GARY CLARK,JR.

variety of styles. Burdon, for instance, finds
the fragile, searching top end of his vocal
range for “Devil And Jesus,” a lean rock
song with a deep blues theme. “Wait”
explores that sense of raw vulnerability even
more deeply, as Burdon’s pleading vocal is
surrounded by this dusty acoustic lonesomeness.
Later, Jon Cleary sits in for a
New Orleans-infused tune called “River Is
Rising,” and a generous, open-hearted take
on Marc Cohn’s “Medicine Man.” “In The
Ground” plays out like a gospel rave up. In
“Bo Diddley Special” he bids a fond farewell
to key influence Bo Diddley, complete with a
perfectly attenuated Diddley-shuffle beat
courtesy of co-producing drummer Braunagel.
While “27 Forever” is Burdon’s pondering
about all of those doomed rock stars
who passed at age 27. All of that feels like a
preamble, though, to those times when Burdon
is in a full-throated roar.
In the end, five decades on from his
breakout moment in “We’ve
Gotta Get Out Of This Place,” Burdon is still
surrounded by damnable fools who just
don’t get it, liars who must be exposed, and
politicians headed for their comeuppance.
It’s clear that Burdon still feels a fiery reading
of the wrongs is a good place to start.
– Nick DeRiso
BARBARA CARR
Keep The Fire Burning
Catfood
After decades of obscurity (including a short
period on Chess) Barbara Carr started to
make a name for herself in the nineties. The
seventy-one year old Carr was born in St.
Louis and received an early break when she
caught the attention (of the too often overlooked)
bandleader and sax player Oliver
Sain. The details of her discography are
vague, but Keep The Fire Burning seems to
be Carr’s twelfth digital release. She also
appears on a long list of soul compilation
collections, including two of her own Best
Of anthologies. Here Carr employs Catfood
label-mate Johnny Rawls and label owner
Bob Trenchard to co-produced. In addition,
Trenchard plays bass throughout, while
Rawls makes one appearance on a duet
with Carr. All of the eleven tunes are originals
mostly authored by Trenchard and/or
Rawls, though they only collaborate once.
The opening “Hanging On By A
Thread” is easily the grittiest of this bunch.
With churning chords coming from Johnny
McGhee’s guitar and tasteful keyboard fills
from Dan Ferguson, Carr sounds youthful
and vibrant making this tune an earcatching
start to this retro-soul CD. One
of two of Carr’s blues additions is Rawls’
“I Got The Blues” that cites Little Milton and
Carr’s self-proclaimed understanding of the
blues. About halfway through the album’s
formula horn arrangements become a bit
repetitive and predictable and are somewhat
reminiscent of what Malaco Records
did on many of their soulful albums. Rawls
duets with Carr on his ballad “Hold On To
What You Got” that is expectedly generational
and nothing exceptional, their chemistry
is also lacking. The second blues nod
also comes from Rawls’ pen “You Give Me
The Blues” and it’s really not a blues tune
that makes claims to blues in lyrics only.
Trenchard’s “What You Gonna Do” is pretty
funky and the horns add good color,
McGhee again tosses in catchy riffs and
short solos, and the band percolates nicely
all the way through. Trenchard’s “Sweet
Talking Snake” closes the album in a soulful
way with horn charts from saxophone
player Andy Roman and trumpeter Mike
Middleton, the lyrics are mildly risqué,
which were once part of Carr’s style.
Carr (once again) is back on the
scene, though I doubt this recording will do
much to reignite her career.
– Bob Putignano
MICHAEL HILL’S BLUES MOB
Goddesses And Gold Redux
JSP
For those who may have overlooked the
original 2005 release of guitar/vocalist
Michael Hill’s offbeat musical montage,
Goddesses And Gold, despair not. Goddesses
And Gold Redux is a fresh opportunity
to experience another farrago of Hill’s
hard-edged blues/rock, impromptu street
conversation, and left-leaning sociopolitical
musings. Possibly the most erratic disc that
blues fans are likely to find among the bargain
racks, this one deserves stars for
sheer quirkiness.
Showbiz calls it an “act” for a reason,
and Hill plays the role of unctuous Master
of Ceremonies to the preening hilt. The
man doesn’t so much sing into a microphone
as he does behave in front of one,
interjecting himself into the mix with glib
verbal asides and intermittent stage patter
directed at both band members and listening
audience alike. Hill’s dialogue recalls
Frank Zappa’s use of Sprechstimme (spoken
voice), in which Zappa mimics sleazy
lounge lizards and golden-throated TV
pitchmen in wacky niche tunes like
“Dancing Fool,” “Cosmic Debris,” and
scores of others.
That’s not to say Redux contains anything
remotely as entertaining as Zappa’s
sardonic wit or deft musical turns. But Hill
does utter some very peculiar things. The
following duologue introduces the stuttering
funk jam, “Specialization:”
“And she said, ‘Sweet Mikey, looks like
you been slimming down, down to your
fighting weight.’ I said, ‘No, baby girl, I’m
getting down to my loving weight!’”
Hill uses similar jabber to usher in the
album’s only straight-up blues number,
“Mr. Hubert Sumlin,” a track that features
the real Hubert Sumlin taking a star turn
on the guitar solo.
“And not only are we celebrating, people,
but this is our lucky day! ‘Cause we
have Mister Hubert Sumlin in the house.
That’s right, baby, the man is in the house!”
About the only tunes that Hill’s showman
routine doesn’t reduce to novelty song
status are the full-tilt rockers, “Let The
Ladies Have The Floor,” and “New York
Doll.” On these tracks, Hill dials down the
vocal extemporizing to deliver some mighty
BLUES REVUE 51