center in common for all of the empires,” says Thiam. “The music of the king of Mali was sung everywhere. Western scholars don’t know what to call it; they call it blue notes. The link is between the Mississippi Delta, where thousands of West Africans were transported during the slave trade, and Timbuktu, which is the only place that people would hear these musicians play those notes.”

Those blue notes were played by djalis, intricately trained musicians and oral historians who performed with ngonis, a lute-like instrument; balafons, which are similar to xylophones; and koras, or African harp. The repertoire of the djalis in 11th-century West Africa consisted of melodies, fixed tonalities, and vocal expressions that bore an eerie resemblance to American blues.

“If you want to hear something close to the blues, you go to West Africa and then you will understand where John Lee Hooker comes from,” says Thiam. Indeed, his book draws such a clear line between West African cultural expression and American blues that it seems silly that there has ever been any question about how the genre was formed. It’s widely acknowledged that the music grew out of the suffering of African-Americans toiling in the South, but rarely does any research go beyond that. Thiam underscores the heritage of the blues both culturally and historically.

“Blues is an extension of an expression of West African elements. Albert King’s ancestors aren’t from Indianola, Mississippi, they are from Africa and they gave him his abilities,” he says. In terms of the battle within contemporary blues for acknowledgment and visibility of African-American blues musicians, Thiam belives that the battle has already been won. “Music is an expression of cultural power. When people play the music that you make and when they shake the way that you shake, you’ve won.”

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

The last two months have packed powerful blows to the blues community, with the passing of David “Honeyboy” Edwards and Willie “Big Eyes” Smith. Both enjoyed significant careers that helped preserve the soaring legacy of the Delta blues. As elder statesmen who represented crucial decades of living blues history, they will both be sorely missed.

Edwards was a wonderfully illuminating spirit and the last living link to the first generation of Mississippi Delta blues musicians. There was so much skill and wisdom that flowed through his 96-year-old frame that his playing seemed divinely guided. He was noted for being the last connection to Robert Johnson. Honeyboy reportedly witnessed Johnson sip his last drop of poisoned whiskey, but he symbolized much more than that historic affiliation.

Born in Shaw, Mississippi on June 28th, 1915 to a talented guitarist and violinist for a father who worked as a sharecropper in Misissippi’s brutal system of subsistence farming. (His grandfather had been enslaved on the very land that they worked.) Edwards started playing guitar at 12 and by 14, he had left home to travel and perform with Big Joe Williams. His nuanced guitar playing was recorded by the Library Of Congress in 1942 and shortly after, he joined the Great Migration north and journeyed to Chicago. He played on Maxwell Street and street corners, in small clubs, and for the seminal Chess Records.

Besides his fretwork, Edwards’ shows were significant because of the evocative, biographical stories he told between songs. His astonishing memory would supply the finest details of his experiences riding the rails across the South and playing with notables like Sonny Boy Williamson, Son House, Sunnyland Slim, B.B. King, Charlie Patton and, of course, Johnson. His recollections became the basis for his landmark memoir, The World Don’t Owe Me Nothing: The Life And Times Of Delta Bluesman Honeyboy Edwards in 1997. A vivid mix of music history and cultural documentation, the book explores events like the Mississippi River Flood of 1927, the vicious reality of plantation life, lynchings, arbitrary vagrancy laws aimed at black men and the makeshift courts set up to put them in prison – all conditions that inspired the blues in its purest form. But Edwards never had any use for pity or blame; his story is told with honesty and appreciation for his singular life.

My favorite Edwards quote frankly sums up his opinion about the visibility of blues in contemporary society: “The blues ain’t never going anywhere. It can get slow, but it ain’t going nowhere. You play a low-down dirty shame slow and lonesome, my mama dead, my papa across the sea, I ain’t dead but I’m just supposed to be the blues. You can take that same blues, make it uptempo, a shuffle blues, that’s what rock ‘n’ roll did with it. So blues ain’t going nowhere.”

Sugar Blue, the noted blues harpist, composed a tribute to his legacy: “In observance of the death of Honeyboy Edwards, one of the last of the great Delta Bluesmen, I am reminded of the incredibly bountiful legacy that our fathers have left us, of the trials that they endured and the assault on their legacy by those that would steal the cultural heritage of our people. The blues witnessed the slave quarters where we knew the lash, in the shacks of tenant farmers who knew the backlash. Working from sun to sun, ’sharecropping’ for slave wages or no wages, in a Jim Crow system that denied the equality promised by emancipation . . .

“Music made for the people by the people and full of laughter, love, loss and pain of Life’s day to day struggle to survive. This is part of my heritage in which I have great pride. Paid for in the blood, the whips, guns, knives, chains, and branding irons ripped from the bodies of my ancestors as they fought to survive the daily tyrannies in the land of the free, where some men were at liberty to murder, rape and lay claim to all and any they desired.

“From this crucible the blues was born, screaming to the heavens that I will be free! I will be me! You cannot and will not take this music, this tradition, this bequest without a struggle as fierce and bloody as the one that brought us in chains of iron beneath the putrid decks of wooden ships to toil in pain but not in vain!

“That is Blues Power.”

A tribute to Honeyboy Edwards will be hosted by Buddy Guy’s Legends on October 19th.

Willie “Big Eyes” Smith helped perfect the seminal Chicago blues sound. His traditional blues shuffle provided the foundation for many classic Chicago blues tunes and his drumming can be heard behind such notables as Muddy Waters, James Cotton, Bo Diddley, and Buddy Guy. At 75, he managed to create a second act as a blues harpist, which was his first instrument. Last year, it was his harp playing that snagged his and Pinetop Perkins’ Joined At The Hip a Grammy for Best Traditional Blues Album.

“He was one of the last living links to the golden era of the Chicago blues,” says Chicago blues harp master Billy Branch. “He was known as a great Chicago blues drummer but he reinvented himself as a harp player and won a Grammy! It was like a fairytale ending and I had the utmost respect for him.”

Smith was born in Helena, Arkansas in 1936. At 17, he visited his mother in Chicago and she took him to see Muddy Waters, which changed the direction of his life. He took up the blues harmonica playing with a trio until he switched to the drums after he began sitting in on Waters recording sessions in the late ’50s and in the band on and off from 1961 until ‘80. He co-founded the Legendary Blues Band with Pinetop Perkins, Louis Meyers, Calvin Jones, and Jerry Portnoy soon after. Launching the second part of his career as a harpist, he and the band toured with The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, and Eric Clapton and backed up John Lee Hooker in Blues Brothers. Smith was noted for his signature mix of soulful Delta rhythms layered with the Chicago blues.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

Nobody expected a brief Alligator Records tribute to become a catalyst for examining blues-industry race relations. When the Chicago Reader ran a profile of founder Bruce Iglauer commemorating the 40th anniversary of the label, buried within the May 19th piece was a quote that inflamed the blues community:

“If I’m criticized, and I assume I am, for not signing more African-American artists, the answer is: show me an African-American artist who has got a vision for where to carry some blues into the future, who is an efficient bandleader, who has their act together businesswise enough so that I can work with them, who doesn’t have a significant drug or alcohol issue, and who has live charisma, and I will take that artist real seriously.”

Many took the quote as an implication that Iglauer can’t find any worthy African-American artists. The attendant comments have been scathing, most notably a rebuttal written and supported by musicians and blues advocates from around the world:

“Show us a record label that has at its helm, an individual who has the capacity to recognize the dedication and contributions of the numerous African-American artists who have aptly demonstrated their ability to continue the blues tradition for more than three decades, in spite of being paid substandard wages and being ignored by organizations that purport to honor and ‘award’ the so-called top artists in their respective fields. Show us a record label that recognizes that as bandleaders, numerous African-American blues musicians have had sufficient business sense to continue to maintain active international touring schedules, and enough charisma to attract an ever-expanding diverse audience. Show us a record label that recognizes African-American blues musicians’ ability to carry the blues into the future as demonstrated by their successful musical collaborations with hip-hop and rap artists as well as with world-music giants from Africa, Asia, Europe, and South America. And finally, show us a record label that is not so insensitive to suggest that most African-American blues musicians have a significant drug or alcohol problem, and we will consider allowing the label to record our music.”

The statement was signed by 40 prominent members of the Chicago blues community and posted on August 19. Iglauer charged back with his own statement posted on August 23rd:

“I have received some strong criticism about an interview quote from the May 19th Alligator Records story in the Reader. My words, as they have been construed, do not reflect either my beliefs or the history of my label. They have been taken out of context, and therefore they have been misunderstood and misinterpreted.

“This is the context – my quoted comment was in response to a question about Alligator’s recent signings of certain non-traditional, blues-influenced white artists like JJ Grey and Anders Osborne, rather than signing black soul-blues artists. The interviewer, who is a nationally known blues writer, of course knows my 40-year commitment to signing black artists and promoting their careers. That was clearly understood between us. I didn’t think it needed to be stated. I was asked a question specifically about what I was looking for in African-American artists I might sign, and I answered that specific question. Of course my answer applies to all artists that I would consider for Alligator. But that’s not what I was asked.

“Apparently it sounded to some people like I was suggesting that I have different standards for African-American artists than for other artists. In fact, as the entire history of the label shows, it is my preference to sign African-American artists. Blues, no matter who performs it, is ultimately and historically a creation of Black Americans. Alligator’s legacy is proudly a legacy of recording primarily African-American artists – over 160 albums by African-American artists and about half that many by Caucasian artists.

“Of course, I don’t want any artists who don’t behave professionally or lack charisma or aren’t good bandleaders or have substance abuse issues. That is what I meant and could have said more clearly. But I absolutely did not say (or ’suggest,’ as my critics state) that Black artists were less professional, less charismatic, less good band leaders or more prone to substance abuse. Some people (who apparently don’t know the history of Alligator Records and the artists I have chosen for the label) took it that way. I’m sorry if they were offended by my choice of words.

“To accuse me of ‘racial insensitivity,’ based on a few poorly expressed words in one interview, is simply ridiculous, and I am deeply angered and saddened by it. For 40 years, Alligator Records has publicly and privately championed black blues artists. Alligator has set the standard for labels for ethical, fair, professional and businesslike artist-label relations, honoring both the letter and spirit of its contracts with all the musicians we’ve signed.

“In addition, through the Blues Community Foundation, which I founded and endowed in 1994, I have assisted blues musicians and their families in times of personal crisis. This includes helping with costs of health care, rent, and, sadly, funerals. Many of these musicians had no relationship with Alligator, and some I never even met. I have done this quietly, without publicizing it, to support and help the people who create the music I love.

“If my decades of actions on behalf of the blues and its creators don’t speak loud and clear, then some people are choosing not to listen.

“I regret that only five musicians have had the courtesy to reach out and communicate with me about this interview and ask for clarification. Those who wrote the ‘petition’ that is being circulated were not among them. They have finally just responded to repeated outreach from me, more than a month after making this a public issue, and before directly contacting me to ask for any explanation or to engage in any dialogue.

“The blues is a music that reaches a tiny percentage of listeners in the U.S. and worldwide, in spite of its enormous influences on all other American music. The last thing we who love the blues need to be doing is to be attacking one another. I regret that a few misunderstood words have stirred such controversy in the community of blues lovers. Only by uniting and working together can we bring this wonderful musical tradition to a larger audience and assure its healthy future.”

However, Iglauer’s statement has done little to diffuse the situation. Many artists point to decades of marginalized and outright racism within the blues industry. Iglauer’s statements have only ignited resentments that have been simmering for a long time. Iglauer chose not to answer any specific questions concerning these charges, but many who signed the rebuttal and have commented on the story believe that an open dialogue about racism in the blues industry is a necessity.

“Bruce is missing the point. People’s anger and hurt aren’t directed at him. We all realize this is endemic to the industry,” says Billy Branch, Grammy-nominated master harp player and the first person to sign the rebuttal. “We are aware of the changing face of the blues. There is a sense among most of the black blues musicians today that they are being marginalized and left out of the big picture. That [Iglauer's] statement seems to validate that sense. Nobody is arguing his historical track record or the good things he’s done; we are taking issue with the audacity of that one remark.”

Others believe that the recent trend of staging all-white blues festivals and ignoring African-American artists for blues award nominations reflects a disturbing path for the industry in which Iglauer plays a major role.

“What this whole issue is about is what’s happened to blues in the last decade,” says Janice Monti, professor and director of the Blues & The Spirit Symposium at Dominican University. “The labels, club owners, and promoters have appropriated the blues to make a little more money and their audience is not particularly educated about the blues. African-American musicians have been having a difficult time and the Iglauer comment just set it off. His comment was not a misstatement; he was clear about what he said. Over the last decade or so, he hardly ever signs black musicians anymore. When you look at blues festivals, clubs, and labels, you see fewer and fewer African-American musicians. So many African-American musicians tell curdling stories about knowing a promoter in a club and being ignored out in public. The legacy of the blues has been appropriated and for those in the industry who call themselves leaders and turn their back on that legacy. It’s unconscionable.”

The legacy of the blues, which stretches back centuries and underscores the foundation of all popular American music forms, remains the crucial issue. Although Iglauer has acknowledged blues as an African-American creation, his actions, as well as others’ in the industry, don’t seem to honor that fact. Is blues still blues when it’s cut off from the core of African-American culture? Most who signed the rebuttal don’t think so. That’s the core of the outrage.

“He doesn’t have the right to imply that there are no African Americans in the blues community who have the characteristics he finds worthy,” says Dietra Farr, a noted blues vocalist with a career that spans 36 years. “I’m a college graduate, I write for Living Blues magazine, I don’t drink or smoke, I write my own music. I’m not a screw up. I’ve worked in 46 countries and I’m not unusual. There’s a lot of people like me. You don’t have to record anybody, it’s your company but don’t act like it’s some rare thing for African Americans to be about something. It’s the 21st century. Some of us can even read and write.” Farr also acknowledges that the controversy underscores a bigger societal issue. “We’ve always needed to have this discussion about racism in the blues,” she says. “You can love the blues and hate black people. It’s a reflection of the society we live in.”

According to renowned, Mississippi-born Chicago writer and blues poet Sterling Plumpp, the historical perspective of the situation can’t be overlooked. “The comment that he [Iglauer] made in light of the historical stereotyping of African Americans in this country is a devastating injustice,” says Plumpp. “The comment indicts stereotypes of all blacks being incapable band leaders, lacking vision, and being drug addicts. It’s patently not true. If you believe that stereotyping is an innocent act, then you should look at the 6 million people who lost their lives in Nazi Germany. It is dehumanizing.”

David Whiteis, respected blues critic and author of the Reader story, believes that the real issue lies within the blues industry. “Bruce is part of a system that has a certain amount of inequality built in. I think the discussion needs to be about that system,” says Whiteis. “Most white labels have ignored the evolution of the blues-soul sound. A lot of independent labels didn’t grow with the music. They have created this aesthetic among white listeners that blues is only a 12-bar sound. We have two separate blues markets [one white and one black]. There’s a lot of myopia going on. Why are these festivals and award shows ignoring African-American artists? A lot of club owners and festival bookers are underestimating their audience.”

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

As one of the most consistent contemporary bluesmen performing today, it’s a surprise to discover that Grammy-winning Keb Mo (a.k.a. Kevin Moore) doesn’t actually consider himself a bluesman.

Appearing: October 6th at House Of Blues in Chicago.

Although his music has always reflected variations of folk, jazz, and soul, his guitar playing and delivery clearly reflect post-modern blues. A noted perfectionist, Mo sees it a little differently. “I’m not really a bluesman. I’m not a real bluesman like Howlin’ Wolf. He was the real deal,” he says. “I didn’t live like Muddy Waters on a Mississippi plantation, picking cotton, and then move to Chicago to play music.” Despite such protests, Mo acknowledges that “the blues is always running through my veins.” His first new studio release in six years, The Reflection (Yollabelle), demonstrates the different ways that the blues influences his life and work.

In many ways, The Reflection represents a significant turning point in Mo’s life and career. Growth and change surround much of what he’s done in the last few years and his sound on the album mirrors that. He’s started a new family, moved to Nashville, and established his own record label. “I’m expecting more of myself now,” he says. “I’m getting older and that’s inspired me. I’m turning 60 this year. When I hit 70, I want to be doing cool shit.”

Judging from the 12 richly layered tracks on his new release, he’s well on his way to accomplishing that goal. The opening track, “Whole Enchilada,” brims with vintage soul and blues undertones. In his trademark emotionally honest and unadorned style, the tune addresses the reality of actually getting the woman of your dreams and the work that comes with maintaining a relationship: “Are you gonna be any better/than the man you had to be to get her/what ya gonna do when you got her/the whole enchilada.” With insightful lyrics and a catchy melody, the song sets the tone for a collection of songs that define life with master storytelling, an important blues hallmark. Of course, there’s also some exceptional slide guitar.

“I had to put a slide guitar solo in there,” says Mo of the lap steel on the midtempo groove “Inside Outside.” Although he calls the album’s blend of his of blues, folk, soul, and jazz influences as Americana, the blues is still very present on most of the tracks. “The blues thing was a big hole in my soul,” he says. “I got down into it and dissected it. What was it about this music that made it so real? That’s an important piece of who I am and I always carry it with me.”

The interesting thing about The Reflection is how Mo interprets the blues in unexpected ways. It’s definitely not a pure blues album, but the overall vibe of the record still retains blues flavor. A highlight is “My Baby’s Tellin’ Lies Again,” a duet with country star Vince Gill. The verses about a mean, twisted woman with “a body built for sin” is pure blues but the sound mixes the country rhythm of Gill’s mandolin and Mo’s blues/soul delivery make for a memorable side.

“Nashville is a great music town,” he says. “We didn’t want to raise our kid in L.A., so we moved and now I’m in a musical community with great musicians. I was embraced by the music community immediately. I’ve performed at the Grand Ole Opry and collaborated with country artists. It’s been a great move for me.”

Another genre-crossing surprise is his cover of the Eagles classic, “One Of These Nights.” He completely changes the melody and gives it a somber, straight-forward approach. There’s also an alto sax solo by Dave Koz that supplies jazz tones that the original clearly lacked. “I was doing MusiCares [a Grammy charity] with Don Henley and he asked me to play with him. He suggested ‘One Of These Nights,’ and I did the arrangements. His wife freaked out and said, ‘My God, that’s how this song should be played.’ It’s sort of my tribute to Barry White – I put a little bedroom in it. On my tour set, it’s a breezier note to balance the other songs out. It keeps it interesting.”

Mo achieves the same balancing act on the 12-track album, arranging mellower tunes with heavier ones. “Crush On You,” a bubbly R&B duet with India.Arie is the most pop-sounding tune on the offering and it follows the earnest midtempo jazz and blues treatment of the title track. Seven minutes long with organ and slide guitar notes, “The Reflection” is a complex cut that’s leavened by the lighthearted song that follows it.

“We Don’t Need It” tells a modern-blues story of a father losing his job and his family coming together and denying themselves the material comforts that they once took for granted. Acoustic and lap-steel guitars underline the melancholy of this ballad. The other contemporary standout is “My Shadow,” a haunting tale of betrayal and loss with elements of jazz. The most personal tune on the album closes it out with a heavy gospel influence. Featuring voices from several generations of his family, “Something Within” ties together themes of self-reflection and relationships.

“I was inspired when my uncle Herman loaned me a tape of my grandfather playing music. He’s singing an old gospel tune, ‘Something Within’ – he passed away in the late ’80s. I played the tape for my son and asked him what he could do with the song. He laid out a groove and chord change and that’s where the song started.” With cousins and friends singing along to the recorded refrain, the result is an almost eerie illustration of the past connecting to the present.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

Chicago’s legendary blues sound continues to evolve and expand with new variations and perspectives, and the most exciting additions are pouring from the offspring of its heroes. The latest take comes from Demetria Taylor, daughter of the late guitarist Eddie Taylor. Although she has devoted years developing her voice singing on her brother Eddie Taylor Jr.’s albums and playing Blues Fest as well as North Side clubs, she has only now released her promising debut, Bad Girl (Delmark).

Filled with savvy re-workings of classics, the 12-track CD illustrates a blues star in the making. The title track, a loving take on her father’s “Bad Boy,” demonstrates a perfect reworking of the West Side aesthetic. Taylor belts with conviction and Billy Branch’s scorching harp work underscores the new-millennium feel. The singer offers uptempo grooves on Taylor Jr.’s “I Can’t Take It No More,” and her authority is unquestionable on “Big Boss Man,” originally recorded by her father’s legendary partner, Jimmy Reed.

She’s less sure-footed tackling Koko Taylor’s iconic “I’m A Woman” and “Voodoo Woman,” which require much more power than her mid-level vocals can muster, but she manages a decent take. The album’s standout, “Cherry Red Wine,” a Luther Allison ballad that Taylor makes her own, shows her delving deep into gut-twisting blues with a convincing delivery that transports listeners into an alcoholic’s descent. Eddie Shaw’s masterful sax blasts accent the tune’s emotional depth. Indeed, the all-star band – featuring Branch, Shaw, Taylor Jr., Roosevelt Purifoy, Greg McDaniel, and Pooky Styx – crackles with so much tight rhythm that the album would work even without Taylor’s well-honed vocals. Bad Girl shows that blues clearly runs in Taylor’s genes, and that she’s poised to represent Chicago’s next generation.

Appearing: Tuesdays and Wednes-days at Blue Chicago (536 N. Clark) in Chicago.

A sticker that warns “contains sexually explicit lyrics” seems rather redundant when it applies to blues. Yet it’s also rare. But if any collection should warrant the distinction, Grana’ Louise’s special Gettin’ Kinda Rough! (Delmark) is it. In a field overrun with gratuitous caricatures, Louise performs in the (rarely seen) commanding and bawdy tradition of great blues women like Bessie Smith and Big Mama Thornton. Penning her own sly originals as well as taking on classics with a twist, Louise stands out on many levels.

Opening up her diverse and well-crafted album with the traditional “Stagger Lee,” Louise rich and assured delivery supplies a contemporary gloss, and her adlib of “somebody call 911″ reveals the engaging personality that seeps through every tune. Lousie offers accomplished covers here like her tongue-in-cheek run through Denise LaSalle’s “Learning How To Cheat On You,” and her funky treatment of Ann Peebles’ “I Can’t Stand The Rain.” But the highlights are the originals. From the bouncy “Lead Foot Mama” to the ribald “Big Dick, M’isipi,” the singer’s wide-reaching talents are on full display. Aside from her clear, high range, Louise displays humorous songwriting talent. On the hilarious “Bang Bang Ba-Bang Bang Bang Bang!,” the chorus teases, “All the neighbors say my my/they think it’s the Fourth Of July/all they hear is bang bang ba-bang bang!”

The CD’s last five tracks were recorded live at Blue Chicago, and they provide a showcase for the singer’s huge stage presence. She manages to claim Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson’s “Back Door Blues” as her own with all the soulful wailing and belting that authentic blues requires. For the finale, she takes on Jimi Hendrix’s version of “Hey Joe” and firmly shines the light on rock’s blues heritage.

Appearing: Mondays at Blue Chicago (536 N. Clark) in Chicago.

Like too many blues artists, Eric Bibb has always garnered more appreciation in Europe than here in the U.S., and his pure, unfettered acoustic style reflects his reverence for tradition as well as an easy European sensibility. His latest, Troubadour Live (Telarc), presents a beautiful collection of storytelling and guitar-playing recorded one winter evening in Sweden. Even for non-blues fans, this album of 13 pristine tracks will captivate with its virtuoso playing and soul-drenched singing. For blues fans, this CD is an essential treasure trove of acoustic work.

The first track, “The Cape,” introduces Bibb’s dynamic folk heritage with an inspirational ode to the value of childlike courage. Afterwards, he’s joined by Swedish guitarist Staffan Astner, whose clean picking provides the perfect accompaniment to Bibb’s acoustic rhythms. “New Home” celebrates the country blues with Bibb’s smooth crooning and playing, while “Walkin’ Blues Again” reaches deep into tradition with riveting vocals and storytelling, and “Tell Riley” literally calls upon B.B. King. The title track vividly conjures all of the imagery of a musician who travels the world: “People ask me what kind of music do you play/I just say/’Want to hear some blues?’/like a freight train running through/gospel/soul and some good ‘ol rock n’ roll/I’m sangin’ what I’m livin/they call me a troubadour.”

That verse serves as an evocative blueprint for the album, because the blues is accented with traces of gospel expertly supplied by the trio Psalm 4; effortless soul delivery that creeps through his ballads; and the searing guitar riffs represent rock well. The only off note is a bonus studio track, “If You Were Not My Woman,” that delivers a one-drop reggae rhythm that might throw listeners. After 12 straight transcendent tracks, it’s a misstep that Bibb can clearly get away with.

BLUES FOR A CAUSE: The Italian American Veterans Museum and Library is hosting a benefit blues concert at Jimmy Figs in Chicago featuring Cheryl and the Dynamics, Geneva Convention, and Triple Shot on July 22nd. All proceeds go directly to the IAVML in Stone Park.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

This year’s Chicago Blues Fest includes Shemekia Copeland, an all-star Robert Johnson centennial salute, and harp master Billy Branch & The Sons Of The Blues. But another Blues Fest must-see kicks off on opening night, after the actual festivities are over.

“I was looking at the Chicago Blues Fest lineup and I noticed that there weren’t very many women featured this year,” says Joan Gand of Gand Music And Sound. “My husband said, ‘Well, why don’t you do something about it?’” So she did. As frontwoman of the blues ensemble Joan Gand And Blue Road, Gand knew scores of blues women so she took to social media. “I got on Facebook to get together a group of blues singers and everyone wanted to do it,” she says. “Within 24 hours, we had nine women and I thought, ‘We have to dedicate this to Koko.’”

“Chicago Women In The Blues” showcases this tribute-based nonet on Friday, June 10th, at Reggie’s Music Joint, 2105 S. State. “There hasn’t really been that much done as a tribute to her, but Koko Taylor was an icon of the Chicago blues all over the world,” says Gand. “We need to appreciate what she did here. There’s few other women blues singers as iconic as Koko.”

With Blue Road as the house band, the performers include Hollee Thee Maxwell, who sang with Ike Turner after Tina left; noted belter Peaches Staten; Vance Kelly’s daughter Vivian Vance Kelly; Eddie Taylor’s daughter Demetria; slide guitarist Donna Herula; local faves Liz Mandeville & Ramblin Rose; Dia Madden And The Cruise Machine; and Taylor’s niece, Ebonie Taylor. The show will kick off with the women taking turns singing “Wang Dang Doodle” and end with a past-tense version. “We’ll probably make it a regular thing and honor Koko every year to make sure her legacy remains in Chicago,” says Gand. Visit www.chicagoblueswomen.info; a Reggie’s shuttle will move between the fest and the club.

Another Blues Fest highlight is the Alligator Records 40th Anniversary Celebration. On closing night, June 12th, Alligator will host a cavalcade of its stars to celebrate the milestone. Blues guitar master Lonnie Brooks will headline, and he’ll be joined throughout the show by roster standouts guitarist Michael “Iron Man” Burks, harpist Rick Estrin, pianist Ann Rabson, and Eddy “The Chief” Clearwater. The show promises to capture some of the excitement of the recent Alligator Records 40th Anniversary Collection released in February. The two-CD album supplies 38 tracks spanning a diverse sampling of the label’s output over the last two decades. Early greats, like Hound Dog Taylor, Son Seals, Koko Taylor, and Carey Bell are presented alongside contemporary artists like Lil Ed & The Blues Imperials, Burks, and Janiva Magness for a true gumbo of blues styles.

Blues Fest does a decent job of making the genre accessible to all kinds of music fans, but you can’t truly appreciate the blues unless you know some of its history. There are tons of books that delve into the complex lore, but the Big Bill Broonzy biography, I Feel So Good: The Life And Times Of Big Bill Broonzy (University Of Chicago Press) by Bob Reisman published this month, probably delivers the most relevant Chicago-blues memoir in recent memory.

A legendary figure who helped shape Chicago blues from the ’30s through the late ’50s, Broonzy had undeniable influence on Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, and countless blues and rock musicians. He was a mythical character whose storytelling prowess extended to his own life, so Reisman dedicated 10 years to uncover the man behind the legend and his findings prove especially illuminating.

Opening with a pivotal scene of Broonzy’s 1958 funeral, whose guests included Mahalia Jackson, Studs Terkel, Waters, Sunnyland Slim, Little Walter, and Tampa Red, Reisman sets the tone for a biography that uses a strong narrative as well as facts. The first significant fact is that Broonzy’s name was not Broonzy or even William. Reisman uncovers family records that reveal the bluesman’s original name (Lee Conley Bradley), revealing Broonzy also created a family history that served to enrich his songs’ tales of poverty, injustice, and hope in the turn-of-the-century South.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

May 8th marks an extremely significant event in blues history. The date commemorates the 100th birthday of Robert Johnson, King Of The Delta Blues and Father Of Modern Rock. Although he lived a brief life and recorded only 29 songs, his legacy stretches way beyond his era and genre. Indeed, it was Johnson who penned the iconic “Sweet Home Chicago” that rings through every blues joint around the world and decorates this column. Fortunately, blues fans have a little more than his popular legend and limited discography to commemorate the occasion. The Complete Original Masters: Centennial Edition (Columbia/Legacy) supplies four CDs and one DVD to fill any possible holes or missing links in the Johnson story.

With a spotty personal history and an itinerant life that ended at 27, Johnson only really became visible to general music fans in 1990, when Columbia released The Complete Recordings. This definitive collection became a music sensation and pushed Johnson into the awareness of a broader audience than he had ever enjoyed during his life. It also made the portrait of a dandified Johnson posing with his guitar, one of only two known photos of the musician, famously recognizable by even non-blues fans. The Centennial Edition expands on the previous collection and offers the ultimate overview of the blues master’s influential career. (This year’s Blues Fest will be largely devoted to his birthday celebrations.)

To say this box set is expansive is an understatement. It includes a double CD with masters of the original 29 Johnson songs with alternate takes; a CD of rarely collected blues singles from 1928-32 featuring artists like Sleepy John Estes, Memphis Minnie, and Blind Willie McTell; another showcasing 10 tracks recorded by artists who shared the San Antonio and Dallas sessions with Johnson, covering folk, hillbilly, Mexican, and Texas swing genres; the DVD documentary ThTo say this box set is expansive is an understatement. It includes a double CD with masters of the original 29 Johnson songs with alternate takes; a CD of rarely collected blues singles from 1928-32 featuring artists like Sleepy John Estes, Memphis Minnie, and Blind Willie McTell; another showcasing 10 tracks recorded by artists who shared the San Antonio and Dallas sessions with Johnson, covering folk, hillbilly, Mexican, and Texas swing genres; the DVD documentary The Life & Music Of Robert Johnson: Can’t You Hear The Wind Howl?; as well as essays, a new biography, historic track annotation, photos, and a musical family tree.

It may sound like a whole lot of unrelated extras, but all the parts come together to create the most nuanced illustration of Johnson’s music and legacy. For seasoned fans, the inclusion of the San Antonio and Dallas sessions — where Johnson laid down his only recordings — may sound like old news, but it’s not. First of all, I don’t care how many times you’ve heard Johnson croon “Kindhearted Woman” or dazzle with searing riffs on “Terraplane Blues,” the evocative singing and otherworldly licks command attention. The sound quality is crisper than on the previous collection, and the track annotation provides more insight into how and when the tunes were recorded. For instance, “3-20 Blues” was the only song he recorded on November 26th, 1936 in San Antonio. Listening to the track, he sounds more introspective, more focused than on many of the other sides, which were cut seven or eight at a time over one day.

With the essays and liner notes, a broader narrative also develops about Johnson’s life. Besides the dubious, often repeated tale about him selling his soul to the devil for the ability to play the guitar with superior mastery, not much was clear about who he was. Another perspective is formed in listening to the tracks from his contemporaries. Johnson perfected not only blues, but country, swing, polka, pop, and whatever else was popular. He could also sing, dance, and play so that he rivaled many bands. Listening to the blues of his featured contemporaries like Frank Stokes and Samuel “Fat” Westmoreland, Johnson’s evocative wails and precise picking show how he had mastered his craft beyond singers with much more experience and finesse. The inclusion of the other artists from his recording sessions also opens a window to what was shaping music and history during the period. The country recordings sound cleaner and cover topics meant to glorify Southern living in the face of the Depression. Johnson’s songs dove deep into the pain and struggle of the times and with little gloss to make it more palatable.

In the documentary, Keb’ Mo‘ brings Johnson to life while Danny Glover narrates important details of Johnson’s life, like the fact that “he was a walking jukebox” and he had small hands, long fingers, and played the guitar like a piano. Fascinating insight from Honeyboy Edwards, Johnny Shines, and Robert Lockwood Jr. color in more lines into the mysterious legend. According to Lockwood, Johnson wrote many songs that he never recorded but personally taught him. Although he was only a year older than Lockwood, Johnson dated his mother and showed him guitar licks that he hid from everyone else.

Absorbing the entire box set lends the most complete impression of Robert Johnson yet. It not only explores the depths of his music but also his life and how he lived it. After being inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame in 1986 and earning a Grammy for the 1990 compilation, Johnson was transformed from a little-known blues artist to a mythical American music hero. With Centennial Edition, the man behind the myth is revealed and the genius is broken down into accessible facts. This is essential listening for blues fans and history buffs.

R.I.P.: On April 11th, local blues guitarist and vocalist Lacey Gibson, 74, passed away from a heart attack. Noted for his vibrant guitar style and soulful vocals, Gibson played with Son Seals, Willie Dixon, Sun Ra, and Otis Rush, among others. He recorded three solo albums and was a beloved West Side figure as co-owner of Ann’s Love Nest. His memorable sound and affable presence will be sorely missed.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

Blues guitarist Michael Burks earned his “Iron Man” moniker honestly, through non-stop touring and exhaustive shows featuring fiercely intense guitar licks. But there’s a deeper meaning to his nickname. After putting his guitar down for 11 years to support his family, he picked it up again and faced down a dwindling music industry, small-town fears, and a bleak blues scene, with nothing but his iron will and searing talent for support.

Appearing: Friday, April 15th at Buddy Guy’s Legends in Chicago.

“You got knuckleheads like me who won’t give up,” Burks says in regards to his mid-life blues career. “I had to take care of my family and music wasn’t working out. I was away from my music a long time”

You’d never know it from listening to his 2001 re-emergence,, Make It Rain (Alligator). Boasting smooth fretwork and gritty vocals, the album grabbed national attention and placed him firmly in rising-star status. Although Burks had stepped away from playing for more than a decade, he still claimed a family music legacy as well as almost 20 years as a performer, and no amount of time can wipe away that.

“I started playing guitar at an early age,” he says. “My old man was the first guy to organize a band in my hometown of Camden, Arkansas. He was the only one with a real instrument [a bass]; he had to teach them all to play.” It was also in the small town of Camden, population 12,000, that his grandfather started playing acoustic blues in local juke joints. The blues flows through Burks’ blood.

After picking up the guitar at age 2, young Burks soon progressed to performing at nightclubs at 6. “At 12-years old, I did a three-month tour with T Bone Walker. I played behind him at the Watts Summer Festival in 1972,” he says.

In the ’70s, Burks and his family helped their father build a music club where Burks led the house band every weekend. The club remained popular for years, and so did Burks. He also played in his own band and backed visiting blues greats from O.V. Wright to Johnnie Taylor. And then the bottom dropped out.

“When disco became popular, everybody stopped hiring bands, they just used DJs,” Burks recalls. “Everybody was disco crazy. That put a lot of bands out of business, especially mine.” By the mid ’80s, the family club closed and Burks pushed his guitar under his bed, choosing to work full-time as a mechanical technician rather than risk the financial insecurity of the music business any longer. Little did he know, he’d never be able to totally let the blues go.

“My boss was a blues fan and he’d always ask me why I was at that job and not playing my music,” says Burks. Eventually in 1994, a friend from Austin coaxed him into excavating his axe from its bedroom tomb. They started jamming together, then started gigging at small bars. “I let them talk me into going to Little Rock for the International Blues Challenge, and we won. I thought those people were out of their minds. I hadn’t played in 11 years – talk about rusty!” But Burks continued with the challenge to Memphis where his band placed third and he won the Albert King award for best blues guitar. “All these clubs wanted to book us,” he says. “They wanted me to come play at festivals. I told them I didn’t travel. Then I heard how much they wanted to pay me, and I changed my mind. We played the Spring In The Blues Festival in Jacksonville, Florida, and we got club gigs while we were down there at the festival. I made more money in one weekend than I made in two weeks at my full-time job.”

By 1996, Burks had arrived at a point where he was taking off from work every Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and sometimes Mondays, to play gigs. “I got to the point where I had to make a choice,” he says. “It was either work the job or play music for a living.” It took him six months to reach a decision, but his self-produced CD, 1997’s The Inside Out, made the choice clear. With fans clamoring for the 500 copies he made with his tax return and critics raving, Burks realized that he couldn’t ignore his music legacy. His current outing, Iron Man (Alligator), demonstrates exactly why.

The album’s 12 tracks, seven written by Burks, reveal explosive playing and commanding vocals. From the hard-times anthem, “Hard Come, Easy Go,” which pumps with palpable frustration accented with fiery licks, to the aching heartbreak of “Ice Pick Through My Heart,” Burks has covered all the bases.

“I always believed this was what I was supposed to do,” he says. “I just had to make up my mind. It’s a job – just being on the road is hard, but I’m lovin’ it. I hope my listeners find understanding about the blues and relate to what I write. Blues is about your experience in life, up or down, good or bad.”

Sweet Home caught up with “Gulf Coast Blues” guitarist Hamilton Loomis while he was in town playing at Rosa’s. Raised on a steady diet of blues, soul, and funk, and mentored by Bo Diddley, Loomis plays a distinctive blend of blues-influenced music. “Nothing I do is traditional blues. My philosophy is to reach the younger generation,” he says. “My stuff is funky and rootsy. As a white boy from the burbs [Galveston, Texas], why am I going to try to replicate traditional blues? The foundation of what I play is the blues, but my guys behind me are playing a Gulf Coast stew. It’s a nod to rock, blues, soul, and funk. The blues is in there, but it’s disguised with a funkiness that will appeal to more people.” It’s a philosophy that we’ve heard more than a few times. Must the blues be disguised to reach wider appeal? We think that the essence of pure blues is powerful enough to stand on its own, but then again, we don’t run record companies.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

Nellie “Tiger” Travis boasts all the requirements for the perfect blues pedigree. She was born in Mississippi. Growing up, she sang in her church choir.

Appearing: Friday, March 11th at B.L.U.E.S. and Friday, the 18th at Buddy Guy’s Legends in Chicago.

She listened to a steady diet of classic gospel and country music. Such is the power of her voice that Purvis “The Blues Man” Spann declared her the new queen of the blues after Koko Taylor passed away. All very fitting, except when you discover that Travis never actually listened to the blues until she was a young adult, and only started singing it after she had established a career performing R&B.

“I started singing in church at 5-years old,” says Travis. “All my uncles were gospel singers and my grandmother, who raised me, was an evangelist. She was against anything other than gospel. I heard snatches of blues at other people’s houses, but I didn’t get to really listen to blues until I was a young adult.”

So it’s no wonder that Travis spent the beginning of her career singing Southern soul and R&B; despite growing up in Mound Bayou, Mississippi, the blues was not on her radar. She was the star of many school programs, singing the gospel standard “My Precious Lord” so many times that she can’t stand to hear it to this day. Still, that gospel training serves as the solid foundation for her current blues vocals, which simmer with soul-moving vibrato and signature shouts and growls.

Her new album, I’m Going Out Tonight (Benevolent Blues), is the first all-blues CD that Travis has released in her 22-year career. The 10 tracks represent the journey the singer has traveled: from gospel to R&B to blues; from Mississippi to Los Angeles to Chicago. That she penned six of them reflects the power of a contemporary blues woman. The title track is a sexy, slow burner that proclaims, “I’m going out tonight/to have myself some fun/if you ain’t with it/then I guess you ain’t the one!” On the funked-up blues anthem of “Tornado Wrapped In Fire,” Travis makes her dominance even clearer: “I’m not the girl I used to be/I reached out for something higher/in your eyes I was once a low flame/now I’m a tornado wrapped in fire.” Tunes like these illustrate the attitude and the growling sensuality that earned her the nickname, “Tiger.”

“I’m daring and I take charge — that’s what tigers do,” she says. “The only difference is that I don’t eat people.” Her cousin gave her the moniker when she realized that, like her musical influences Big Mama Thornton and Big Time Sarah, blues women have nicknames. But she is adamant about the version used, eschewing Tigress or anything that denotes less power. “Tiger can be male or female and it’s not ‘The Tiger,’ it’s just ‘Tiger.’”

With bright blond hair and a penchant for layering white or animal prints against her smooth mahogany skin, Travis definitely looks the part of the take-charge blues diva. But it wasn’t too long ago that she was a “green” Mississippi girl who didn’t know even one blues song. She sang lead in the Southern-soul group Ssipp (for Mississippi) once she graduated from high school, touring the South during the mid-’80s. In 1987, she left the Deep South for L.A., hoping to realize her dream of becoming an R&B star.

“I left Mississippi with the attitude that I was going to L.A. and if I had to, sleep on Quincy Jones’ doorstep until he heard me.”

It didn’t quite happen like that. Sheltered and naïve, she encountered many industry people eager to take advantage of her. Once she auditioned for the remake of The Marvelettes, hoping it would be her big break. “The guy told me to turn around, which I thought was strange. Then he left the room for a long time and when I went into the hallway to find him, he came out of a room and I saw three white women lined up naked against the wall. He propositioned me and I said no. All I could hear was my grandmother in my head, saying you can always come back to church.”

Travis slowly built a following singing with different L.A.-based R&B bands, but she still worked a day job, doing data entry or working in a convalescent home for steady income. It wasn’t until she moved to Chicago in 1992, that she decided to sing full-time and that all her material would be the blues.

“I came to Chicago to take care of my mother because she was sick. I never planned to stay,” she explains. But fate stepped in as soon as she entered Kingston Mines one night. “I sat in with Howard Scott’s band. I didn’t know any blues songs so I sang ‘Proud Mary.’ They hired me the same night to play with LV Banks the following week.” Travis had to quickly gain some blues knowledge so she devised her own curriculum.

“After Kingston Mines hired me, I went out to listen to bands every night. I sang the songs they sang [like] ‘Sweet Home,’ ‘Mustang Sally’; I learned the style. I just never had thought about the blues before, I had been doing R&B.” Recalling the injustices that she witnessed back home, Travis realized that she had actually been groomed for the blues all along. “I grew up with the blues, I just didn’t know I had it!”

She later honed her style by listening to local singers like Melvia “Chick” Rogers and Big Time Sarah, but her ultimate influence was from the Queen Of The Blues herself. “In 1997, I was singing at Koko Taylor’s banquet hall on New Year’s Eve and my mom was videotaping me. She had a massive aneurysm and dropped dead at my feet. Koko took me under her wing. She was like another mother to me.”

You can hear echoes of Taylor in Travis’ low, raspy delivery and her confident stage performance. After 19 years of singing the blues, she has fully embraced the genre, even in her relationships. Her husband Tim Austin is Buddy Guy’s drummer and she regularly hosts blues icons in her home. She takes the title of “New Queen Of The Blues” very seriously. “I had a prominent person give me that title and I’m going to wear it well.”

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

T-Model Ford (James Lewis Carter Ford) enjoys life. Although I’ve never met the Delta bluesman, his joy for living seeps through every chord of Taledragger (Alive). That’s a particularly fortunate attribute, not only for his music but for fans of traditional Delta blues. As the number of that era’s bluesmen diminishes each year, savoring 90-year-old Ford’s robust tunes is especially sweet. The sparse but evocative set on Taledragger includes only eight tracks but each is rich enough to make up for the small selection.

Opening with a chuggin’, uptempo shuffle, “Same Old Train,” the haunting tune emits a scratchy, raw tone that covers the rest of the album. It also establishes the avowed, reoccurring ladies-man focus on a “big-legged mama,” which he punctuates with an excited yelp at the song’s end. The seven-minute song swerves between Ford’s home of Greenville, Mississippi and Chicago with such skill that it perfectly melds Delta grit with Chi-town blues grooves. “Coming Back Home” unleashes a jaunty rhythm and a mounting tension that vibrates through a mournful sax as well as Ford’s guitar riffs.

Much has been made of Ford’s requisite blues bio. Reportedly, he’s an illiterate, five-times married ex-con who’s unsure of his real age and who only started playing in his late 50s. These details are propped up like the proper pedigree for a rough-hewn bluesman, but they really don’t affect what comes through this CD. The truth of Ford’s life flows through his gravelly voice, evoking cotton fields and struggle with a clarity that can’t be denied.

The standout tune is the foreboding “I Worn My Body For So Long,” with Ford’s voice echoing weariness and resignation and wah-wah guitars illustrating his long journey. While “Big Legged Woman” qualifies as an authentic juke-joint jam, “How Many More Years” is the CD’s only misfire, with too much reverb and disorganized melodies.

A cursory listen to Taledragger might conjure up the sound of classic pre-war blues, but closer analysis reveals an expertly crafted contemporary blues album with strict attention to Delta roots.

Earning a productive, 15-year career is an impressive feat in the fickle music industry, but it’s an especially significant milestone for a young blues woman. In a genre that only supports a small number of female voices, Shemekia Copeland has managed to build a vibrant collection of albums, of which the first four are chronicled on Deluxe Edition (Alligator). Best-of collections often inspire yawns from knowledgeable fans because they just skim over already released material. But with an exceptional artist like Copeland, who produced her debut at 19 and, at only 31, is still considerably young by blues standards, this format serves as a revealing exploration of an artist’s growth.

Kicking off with the title track from her 1998 debut, Turn The Heat Up, tinges of youth mingle with the authority that booms from her strong vocals. The soul song showcases the surprising power of the relatively new singer that she was at the time. Copeland’s selling point has long been the worldliness that belies her age and this was our first introduction. “Livin’ On Love,” from 2002’s Talking To Strangers, displays an easier, freewheeling attitude with a soul-filled shuffle. It’s not until the third track, her signature cover of father Johnny Clyde Copeland’s “Ghetto Child,” that the full effect of her jaw-dropping talent pushes through. As the first hardcore blues ballad on the disc, Copeland masterfully wrings every drop of melancholy from the sad tale of a barefoot street kid. The single was also from her debut and it was the exact point where young Copeland at just 17, claimed her blues legacy.

All 16 tracks supply a dose of Copeland’s forceful vocals, covering R&B, rock, and soul, but it’s mostly the blues tracks that own the limelight. “Don’t Whisper,” a blues ballad that overflows with nuances as sharp as spears, and “Salt In My Wounds” call up the commanding blues belting for which Copeland became known. A surprising anomaly is the jazzy “Stay A Little Longer, Santa” from Genuine Houserockin’ Christmas, where her pared-down vocals entice with lighthearted sauciness.

There’s nothing quite as buoyant and catchy as jump blues and, for the last 40 years, no contemporary band has kept the legacy alive like Roomful Of Blues. Although the band have endured a lot of personnel changes since their start in 1967, tight musicianship has always remained a hallmark and the current lineup are no exception. On Hook, Line & Sinker (Alligator) the band do what they do best, paying homage to the juke-joint dance hits of the ’40s and ’50s with expert musicianship and a gritty contemporary take.

The album’s 17-tracks are all high-energy covers, but it’s an especially well-curated collection of raucous classics. The opener, “That’s A Pretty Good Love,” made famous by Big Maybelle, sets a joyful tone with a swinging groove that lingers way past the song’s end. Other standouts are “Kill Me,” highlighting lead singer Phil Pemberton’s soulful crooning, and the title track, which jumps with joy and contagious lyrics: Sha la la la/sha la la/She calls me big poppa.” Switching effortlessly from big-band anthems to raunchy urban blues, Hook, Line & Sinker delivers.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

James Kinds‘ voice cackles with the sweat of the Mississippi delta and the grit of Chicago’s West Side. It’s the kind of voice that can translate heady emotion with a quick shift of tone. Such is the resonance of his vocals that he was declared “the best new voice in Chicago” by Living Blues magazine back in 1976. So why haven’t you heard of him? Good question. Kinds spent decades working low-key club sets in rented halls on the shadows of the Loop, out of the spotlight. He moved to Dubuque, Iowa in 1993, which actually increased his visibility when the Iowa Blues Hall Of Fame inducted him in 2008. His recent release, Love You From The Top (Delmark), provides an in-depth exploration of Kinds’ musical gifts, and gives him some overdue recognition.

From the flavorful blues licks of the title track, which opens the album, it’s clear that Kinds is a master of straightahead, soulful blues. All 15 tracks stick to a strict 12-bar format and Kinds polishes each into raw perfection. A solid guitarist, he manages to underscore the urgency of his voice with sharp riffs. He shines on fast-paced blues burners like “Oo Wee Baby” and the humorous “High Heel Blues,” as well as slower-paced offerings like the autobiographical “Mason Dixon Line Blues,” which boasts catchy lines like “I was born in Mississippi/50 miles from Tennessee/Eight miles from the crossroads/that’s where the blues first met me.”

Another Love You From The Top highlight is the presence of one of Kinds’ mentors, legendary blues saxophonist Eddie Shaw. His famous grooves sizzle through the thick R&B rhythm that laces through the memorable “Johnny Mae.” Thirty-five years later, Kinds still qualifies as one of Chicago’s best new voices.

If you ask any blues guitarist about his influences, Albert King’s name will most likely come up. He was the ultimate blues guitar master who guided a host of young blues guitarists on their path and Stevie Ray Vaughan was one of them. Vaughan idolized King, which was evident on the seminal Albert King With Stevie Ray Vaughan In Session live album released in 1999. The CD showcased King’s blistering single-string solos as well as banter that revealed the endearing relationship between the two guitarists. Recorded in 1983 for the live Canadian TV series “In Session,” the CD stood as the only document of the two legends playing together, as both had passed away by 1992.

For the first time, video footage of the historic session has been released with a deluxe edition CD/DVD In Session package from Stax. For fans who know every note of the original release, the DVD heralds scads of details and previously unreleased performances that make the 11-year-old album seem fresh. To view King and Vaughan in their prime, tearing up strings side by side, is alone worth the price of the set.

The DVD doesn’t follow the order of the CD, so it was a surprise to see it open with King and Vaughan performing “Born Under A Bad Sign.” King’s signature hit blasts into the studio as he attacks his iconic Flying V. Vaughan joins him in the assault, trading dazzling solos with his hero. What immediately jumps out to the viewer is the rapport between the two musicians. As Vaughan churns out a scorching solo, King looks on like the proud papa he essentially was. King addresses Vaughan as if it’s just the two of them recalling old times, when the young guitarist would be “draggin’ your little guitar and asking to sit in. You’d get in one or two good licks and then back off. I never thought you’d be as bad as you are. You really done growed up. Just don’t get a big head.” Vaughan dutifully nods.

Another highlight that wasn’t included on the CD is “Texas Flood.” Vaughan had just released his landmark debut album of the same name and if he held back before, there was no more of that as he shut his eyes and belted out the chorus while unleashing scorching riffs. King retreats slightly, allowing Vaughan to command his song. Towards the end, King rises from his chair, his 6-foot 4-inch frame looming symbolically as he played his Gibson, strung upside down for his nimble left hand. With “Albert King” scrawled in gold on the neck, it was evident that he was indeed a king with a magical instrument.

Combined with the 11-track CD, along with the evocative DVD, In Session is a significant historical document that’s a must for even casual blues fans.

Studebaker John’s Maxwell Street Kings electric debut, That’s The Way You Do (Delmark), features Chicago blues veterans pouring out classic urban blues. The CD boasts 15 original tunes written by Studebaker John (Grimaldi) in the West Side tradition he absorbed during the heyday of Maxwell Street. A standout is “Slide By Slide,” which showcases expert slide guitar riffs.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

When Mike Raspatello was thinking about what was missing in Chicago’s crowded music-festival calendar, he immediately considered the lack of roots music. “There was nothing offered in the winter months at all,” he adds. “The roots genre was relegated to the summer months.” To remedy the situation, Raspatello created the Chicago Bluegrass And Blues Festival in 2007. The three-day party presents acts that play some derivative of the two genres, in either traditional or contemporary form. This year’s event, December 3rd to 5th, features a diverse lineup including funk/blues rock group Grace Potter & The Nocturnals, Delta blues legend David “Honeyboy” Edwards, alt-country group Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, and roots reggae notables The Skatalites.

It might appear to be a rather scattered offering to the unfamiliar ear, but Raspatello is aiming at a broad mix of music fans to introduce them to less mainstream genres. “Blues and bluegrass is the root of everything we have in concert,” he says. “We feature traditional blues and bluegrass and then go a few branches down the family tree. If you stick to traditional, there’s not as many fans as when you get into more derivative genres. People in their early 20s go to the most concerts. But they were missing out because they wouldn’t spend $45 to see traditional blues like Honeyboy. With this fest, when they come to hear Edward Sharpe perform ‘Home,’ they’ll also get to hear more traditional forms.”

Raspatello grew up as “a music dork” who liked to study music. “I’m into everything. I read every word, in chronological order, of 1,000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die,” he says, referring to one of several attempts at a comprehensive, worldwide list. He also grew up as a traditional blues fan, sneaking into the Chicago Blues Fest as a kid. “Buddy Guy was the first blues musician I remember listening to. Then my dad taught me about Corky Siegel and I discovered Stevie Ray Vaughan. Couldn’t Stand The Weather and The Siegel-Schwall Reunion Concert were my first blues albums.”

He has also attended a lot of big musical gatherings over the years, from Telluride Blues Festival to the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in San Francisco, and he’s determined to bring some of that communal, outdoor spirit to the CBGB. “It will be as close to the summer-fest vibe as you will get in December, in Chicago,” he says. “It’s three days but the middle day [at Congress Theatre] has the real fest atmosphere. We’ll fill the place with vendors and bands. Friday’s show [Double Door] is the warmup and Sunday’s [Lincoln Hall] is the cooldown.”

Go to cbbfestival.com for the complete schedule.

SLEDGE-O-MATIC: Rory Gallagher may not be a familiar name to the average blues fan, but he deserves a place among the most evocative of its guitarists and the recent release of the DVD set Ghost Blues: The Story Of Rory Gallagher/The Beat Club Sessions (Eagle Video) showcases the depth of his legendary skill. Although Gallagher died in 1995 and is more famous in his native Ireland than the U.S., his influence continues to touch rock guitarists and blues fans alike.

The 150-minute package provides an engaging narrative of Gallagher’s life as well as an interesting overview of Irish rock history. Born in Cork at a time when the Emerald Isle struggled with economic depression, young Gallagher decided he wanted to become a musician at 8-years old. His first instrument was a dime-store ukulele, followed by a secondhand, acoustic guitar. By the late ’60s, Gallagher had formed a power trio, Taste, where his songwriting, singing, and guitar chops turned the band into a sensation.

Clips of Gallagher’s playing from the time illustrate exactly why he captured so many fans. One highlight shows him with his signature long, dark hair fanning out over his face, belting out his interpretation of Muddy Water’s “Garbage Man.” His voice vibrates with anguish, his guitar licks blister with heartache. It’s significant that Gallagher doesn’t merely play a version of the classic blues tune but adds enough of his own phrasing that if you didn’t know the song, you would swear it was Gallagher’s original.

It’s interesting to hear commentators note that while Americans “didn’t respect their own music history” at the time, British and Irish musicians took to the blues and related it to the class system. The result was blues playing that was more authentically palpable than much of what came from American musicians who just seemed to play tribute and not really relate.

The Taste broke up in 1970 and Gallagher exploded as a guitar god, so much so that in 1972, Melody Maker magazine rated him as the best guitarist, just above Eric Clapton.

He was also courted by The Rolling Stones when Mick Taylor dropped out, but, as it was explained by everyone who knew him, Gallagher was a frontman only. He also could never be a music-industry lackey, famously refusing to record singles or manage his career in any way that promoted stardom over his simple focus of playing music. The interviews featured on the DVD are enlightening and read like a who’s who of Irish rock, including Bob Geldof, Johnny Marr, and The Edge. Director and former music journalist Cameron Crowe also makes an appearance as does former Guns N’ Roses guitarist Slash. Predictably, it’s Geldolf who provides the most insightful quips. In describing Gallagher, who died from liver disease at 47, he says, “He could have been in a seminary, except his chalice was his guitar and his prayers were the blues.”

R.I.P.: Condolences to family and friends of Stan Davis, owner of the legendary South Side lounge Lee’s Unleaded Blues. Davis passed away on November 12th from cardiac arrest.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

Famous for his raw, soulful vocals and flashy delivery, Syl Johnson may be noted as a soul-music icon, but he was a blues master long before he took up that mantle. Listening to his crackling tenor slice through his 1975 hit, “Take Me To The River,” it’s easy to forget that the rollicking blues harp that opens the tune is by the same person. The blues underscores everything that Johnson has produced over his 50-year career, and that’s breathtakingly clear with the exhaustive Complete Mythology (Numero Group) box set.

Appearing: Saturday, November 27th at Old Town School Of Folk Music (4544 N. Lincoln) in Chicago.

“My stuff is bluesy,” he says. “You can’t pull the blues out of me. It’s impossible.” While it is “blues with a syncopated rhythm,” it doesn’t detract from the overall blues tradition showcased in the release. Documenting his career from his 1959 debut of “Teardrops,” a doo-wop ballad full of ’50s R&B sensibilities, to “Soul Heaven,” a blues-laced instrumental that showcased groovy ’70s style, the four CDs explore Johnson’s journey from blues musician with funky vocals to accomplished soul singer. (The box set’s additional six LPs weren’t available for review at press time.)

At 74, Johnson’s blues and soul résumé reads like a who’s who of music history. He traded guitar licks with Matt “Guitar” Murphy as a kid in Mississippi and later with his best friend Magic Sam as a pre-teen on the South Side. He went on to play guitar and harmonica with Junior Wells, Billy Boy Arnold, Elmore James, Sunnyland Slim, Shakey Jake, and Freddie King. He opened for Howlin’ Wolf, Willie Dixon, and Muddy Waters. His seminal black-consciousness tune, “Is It Because I’m Black?,” predates Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” and boasts arrangements by Donny Hathaway. His years recording with the Memphis label Hi Records spawned influential songs produced by the legendary Willie Mitchell with the equally legendary Hi rhythm section. To round things out, we can include the classic hip-hop artists who have sampled Johnson’s music, such as the Wu-Tang Clan, Cypress Hill, Kool G Rap, and Geto Boys, which demonstrates how his impact stretches over five decades.

“People say W.C. Handy wrote the blues – he did not. Didn’t nobody write it; it wrote itself,” says Johnson. As if to underscore his point, he bursts out with a freestyle blues harp riff. Growing up in Holly Springs, Mississippi, he absorbed the tenets of the blues watching his father play harmonica and his family scramble to make a living sharecropping cotton and corn. His older brother, blues guitarist and singer Jimmy Johnson, was the first to pick up the guitar, at the urging of “Guitar” Murphy. His other brother, bassist Mack Thompson, soon followed and young Syl took to sneaking Jimmy’s guitar and tracing the frets he played. By the time the family relocated to Chicago in 1950, blues was firmly planted in his awareness.

He was quickly scooped up by James “Shakey Jake” Harris as a harp player and then a guitarist, and spent most of 1955 playing on stage with him. By the next few years, he was backing Billy Boy Arnold, Elmore James, and Junior Wells on record.

Johnson’s shift into R&B, with more emphasis on the rhythm, began in the ’60s with the popularity of Motown, Stax, and the rise of soulful singers like James Brown, Otis Redding, and Sam & Dave. “I did the blues, but I added the rhythm with it so the young people can move their feet,” says Johnson. “[R&B and the blues] is all the same; the rhythm [in R&B] is just a little more graduated.” Complete Mythology clearly tracks this evolution, which grows more and more pronounced as Johnson dives into the ’70s and funk-laden soul.

This box set represents the first time Johnson’s extensive recordings have been compiled into a comprehensive, remastered offering of 28 singles and 10 previously unreleased tracks. From the soulful punch of “Come On Sock It To Me,” to the irresistible raw groove of the Hi Records years, the compilation is an embarrassment of riches, to say the least. For an artist who has flown mostly under the radar for his entire career, Mythology acts as an in-your-face diss to all those who slept on his talents.

The YouTube video of the song blowing up with more than a quarter-million views, “Is It Because I’m Black?” is probably Johnson’s best-known tune. Stunning in its evocative delivery of lyrics that break down decades of frustration and bitterness from Mississippi sharecropping to Chicago’s whites-only blues clubs, it was the first track to directly tackle the Civil Rights-era fury of the African-American community. Released in 1969, the single garnered a number 11 position on Billboard’s R&B chart, cutting into listeners’ souls with Johnson’s aching delivery and a haunting rhythm laced with blues undertones. The following eponymous concept album, released in 1970, became the first to document the social reality of the black experience and marked Johnson’s arrival as a noteworthy singer and songwriter. “I didn’t want to write a militant song,” says Johnson of his inspiration. “I wanted to write about what was really going on in the world. The male gets more money, it’s a fact. No matter how hard a woman works, she never earns as much as a man. Now why do you think that is?” To further elaborate on his point, Johnson recalls the story of his grandfather and three uncles purchasing the Mississippi plantation that they had worked on in 1916. They were cheated out of the land decades later and Johnson continues the battle to get it back, insisting that it’s the same scenario that he outlined in his song.

“Is It Because I’m Black?” is an obvious standout in the collection, but other less-obvious highlights include the straightahead blues of “I’ve Got To Find My Baby,” the compellingly emotional vocals layered with psychedelic flourishes on “I’m Talkin’ Bout Freedom,” and the infectious rhythms of “I Want To Take You Home (To See Mamma).”

Besides his gifted daughter, R&B singer Syleena Johnson, Johnson has expanded his legacy to include a young Australian soul singer named Melody. “She’s the first artist to come back to record for Twilight Records,” he says. “I saw her in the backup band when I was in Australia and I brought her to the U.S. to record. It’s part of my legacy, keeping rhythm and blues alive.”

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

Traditionally, autumn signals the harvest and what a bountiful crop that the blues has sown. A new Chicago label, Swississippi Records, launched last month and has released an impressive collection of classic blues albums. With a name that references CEO Chris Harper’s European heritage and manager/producer Dave Katzman’s love for blues history, the label aims to attract a bigger blues audience with a multi-platform push of retail and online visibility. Swisissippi celebrates with a huge release party on the 3rd at Mayne Stage in Rogers Park.

Much of that focus will most likely go to Peaches Staten, a powerhouse singer/songwriter whose Live At Legends displays memorable energy and skilled musicianship. The CD’s nine tracks were recorded live at Buddy Guy’s last May, making Staten the last blues artist to record at the original Legends space. The selection is small but diverse, mixing originals with blues classics and even a catchy cover of Robert Palmer’s “Bad Case Of Lovin’ You.” A highlight unfolds when Staten belts over a zydeco-flavored, zesty original, “Gotta Find My Man,” while playing the washboard. She started her career in a zydeco band and the vestiges of that experience echo in her playing and kicky delivery. Another standout is Staten’s robust cover of Tina Turner’s “You Know I Love You,” where she digs deep for the requisite grit and soul. Although she boasts an established following in Europe, it’s time for the U.S. to take notice of her talents.

Another Swississipi offering is Harper’s Four Aces And A Harp, a rousing treat for traditional blues fans. The 18-track trove features pure blues by Chicago blues all stars Jimmy Burns, John Primer, Willie “Big Eyes” Smith, and Bob Stroger, while Harper underscores their genius with swirling harp licks. The idea behind the album was to showcase acoustic Delta blues on the first half and electric on the other to demonstrate the progression. No matter which style you prefer, the sheer magic of the acoustic tracks’ rolling melodies as well as the brilliance of the electric will draw you in.

With a lovely instrumental of Duke Ellington’s “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore” serving as the dividing line, every tune is essential listening. From the exquisite Delta longing of Burns’ vocals on “Smell Trouble,” to the singular growl of Tail Dragger on the electric sizzle of “Evil Is Going On,” this album is a near-perfect tribute to the blues. Although Harper’s originals are a bit indulgent, the rest of the CD more than makes up for it. Four Aces And A Harp masterfully earns its title.

If that’s not enough, guitarist Rob Blaine serves up hot contemporary blues for Swississippi on the excellent Big Otis Blues. The 12-track CD immediately sets the bar high with the explosive “Not The Forgiving Kind,” where Blaine showcases both his sharp guitar chops as well as his husky, passionate vocals. The evocative ballad “Only Mine” reveals that he’s not just a showy performer but can delve into real emotion. “Same Old Blues” goes even deeper, managing to reference traditionals with a contemporary sensibility. A local presence as a backing guitarist, if this set is any indication, Blaine won’t be in the background for much longer.

Anything from the Godfather Of The Blues guarantees heady listening, but the previously unreleased Junior Wells & The Aces‘ Live In Boston 1966 (Delmark) provides not just entertainment but an important historical document. It shows Wells in his prime, his dynamic personality pushing through the recording.

Live In Boston highlights an interesting point in Wells’ life. He started his career in 1950 with The Aces, a band made up of brothers Dave and Louis Myers and drummer Fred “Professor Of The Blues” Below and they helped redefine Chicago blues with a hipper, more soulful interpretation. Little Walter hired The Aces as his first band and Wells played with Muddy Waters during the rest of the decade, but The Aces remained his favorites. In 1966, instead of taking his regular Chicago crew to play in Boston which would have included Buddy Guy and Jack Meyers, he reached back and took The Aces. The ease and intimacy of the musical interplay is all over the recording.

The 19 tracks showcase Wells’ riveting set with his banter interspersed between. It’s the kind of high-energy, groove-heavy show that Wells was famous for and the CD positively cackles with his vibrant spirit. The songs present familiar blues offerings transformed with killer grooves like “Look On Yonder’s Wall” filled with harp hotness and “That’s Alright,” where Wells’ vocals swoop with pain. But the wonders of the CD are the largely improvised tunes, like “Junior’s Whoop,” which frolics into great extended solos by Wells and Myers and “I Don’t Know,” where Wells delivers sly banter referencing Sonny Boy Williamson’s “Fattening Frogs For Snakes” and then rolls into intense harp blasts. The musical flow was moving and Wells rode the wave for dazzling effect. Even the ending take on “Got My Mojo Working” receives a fresh and inspired intro. As Wells remarks on the recording, “You got to have a hole in your heart if you don’t feel this.”

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

The fall traditionally signals back to school, work, and more activity than the lazy days of summer usually demands. Well the blues has stepped it up as well, with a slew of recent releases and reissues from the masters.

For any blues guitar fan, the remastered, expanded version of Stevie Ray Vaughan’s 1984 classic, Couldn’t Stand The Weather (Epic/Legacy), is a must listen but it’s also an essential for anyone even slightly interested in the blues. This two-disc set crisply documents the breadth of Vaughan’s dazzling talent, from his stylish versions of blues standards to evocative originals. The reissue commemorates the 20th anniversary of the mournful passing of SRV in 1990, after an Alpine Valley show with Robert Cray and Eric Clapton. I was at that concert and it will forever be etched in my memory as a seminal music event. His charisma and stunning showmanship overshadowed both Cray and Clapton, illuminating the rising star power that was dashed too soon. As his second album, Couldn’t Stand The Weather’s eight tracks explored myriad influences, molding them into his own style. Coming so closely after 1983’s sizzling debut, Texas Flood, it has traditionally been underrated, but that might soon change.

Including the four session outtakes from the 1999 expanded version, the Legacy Edition adds four tunes from the posthumous The Sky Is Crying along with three previously unreleased alternate takes of that collection’s title track, “Stang’s Swang,” and “Boot Hill.” The real treat is the previously unreleased Stevie Ray and Double Trouble concert at the Montreal Spectrum in 1984. The heightened energy, the crazed crowd, the palpable emotion flying from Vaughan’s guitar chords are all there in vivid detail.

Another can’t-miss release from a legendary blues talent is Pinetop Perkins & Wille “Big Eyes” Smith’s Joined At The Hip (Telarc). Billed as 170 years of blues history on one album, these icons deliver all the skill and originality expected from 97-year-old and 74-year-old masters. One of the few living original Delta bluesmen, Perkins continues to tour and record and you hear it in the ease of his piano playing. Although Smith is most famous as Muddy Waters’ drummer, he has picked up the harp in recent years and the easygoing connection between the instruments and the two friends behind them makes this 13-track CD a pleasure to hear. Highlights include “Grown Up To Be A Man,” a classic Chicago blues shuffle, and a cover of Sonny Boy Williamson’s “Cut That Out,” supplied with an uptempo groove and a rare and laid-back call-and-response between Perkins and Smith. However, the album’s absolute standout is Perkins’ riveting interpretation of Thomas Dorsey’s (an original bluesman who created gospel music) church-going classic “Take My Hand, Precious Lord.” The power of near-centenery Perkins singing quietly about being tired and weak, pleading for the strength of God, is not to be missed.

Mississippi Heat offer up tantalizing contemporary blues on their latest, Let’s Live It Up (Delmark). As the title indicates, there’s a party going on and the Mississippi Heat collective has invited everybody. Frontman Pierre Lacocque laces high-energy harp playing through 14 tracks of mostly original and pleasingly diverse tunes. The title track sets the tone for raucous goodtime music, underscored by Inetta Visor’s rich vocals and Carl Weathersby’s stinging guitar blasts. With a huge cast of 18 expert musicians on this CD, it’s really hard to go wrong but Rhonda Preston, a regular showstopper at Chicago’s Black Ensemble Theater, manages to up the ante on the entertaining “Daggers And Spears” and the funky groove of “Been Good To You,” bounces with Lacocque’s magical harp work.

Lucky Peterson’s long-awaited You Can Always Turn Around (Dreyfus Jazz) – his first in seven years – serves as a testament to his virtuoso gifts as well as the real transformative ability of the blues. This intimate, 11-track collection is perhaps the most moving and innovative blues CD of the year. A child prodigy discovered by Willie Dixon at 3-years old, Peterson has lived with the glory and the challenges that such a talent brings and you hear every nuance of his journey in his vocals as well as his piano and guitar playing. After struggling to break away from drug addiction for years, Peterson discovered that you can always turn around and change your life’s path. With a diverse array of tunes that shift from Robert Johnson to Lucinda Williams, he does exactly that with You Can Always Turn Around.

This is one CD that requires multiple listenings before even cracking its impressive surface. Peterson’s gripping vocals growl, chuckle, and wring the emotion out of every lyric, whether it’s foot-stomping bravado on Blind Willie McTell’s “Statesboro Blues” or an ethereal quality on Tom Waits’ “Trampled Rose.” Curtis Mayfield’s “Think” and the Nina Simone-popularized “I Wish I knew How It Would Feel To Be Free” also appear and he makes them his own, (the latter featuring his talented wife Tamara) mixing blues with doses of soul, gospel, and personality. Each track is gripping but the star is Peterson’s spirited treatment of Lucinda Williams’ “Atonement,” which draws chills with Peterson’s booming vocals and ferocious guitar licks. You will never forget this version, whether you know the original or not.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

As a child in New Orleans, Tovi Khali didn’t quite know what she wanted to be when she grew up, until she first glimpsed inside Bourbon Street blues clubs. “I’d be outside watching the singers and I knew I wanted to do that,” says Khali. “If it weren’t for the blues, I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing.”

Appearing: August 8th at Rumba in Chicago.

What she’s doing includes performing her own brand of funky, soulful blues at Chicago clubs and events, composing emotional, nuan-ced songs and writing spoken-word pieces. Her journey from NOLA to Chicago colors much of her performance, from the tinge of longing, to the deep-down anguish that pours out of her soul. As a Katrina survivor, no matter what genre Khali is singing, the blues is never far from the surface.

“I was sneaking into blues clubs and singing by the time I was 14,” she says. “I’d perform with the bands and drink Drambuie afterwards,” she recalls. Her gift for commanding a crowd came even earlier. In grammar school, she often played class clown, and when her teacher put on Elvis and Beatles videos to occupy the class, Khali learned to sing the classic tunes. “I’d sing ‘Jailhouse Rock,’ only nobody was laughing,” says Khali. “One girl said, ‘Your voice sounds just like a record,’ and my teacher came in and said, ‘It sure does: You’re entering the talent show.’ Khali won the talent shows, writing contests, and every local competition that she entered. She began slipping into the blues clubs after her mother refused to let her attend a performing-arts high school. By the time she finished a public education, she decided that she would develop her talent on her own, in Los Angeles from 2000 until 2004 “to polish myself,” she says. “I wanted to find out if I could measure up. I took voice lessons, artist management lessons, and I performed all over L.A. paying my dues.”

She crafted her individual sound by mixing funk with New Orleans, spoken word, and blues. “Nobody could figure out how to label us. I named my band Je Na Sais Quoi — meaning ‘I don’t know what,’ because I got tired of hearing that people didn’t know what to make of me.” Her 11-track CD, Tovi Khali The Official Bootleg, reflects this genre-bending tendency. The tunes move from jazzy soul on “Time” to groove-focused funk on “Smoke Signals” to Delta-flavored blues on “Love Thing” for a Bourbon Street gumbo.

By the time she arrived back in her hometown in 2005, she had perfected a sound and stage presence enough to perform at the same club she snuck into as a child. She sang with Dwayne Doopsie, Prince Of Zydeco, as well as at the ultimate local showcase: The New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. “I sang Ray Charles’ ‘Night And Day’ and the crowd went wild. There’s nothing like that kind of adrenaline.”

Khali was also invited to perform at the French Quarter Festival and to undertake the coveted role of MC at The Old Opera House on Bourbon Street. Buzz surrounded her and doors were opening. Then Katrina hit.

“Katrina really devastated me. Not only did the levees break but so did my emotions. Music has saved me,” she says. Khali was living in the French Quarter when the hurricane hit but she had no evidence that it would not be like the dozens of other hurricanes that she had weathered. “I’ve been through many hurricanes and my family never evacuated,” she says. “I knew something was wrong after Katrina because nobody came out to pick up and clean up and come together as a community. It was just really quiet. It was eerie — there weren’t even any birds.”

Khali found refuge in a French Quarter hotel “built like a fortress.” She and her boyfriend stayed there for two days after the hurricane and a day after the levees broke with no water, electricity, and little food. Miraculously, they escaped on a chartered bus (for people with immediate needs; her boyfriend suffered from asthma and was forced to share an inhaler) that somehow made its way to the hotel with water flooding the streets.

“People were running to the bus, crying for help, beating on the bus. The bus driver was weeping, the whole bus was weeping. I saw a baby floating face down in the water, buildings crumbling, the water swishing up above us. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.” Khali and her boyfriend were dropped off at a small Houston airport. They cried uncontrollably when they read the newspapers and realized that they had just escaped death. “People we were with the day before didn’t make it,” she says. “Survival changes everything. Nobody was better than anybody. Everybody was on a level playing field. Katrina did not discriminate .”

The only possessions that Khali managed to salvage were her guitar, some clothes, and her CD. She received grief counseling to cope with the nightmares of devastation but her music provided the real therapy. “I write about what I feel and I don’t put everything in heavy metaphor. There are some things that I just put out there because that’s my truth and I don’t play my audience as stupid. My gift is not singing or performing, it’s reaching people. There’s nothing like getting up there and singing your song and having people respond.”

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

The blues had a baby and it called her Shemekia. Nursed on her father Johnny “Clyde” Copeland’s legacy of throbbing, funk-filled blues and groomed on the nuanced belting of Otis Redding, Sam Cooke, Mahalia Jackson, and O.V. Wright, Shemekia Copeland represents the greatest contemporary blues hope since Stevie Ray Vaughan. At 31, she’s a mere toddler by blues standards but with five critically acclaimed albums and a voice filled with enough power and poise to inspire a royal title, she stands firmly positioned to steer the blues back into pop-culture visibility.

Appearing: July 10th at Old Town School Of Folk Music’s Folk & Roots Festival in Chicago.

“My main goal in life is take the blues in a new direction,” says Copeland, “I want to see it go further.” Copeland appears uniquely equipped for the task. She started performing regularly at New York’s legendary Cotton Club by age 9 and released her debut record at 19. Raised in Harlem during the birth of hip-hop, she absorbed the beats and rhymes but preferred listening to classic soul. She also loved to hear her father perform his crisp, Texas blues. The influences of all of these genres can be glimpsed in Copeland’s vocals, which combine an MC’s swagger with a soul singer’s emotion, poured into the blood and guts of the blues. She easily melds the music of three generations to create blues music that’s catchy and still rooted enough in tradition that it appeals to blues lovers as well as people who never listen to the blues.

Copeland’s current CD, Never Going Back (Telarc), demonstrates her capacity to leap over narrow expectations with 12 of the most polished and diverse songs of her career. From a graceful Joni Mitchell interpretation to riveting originals, the album delivers all that blues could and should be. The opening track, “Sounds Like The Devil,” slams into a slow rhythm paired with Copeland’s assured belting for the perfect contemporary blues lament about bogus politicians and preachers: “I ain’t got health care/Lord it ain’t fair/I can’t even afford to die/they say they treat us all like family/but it sounds like the devil to me.” On the funky “Dirty Water,” Copeland’s voice shimmies like the Mississippi itself and on the title track, she calls up the fervor of a young Etta James but with more control. Her cover of Mitchell’s “Black Crow” packs a surprising wallop, with the singer gently layering blues over the jazz undertones.

“For me, it’s about the lyrics,” says Copeland. “I have to be able to jump into the music and be a part of the song. I got tired of avoiding religion and politics [in my music]. As I get older, I feel I have the right to say what I want to say. I’m 31, I’ve done my share of living and I know what’s going on. When I first came out I was 19. I hadn’t even voted.”

Copeland’s love of great songs and their most pivotal interpreters appeared early; she can remember listening to classic soul songs over and over, the way other children constantly watch the same movie. “I remember feeling things when I listened to music,” she says. “I can remember hearing Otis Redding, Mahalia, and Sam Cooke for the first time and listening to them over and over for months. Her father wrote her little songs and she sung them around the house. Johnny Copeland declared that his daughter would be a singer when she was still an infant, but it wasn’t until she was a teen that she became convinced.

“I do believe that I was destined to be a blues singer, but at first, I thought it was crazy to get on stage in front of people,” she says. “I thought I’d be a psychiatrist — I wanted to help people.” It wasn’t until her father’s failing health when she was 16, that she realized that it was time to take up the torch. “I realized that this was what I was supposed to do. Now I help people with my music.”

Indeed she does. From the motivational anthem of “Rise Up,” where she instructs, “When life hits you like a truck/ you gotta rise up,” to the healing acoustic blues of her father’s “Circumstances,” which she interprets with rousing spirit, Copeland’s music serves as a road map guiding listeners through life’s challenges. It also provides a convincing demonstration of the genre’s ability to grow with changing times. “I’d like blues to be played on mainstream radio,” says Copeland. “I’d like to see blues on the regular pop charts, not just the blues charts. I’d like it to do as well as all the genres.”

Ultimately, it’s up to music fans and music-industry leaders whether blues accomplishes all of those objectives, but Copeland is determined to do her part. “I want listeners to know that they’re listening to my life. I want them to feel the passion that I have for this music.”

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

The Simpsons Sing The Blues was Chris Canas‘ first blues CD purchase. The 1990 album, featuring the infamous “Do The Bartman,” qualifies as an extremely unusual pick for an accomplished blues musician like Canas, but it’s an intriguing reflection of his background. The Detroit-born singer/guitarist/cornetist’s introduction to the blues came with his uncle blasting B.B. King’s “The Thrill Is Gone” from his Camaro. “I was about 9 or 10 and I decided then that I would play the blues after I heard that song,” he says. King’s searing guitar leaps from The Simpsons Sing The Blues as did piano solos from another blues legend, Dr. John. For a kid born in 1984, the album was the era’s essential blues lesson.

“I learned the blues on my grandfather’s two-string bass,” says Canas. “My mother saw what I was doing with only two strings and said, ‘Let me see how you play with a whole guitar.’” The answer is a whole lot. Canas produced his first album, Shades Of Blue, at 16; was playing weekly live sets at a local nightclub by 17; and formed his band The Chris Canas Blues Revolution at 18. His recently released fifth record, She’s Breaking Me (C2), demonstrates well-earned depth and soul as well as Canas’ smoothly evocative vocals.

Opening with the uptempo urban blues of “Crank Dat Blues And Drive,” the 11 originals showcase his catchy songwriting and the Blues Revolution’s tight playing. “Trouble In Paradise” serves a convincing tale of suspicion powered by soulful belting and engaging storytelling. Other standouts feature Canas’ heartfelt vocals that seem to reach down into his guts, pouring out pain. “Who The Hell Are You” crackles with melancholy and the title tune kicks up irresistible, funk-filled guitar riffs accented with palpably despondent belting. There’s a fresh switch midway through, with “Fine As Wine” background vocalist Angie Cottingham singing lead with breezy, light vocals. The fact that Cottingham is Canas’ mother adds a whole other, new-millennium Partridge Family aspect to the sound.

“Some of the lyrics can be weird to sing with your mother,” Canas explains of why he doesn’t typically broadcast who she is. “People usually assume that’s she’s my wife and that I’m at least 40,” he says. (Canas’ wife often photographs live gigs while his 4- and 5-year-olds sing along and monitor his band cues.) “My music is very family focused — it doesn’t have a lot of profanity or dark subjects.”

Canas live also straddles a wide spectrum of genres, including soul, country, and rock. He finds he usually has to tailor his sets to audience preferences and, in the Michigan clubs where he regularly plays, that rarely includes blues. “I have to adopt a lot to the listener’s tastes,” he says. “A lot of times they aren’t open to the blues.” That’s the reason that Canas likens himself to a blues soldier. He feels that he has to battle to get people to listen to the music. “I mix in a lot of genres to entice people into listening,” says Canas. “I’ll play something like Stevie Wonder’s ‘Superstition’ then slide into one of my songs. They give it more of a chance when I mix in with something else first.”

With a list of diverse influences that include Prince, B.B. King, Al Green, and Travis Tritt, Canas colors his sound with traces of soul and funk but it’s still clearly the blues. “My ultimate goal is to keep the blues alive. I feel like its current state is similar to if you made some Kool-Aid and didn’t put enough sugar in it. It’s just barely out there. I want the blues to be on the radio all the time, I want to be in videos and movies. I just love it. I absolutely love it.”

BLUES FEST: A little shorter this year, but here are the must sees:

Taildragger: A classic urban-blues showman with a distinctive voice, be sure to catch this Arkansas-born belter, said to have received his name from Holwin’ Wolf for always being late to shows.
Zora Young’s Tribute to Wolf and Sunnyland: With the passing of Koko, there just aren’t many great woman blues singers out there, but the Mississippi-born, gospel-bred Young is one of the few.

Sugar Blue Band: Grammy Award-winning harp wizard Sugar Blue puts on a show that’s not to be missed: blazing riffs and great storytelling combine for a singular sound.

David “Honeyboy” Edwards: One of the last remaining Delta country-blues singers, Edwards’ 70-odd years of living history is alone worth a listen.

Chicago Blues — A Living History: A can’t-miss jam between Billy Boy Arnold, Billy Branch, John Primer, Lurrie Bell, and Carlos Johnson.

Bobby Rush: A renowned live performer, Rush’s brand of flamboyant, soul-tinged blues will mesmerize.

Vivian and Vance “Guitar” Kelly: Classic and precise Chicago blues guitar from Vance and rousing blues singing by daughter Vivian are guaranteed to be a treat.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

It’s telling that blues guitarist Chainsaw Dupont lists as turning points in his music career not listening to B.B. King as he was growing up in the Mississippi Delta or touring with Junior Wells in the ’90s, but hearing Sly & The Family Stone’s “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)” and jamming with Stevie Ray Vaughan. Steeped in classic blues but determined to add a modern twist, Dupont personifies the modern bluesman.

“Growing up in Mississippi, I heard a lot of blues,” says DuPont, who now lives in Evanston. “We listened to a lot of different things; I liked Johnny Cash and Chet Atkins.” Despite hearing music constantly on the Macomb cotton plantation he grew up on — including the boogie-woogie piano playing his mother learned from Fats Domino — it wasn’t until Dupont had moved to Chicago at 14 that he was inspired to become a professional guitar player.

“Me and a friend saw a guy playing Sly Stone’s ‘Thank You,’ it was the slow version,” he says. “We were at a party and I thought it was the most amazing thing I had ever heard. The sound was so unique, the riffs were so catchy. It was 4 in the morning but I borrowed a friend’s guitar and started playing from then on.”

That was 1972, and David “Chainsaw” Dupont has journeyed a long way from the Delta and late-night West Side parties. Noted for his original material and a sound he calls “Delta Crush,” Dupont is at the forefront of bringing authenticity and freshness to contemporary blues. “Delta Crush is industrial, hard-working-type blues,” he explains. “It’s the working-man blues. Looking at it from blues essentials, it’s like a compact version of the Mississippi blues I heard as a kid.”

This month he drops Acoustified/ Electrified, but in February, the 53-year-old released his fourth CD, The Real Guitar Hero (Chicago Blues Records), a collection of 11 live tracks showcasing his guitar chops and tying up all the connections he explored in his street trilogy albums, which highlighted the three major blues cities (Chicago, New Orleans, and Memphis). Poking fun at the video game as well as the “Real Folk Blues” series from the ’60s, The Real Guitar Hero demonstrates Dupont’s skill at both blues preservation and innovation.

Opening with the James Brown classic “Cold Sweat,” Dupont underscores his calling by channeling both Brown and King with hard-driving, funk-drenched riffs. An engaging songwriter, the guitarist couches an uptempo blues groove in a classic blues lament on “Saccharine”: “When I want some sugah baby/you give me saccharine/you seem as sweet as sugah but you ain’t the real thing/Your love is like a booty call that always comes collect/I been paying these charges baby/I ain’t got nothing’ left.”

There’s “N.O.,” a New Orleans tribute with a proper jazz layering and a rather clumsy rap, but perhaps the most striking tune on the CD is an intriguing cover of Smokey Robinson’s “I’ll Be Doggone.” It’s Smokey meets Albert King with a hot blues treatment of Marvin Gaye’s hit where Dupont strips the Motown polish and adds heaping doses of gritty, down-home flavor.

With Albert King and versions of Sly Stone’s funk all over the album, it’s almost the end when Dupont calls up his other influence, Stevie Ray Vaughan, on “Sweet As A Queen Bee’s Honeycomb,” with controlled, yet sizzling guitar riffs.

“I met Stevie Ray in 1981, at Tipitina’s,” says Dupont. “I was homeless at the time and I had been thinking, ‘What am I going to do? There’s so many guitar players out there.’ I had heard a lot about him, that he was the closest thing to Jimi Hendrix and I just walked up to him and said, ‘Hey, I want to play with you.’ He said, ‘Yeah man’ and we played ‘Voodoo Child’ and ‘Superstition.’ Pausing at the memory, Dupont says, “Stevie brought me back to Albert King. He had so much emotion when he played.” It was a hard blow to Dupont when Vaughan died in a helicopter crash in 1990. “I just put my guitar under my bed for two/three months after he passed. I felt his spirit coming to me saying, ‘You can’t stop playing, you got to continue.’ I put The Blues Warriors together shortly after then, in 1991.”

Chainsaw Dupont & The Blues Warriors have been quietly changing the face of urban blues ever since. After years of drifting and searching for his sound, Dupont has firmly established his blues identity from his name — “It takes a long time to cut down a tree with an axe, but a chainsaw is quick” — to his genre-bending, but still blues, music. “I saw a lot of shootings and sadness in Mississippi,” he says. “All of it gets expression in my music. I’m alive and well and able to play my music. What happened in my life experience is just added to the pot. I was born at the right place and time [under the 'bad sign' of Friday, August 13, 1957] to sing the blues. I believe it’s my destiny.”

Appearing: 5/21 at Lee’s Unleaded Blues (7401 S. Chicago) and 5/22 on the Chicago Blues Tour pub crawl (www.chicagobluestour.com).

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

A home represents the place where you feel nurtured and secure. It’s the one place where you know you are valued. Chicago offers the blues a home on many levels, but there’s no place where it’s valued more than on Steve Cushing’s “Blues Before Sunrise” radio program. For 30 years, Cushing has explored the richness of pre-World War II and early post-war blues with music and interviews during his five-hour, weekly program. Nationally syndicated by 75 stations, “Blues Before Sunrise” attracts blues fans and scholars all over the country but it remains a Chicago institution. Last month, the influence and reach of Cushing’s program just grew even wider with the publication of Blues Before Sunrise: The Radio Interviews (University Of Illinois Press).

“I’ve had these interviews in the archives for years, but it took me four years to write intros for all the transcripts,” says Cushing. “I had three considerations when selecting what interviews to include: Number one is that they were long-form interviews at least 90 minutes long; two, they had to be good; three, the subject had never been documented before.”

Those criteria left chapters about eight significant but little-known musicians and four chapters about a club owner, a DJ, and a record producer. “I’ve done about 150 interviews for the show, I wanted to present things we’ve done on the air as well as other aspects of the industry,” he says. “The first two book segments cover blues singers from the pre-war and post-war eras. 1965 is the cut-off point because by that time, rock was in full bloom and after that time, the artists were influenced more by rock than blues.”

At 245 pages, Blues Before Sunrise: The Radio Interviews supplies an accessible archive of blues history. And you don’t have to be a well-versed blues fan to enjoy it. Cushing arranges the musicians by dividing them into “Ancient Age,” for pre-WWII performers, “Postwar Glory” for the musicians who worked during the late ’40s and ’50s, and “Esoterica” for non-artists. Each chapter has an introduction and the questions Cushing posed to the artist along with the answers. Most of the people featured died over the last two decades and their interviews provide a peek into a time and lifestyle that no longer exists. Besides insight into the creation of classic blues tunes and the stories behind blues sessions, shows, and juke joints, Blues Before Sunrise offers history that is rarely examined.

You may not have ever heard about Yank Rachell and other rare, blues mandolinists, but Rachell’s fascinating account of trading a pig to get his first mandolin and playing alongside Sonny Boy Williamson and Robert Jr. Lockwood, opens the book. Other standout interviews are Alberta Hunter and how she recorded before microphones (singing through a hole in the wall while a machine cut the wax), and Tommy Brown, the main influence on James Brown, who was married to Anna Mae Bullock (Tina Turner) before Ike. Brown convinced Ike to pay for their divorce so that Ike could marry Tina.

Of all the book’s interviews, Cushing says Hunter was the most memorable. Besides Ethel Waters, Hunter was the only singer whose career managed to transcend the classic blues era of the ’20s and ’30s. “Alberta was notoriously reluctant to talk about her life,” says Cushing. “She opened up with me because I knew what I was talking about and she had just gotten out of the hospital and was in the mood to look back. Her interview was the most unforgettable because of the process I had to go through to get it. I talked to lots of people and jumped through many hoops to interview her.”

Another interview Cushing will never forget is Texan pianist Grey Ghost, who graces the book’s cover. “Grey Ghost was an itinerant piano player and they had a high mortality rate,” he says. “Women were crazy about these piano players. Their husbands and boyfriends were jealous and they’d kill them. Grey Ghost gives the rules for safe living for piano players.

“This book isn’t just about these musicians’ careers, it’s about the world they lived in.”

Cushing attended the “University Of Bronzeville” to gain his far-reaching blues knowledge. Veteran listeners called into the show supplying background, obscure artists, and definitions for cultural references in the songs. Over the years, his listeners have helped introduce him to a world he only vaguely knew and now he returns the favor for readers of this book, which is first in a trilogy. “I look at Blues Before Sunrise as the first installment in a series of three books,” says Cushing. “I’m putting together the next one and it’s called Tales Of The Blues Revival. It’s about when white folks started getting interested in the blues, causing a tidal wave of blues enthusiasm and research in the late ’50s and early ’60s.”

This is also the era Cushing grew up in, which has profoundly influenced his musical tastes. “I started playing drums in grade school and all the music I listened to was directly descended from the blues,” he says. “Musicians I liked were Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Jefferson Airplane. It was early rock and I was able to trace it back to the blues. I didn’t know there was a tradition of sitting in with blues artists but I did. I worked as a drummer for a living for years. I played with Smokey Smothers, Magic Slim, Lee Jackson, Good Rockin’ Charles.”

Today, Cushing doesn’t listen to any music made after 1965, especially current blues. “What’s being passed off as blues now has nothing to do with the blues I like,” he says. “The music that I like has subtlety and nuance and all that’s gone from music today.”

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

Although she didn’t hear secular music until she was a teen, Valencia Bey always knew she wanted to be a blues/rock diva. She grew up in Chicago but her musical chops were formed in the Mississippi Delta, where she’d spend summers with her grandparents. There, she absorbed the intricacies of gospel music that would transform into blues once it left the church.

Appearing: Friday, April 16th at New Checkerboard Lounge in Chicago.

On her second CD, Coffee And Conversation (Brown Girl), the blues and several of its babies pump through the 12 tracks. From the driving blues of opener “Hello Sunshine,” to the jazz undertones of “Already Home,” and the rockin’ blues of “Steps To The Sun,” Coffee And Conversation showcases blues in its many forms. “My grandmother and mother referred to blues as ‘that raunchy music,’ but I realized that the structure of blues ands gospel were the same, just different lyrics.”

Still, her parents didn’t allow much secular music in the house. Bey heard mostly gospel mainstays like the Thompson Community Singers and Andrae Crouch and very little B.B. King and Z.Z. Hill. “We listened to a lot of gospel music. I heard it in church, on the radio, and at home. My uncle and his family had a musical gospel group in Mississippi and I’d travel with them to shows. I was surrounded by music and musicians and it all seeped in.”

By the time her older brother introduced the spectrum of popular music when she was 14, Bey had selected Tina Tuner, Patti LaBelle, and Nona Hendrix as singing influences and Aretha Franklin, Bill Withers, and Curtis Mayfield as songwriting mentors. “I liked reading liner notes and lyrics,” she says. “I had been writing songs since I was 8 and I learned to rewrite and rewrite. I listened to all of these artists to figure out how they did it.”

Her biggest problem wasn’t figuring out how to write songs. Bey comes from a family of educators and her mother insisted that she couldn’t make a living playing music. Instead, Bey was expected to get her education degree. She refused and moved out to attend Jackson State University, majoring in music. While in college deep in the Bible Belt, Bey considered being a gospel artist and wrote spirituals and a gospel opera. She won a Christian songwriting contest in 2002 and was recruited by a gospel label rep soon after. But the agent left the label after a few months and nobody else at the company stepped in to sign her.

Not getting signed by a gospel label proved to be a good thing for Bey because she had secretly longed to play the guitar and sing rock, blues, and soul. “I always wanted to play but I didn’t see a lot of black women with a guitar growing up. It was always the men,” she says. “I will never forget my uncle sitting down to play the guitar after a long day on the farm. He got so much joy from it.”

Eight years ago, shortly after her uncle passed away, she was drawn to an instrument retailer, bought a guitar, and promptly signed up for lessons. “Once I started playing guitar, I really left gospel music alone. Mainstream gospel and Christian music are too limited for me. I want to sing other types of music.”

And sing she does. Graced with a husky, sinuous voice that recalls Oleta Adams, Odetta, and a little Joan Armatrading, Bey tackles bluesy laments, rock anthems, and soul ballads with relish. On “Young And Beautiful,” a rock ode to female self-awareness, she belts out the chorus with all the power of Tina Turner; on “I’m Falling (Again)” she glides over the blues tune with a fire that recalls Koko Taylor herself.

“As a child and a teen, when I imagined myself singing on stage, I imagined singing with Patti LaBelle and Tina Turner, Nona Hendrix and Grace Jones. They were my wild idols. I guess that was the rock chick in me, screaming to get out.” On stage, Bey combines the style of many of her idols, channeling blues divas and rock chicks with cascading guitar riffs and vocals that flow from sultry to pounding.

The deep emotions that inspire Bey’s music also drive her to offer options for music fans. “I don’t feel like someone who appreciates real music has a lot of options,” she says. “Who’s talking about the issues I’m going through about marriage, divorce? I feel like there’s a void in songwriting from a female point of view.” Bey focuses on providing that point of view for her audience as well as songs that flow from her heart. “I think artistry and simplicity is sometimes lost in popular music. You don’t have to have a lot of noise and bells and whistles to touch people.”

NEW RELEASE: Nick Moss releases his eighth CD, Privileged (Blue Bella), on March 16th. The album showcases a solid collection of blues grooves, with Moss’ original “Georgia Redsnake” a catchy standout. The release party is set for the 20th at Buddy Guy’s Legends.

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates

There was a time when Grammy-winning, blues harp master Sugar Blue believed there were only certain types of music appropriate for a blues musician to play. He came up listening to and being molded by icons like Memphis Slim, Muddy Waters, Willie Dixon, and Junior Wells. By the time he was in his late 20s, he had played with all these legends. The only kind of music he ever heard them play was straight-up blues. So that’s all Blue really played. That is, until the release of his latest CD, Threshold (Beeble), which aptly represents his pushing through a musical break point.

“There was a time when I said, ‘I can’t play this kind of music, I’m a blues man!’” he says. “I sort of pigeonholed myself. I grew up in the old school. I was always a rock fan and a Motown fan. I’d listen to Smokey Robinson and say, ‘I can’t do that kind of stuff.’ I was scared to venture out. The paintbrush hit me all over but when it came time to get to the canvas, it was only one hue, and that’s blue.” Even though he’s appeared on classic Rolling Stones’ albums Emotional Rescue and Tattoo You and played with jazz veteran Stan Getz, it never occurred to him to blend other genres into his blues. After decades of pumping out classic blues, Blue finally realized something. “Blues is the root and all the rest are the fruit, as Willie Dixon said so well. This is the time I decided to deal with the fruits,” he declares. “I’ve come to a place where I’ll dare to do anything.”

That includes tackling love songs and elements of funk, rock, and jazz. Threshold is Blue’s fifth release and stands as his most adventurous. The 11-track album features nine songs co-written by Blue and delivers a melodic demonstration of the various paths of the blues tradition. Backed by a tight band including noted guitarist Rico McFarland, Blue delivers a harp tour de force.

Opening with an uptempo tune with pop accents, “Living Your Love” sets the tone for the CD’s adventurous focus. There’s hot New Orleans funk on “Noel News,” smooth jazz guitar licks on the James Cotton tribute “Cotton Tree,” and a simmering ballad on “Tonight.” But the highlight is the biting ant-war commentary “Stop The War.” Opening with birds chirping and bombs exploding amid blistering guitar rhythms, the tune skillfully blends news commentary, Blue’s sharp harp notes, and blistering, gospel-tinged backup vocals urging, “Stop the war/kill no more.”

The anger floats through the lyrics and it’s clear Blue wrote the song from personal experience. “I lost a lot of friends in the Viet Nam War,” he says. “In this current war, I was playing at Rosa’s and this young soldier, all of 18-years old, came in. He had just graduated and was pumped up about going to war. I could see beyond the bravado and I saw the fear in his eyes. His girlfriend came up to me and said, ‘They’re going to kill him, they’re going to send home pieces of him,’ and she started to cry. That really affected me. I thought, ‘We have to work out a way to to solve our problems and not butcher each other.’”

Threshold showcases Blue’s experimentation with progressive blues and its variations, but it also serves up hard driving, straight-ahead blues. “Ramblin,” an old-fashioned instrumental, sizzles with an innovative harmonica duel between Blue and himself. The reverent Junior Wells cover “Messin’ With The Kid,” rollicks with the required amount of bravado.

Growing up with a mother who sang and danced at the legendary Apollo Theater and being surrounded by luminaries like Billie Holiday and Muddy Waters, Blue absorbed the necessary elements of becoming an accomplished musician at a young age. He devoted years to studying and playing with harp masters Big Walter Horton, Cotton, Carey Bell, and Wells. He is now generally considered one of the most accomplished blues harpists in the world, boasting fluidity, clarity of tone, and speed unlike any other. When asked about the difference between the old-school bluesman he worked with and new-millennium performers, he insists there’s not much difference.

“The new millennium bluesman is very much like the old bluesman,” he says. “Basically, you’re talking about what you feel and what’s going on around you. A bluesman is a descendent of the African griot. He has to take what’s important and what’s affecting us today and connect it to the future. Willie Dixon said that the most important part of a bluesman is the man. You can’t understand the blues until you’re a man. To be a blues man is to be a philosopher. You can’t understand life until you’ve lived life. There’s more to this music than the notes. It encompasses our humanity. That’s why the blues has been able to produce so many disparate forms, from Charlie Parker to The Wailers. There’s really nothing you can do that’s new. You can only try to make your own kind of strew. The ingredients are the same, it just depends on the cook.”

– Rosalind Cummings-Yeates