Month: January 2014

Uncle Neil’s at it again, issuing the seventh disc in his live Archives Performance Series. Once more he’s alone with his Martins and a piano (a “really outta sight” Steinway), this time post-Thanksgiving 1970 at the erstwhile D.C. club in the title.

For those keeping score, Cellar Door is Disc 2.5 in the series. Culled from a six show residency, the set leans heavily on the just-released After the Gold Rush. But fodder for fanatics includes a pre-Harvest “Old Man” and a piano-accompanied “Cinnamon Girl.” Somewhat of a bummer, Young includes “Bad Fog Of Loneliness” and “See The Sky About To Rain,” both featured on the previously released Disc 3 recorded just seven weeks later. And except for a bit of period-perfect laconic stoner charm before Buffalo Springfield’s “Flying On The Ground Is Wrong,” there’s little between-song patter.

What makes Cellar Door well worth the price of admission, however, is its intimacy. Muffled coughs, three-dimensional hammer-ons and pull-offs, time tapped out on a soundboard, even fret buzz – the audio is fantastic (despite what Young tells us about digital) and underscores the songs’ timelessness.

Young fans are fortunate Winnipeg’s finest had the foresight to be an obsessive archivist.

This article originally appeared in VG‘s March ’14 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

It’s difficult to critique compilations, especially those that include material from various labels: you never know what licensing restrictions were imposed, which cuts the A&R folks would’ve included but weren’t able to. It’s even harder when the artist in question changed your life.

Mike Bloomfield had that effect on people. For a Jewish kid playing the blues in the mid ’60s, that’s no mean feat. But regardless of who his influences were and how proficient he became at various styles that preceded him, there was guitar playing before Bloomfield and guitar playing after Bloomfield. It’s as simple as that.

This Columbia/Legacy threeCD/one-DVD box is the biggest overview ever devoted to blues and rock’s first real guitar hero. Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, and later Jimmy Page would wear that mantel, but Bloomfield perfected the blues while re-energizing it, melding it with rock, and then taking it to uncharted territory. And you can ask George Gruhn or Dan Erlewine who singlehandedly not only raised the prices of Les Pauls but essentially created a market for vintage electrics that hadn’t previously existed.
In the 36-page booklet and hour-long DVD, Bloomfield’s praises are sung by everyone from Clapton to Bob Dylan to Miles Davis. But there’s already plenty of proof in the 45 tracks that make up the guitar pudding.

It’s understandable that much of the material comes from Columbia’s vaults. Bloomfield was signed by the label’s Svengali, John Hammond, and recorded with Dylan. His band the Electric Flag, his groundbreaking Super Session, and subsequent live recordings with co-adventurer (and this box’s producer) Al Kooper were on the label. Between his Hammond sessions (included here for the first time are his audition tapes, along with two cuts by his band with Charlie Musselwhite, only released posthumously) and the Flag and Super Session was when Bloomfield made the most impact, with the Paul Butterfield Blues Band. They simply stormed out of Chicago, ruled the Fillmore circuit, and turned rock music on its head. Only three Butterfield cuts are included (one being the 13-minute tour de force, “East-West”), so, buy the first two Butterfield albums and concentrate on this show.

Besides the Hammond audition showing Bloomers’ acoustic prowess (which he’d return to late in his career), some of the more interesting gems here are a Kooper remix of the “Like A Rolling Stone” backing track and a scathing alternate take of Dylan’s “Tombstone Blues,” two unreleased live cuts by the short-lived Flag, Bloomfield/Kooper taking on a T-Bone Walker slow blues, and Bloomfield’s slide reunited with Dylan in 1980 for “The Groom’s Still Waiting At The Altar.”

Sweet Blues, the DVD documentary, is well done, with rare footage and current and archival interviews with Dylan, Kooper, Musselwhite, Bill Graham, B.B. King, Elvin Bishop, Carlos Santana, Nick Gravenites, Jorma Kaukonen, Jack Casady, and Bloomfield’s mother and brother, as well as Michael himself. The only criticism of the DVD is that it will leave Bloomfield fans wanting more (please release this as a separate DVD with bonus material – namely the rest of these interviews!).

Bloomfield’s drug problems were well-known, and he overdosed in 1981, only 37 years old. As Kooper sings in a hidden-track tribute, “They just don’t make ’em like that anymore.”

This article originally appeared in VG‘s March ’14 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

Toby Keith’s previous two albums – Bullets in the Gun (2010) and Clancy’s Tavern (2011) – were two of his finest, enhanced by first-rate original material, powerful vocals, and restrained, hard-edged production. His skill at writing miniature dramas has served him well and does so again. The title song, a bartender’s thoughtful musings on the troubled souls he serves carries emotional clout, bookended by the lighthearted “The Size I Wear,” a sly paean to barroom pickups.

The tale of “Scat Cat,” a reprobate hellraiser unable to stay out of trouble, holds together nicely, its rocking arrangement enhanced by Eric Darken’s slashing guitar. The philosophical “Get Got,” by Keith and frequent writing partner Bobby Pinson, cleverly incorporates time-tested homilies about life. The ballads are equally strong. “Haven’t Seen The Last Of You,” “Missed You Just Right,” and the Keith-Scotty Emerick tune “You Ain’t Alone” are all pained, passionate reflections on lost love.

He can afford to bypass two of Nashville’s three most over-recorded and clichéd current song topics: hot women and beer (the third involves pickup trucks). Unfortunately, “I Like Girls That Drink Beer” and the chugging “Haven’t Had A Drink All Day,” are Keith and Pinson at their most formulaic. At least the latter has some first-rate guitar from Brent Mason, Kenny Greenberg, and Russ Pahl. But not even Mason, Greenberg, and an engaging Dixieland arrangement can save “Cold Beer Country,” which is more beer commercial than drinking song.

Acts at the peak of Nashville stardom, who own their own label and produce themselves, are free to do what they please. Keith uses that freedom wisely and the album’s high points prove it. He doesn’t need to waste time writing and recording throwaways. Leave that to the many lightweight writers and singers on Music Row.

This article originally appeared in VG‘s Feb. ’13 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

Born in rural Kentucky in 1954, Ricky Skaggs (named for “I Love Lucy’s” Ricky Ricardo) stands today as a supremely versatile musician. With his band Kentucky Thunder and his own record label, he focuses on the traditional bluegrass that nurtured him from boyhood on. That journey, from bluegrass child prodigy to admired young sideman to ’80s mainstream country star, balanced by the ups and occasional downs of his personal life, makes for interesting reading.

Among memories of various Nashville stars, his recollections of the pillars of bluegrass particularly stand out. A friend of Bill Monroe, Flatt and Scruggs, his former boss Ralph Stanley and one-time Stanley bandmate Keith Whitley, he captures their human and their lighter sides.

His memories of fine instruments like his first Gibson mandolin and a 1924 F-5 Loar he took out a bank loan to purchase are especially enjoyable.

Reflecting on the excitement of discovering Django Reinhardt, Skaggs recalls marveling at his music’s similarities to bluegrass. Any musician can relate to his ’80s dilemma of lacking a lead guitarist for one tour and having to get his own guitar chops up to speed. Too often, such memoirs give the music short shrift. Not this time.

This article originally appeared in VG‘s February ’13 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.