The Philosophy of Modern Song, Bob Dylan, Simon & Schuster
I’ve been a Dylan fan for over fifty years, have seen him in concert on numerous occasions, including that memorable night in London’s Earl Court in 1981. I enjoyed his Chronicles Volume 1 and hoped against hope we’d see volume 2 sometime.
So I was delighted when my daughter bought me The Philosophy of Modern Song for my birthday. The book is sumptuously presented, in large size hardback format, with a glossy dust cover and beautifully weighted pages. It’s jam-packed with lovely illustrations and photographs, all in a matt finish. So, as a physical book, it definitely makes for a nice present.
It’s not, as you might imagine, any sort of dissertation on the art of modern song-writing. Rather, it consists of Dylan’s musings on sixty-six songs, mostly from the nineteen fifties and sixties, and I consumed the book day-by-day beside my Amazon Echo, asking Alexa to play each song as I went along. I confess to not being familiar with most of the songs, so it was a delight to dip in to this cornucopia of Dylan’s musical whimsy and be transported to another musical era.
Dylan can write well – he’s won the Nobel prize for literature, so I guess that oughtn’t to be a surprise – and gives us two or three pages on each song. If you’ve ever listened to Dylan’s Theme Time Radio Show, you can practically hear Dylan read the words to you.
Often we get some background on the artist – so I now know a little bit about a Bobby Darin or a Marty Robbins – as well as Dylan’s thoughts about the song. These can be just sheer whimsy, or amusing, or almost philosophical. Sometimes it’s quite unintelligible (try his comments on religion on the song If You Don’t Know Me By Now); but there are occasional moments of deep insight – I liked this from the commentary on Harry McClintock’s Jesse James: “Criminals can wear badges, army uniforms, or even sit in the House of Representatives. They can be billionaires, corporate raiders or stockbroker analysts. Even medical doctors.”
And his take on Edwin Starr’s War, one of the longest essays in the book, is thoughtful and measured, with some forthright comment on American two Gulf wars and the responsibilities of democracy.
There’s genuine warmth here too, for artists like Johnny Cash, Dean Martin and Roy Orbison, and the sheer depth of Dylan’s knowledge of modern American music is nothing short of remarkable.
But there are also moments that are jarring. Take a comment on Elvis’s Money, Honey for example. Dylan says, “ultimately money doesn’t matter.” Well, OK for you to say, who’s just sold your back catalogue for about $200m. So rich that Dylan can be out of touch with the majority of people in the world who hardly have enough money to get by and to whom money matters a heck of a lot.
Dylan also seems, at times, to have a rather dark imagination. At times I was brought up short by his interpretation of a song, which appeared to me to be much more innocent than Dylan’s thought world.
And then there is the sexism. Now to be fair, when you’re commenting on songs from the 50s or 60s that now feel rather sexist, your comments might simply be reflective of the lyrics. Nevertheless the comments about hard women, teasing women, women with a short fuse, women waiting for her man to come home from work, “foxy” women, two-faced beauties…and so it goes on…become more than a little wearing. I really can’t imagine any woman enjoying this.
Particularly jarring is the chapter on Johnnie Taylor’s 1973 Cheaper to Keep Her. This is an obnoxious little song and even the choice of it is questionable, because Dylan certainly doesn’t use it to be critical of it in any way. Actually he doubles down on the sexism and androcentrism of the song, going off on an extended riff about marriage and divorce, which ends up giving a shout out to polygamy. This is pretty distasteful, as is his appallingly insensitive comment about childless marriages: “A couple who has no children, that’s not a marriage. They are just two friends.”
Out of sixty-six songs in the book, remarkably only four are by women. The Nina Simone song Dylan chose was Please Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood, which actually was written by a man, Horace Ott, on the occasion of feeling misunderstood by his wife after they’d had an argument (poor man). Simone changed the lyric from “Baby, don’t you know I’m human, And I’ve got thoughts like any other man” to “anyone“. Still, a pretty poor choice from all the great songs Nina Simone sang,
Still, Dylan does note insightfully, “But the song has taken on more meanings as Nina’s measured, defiant delivery has been adopted by some as an understated social equality anthem. Songs can do that…”
So, it’s a pretty mixed bag from Dylan. A great idea presenting a rather random catalogue of old songs for today’s readers to check out and enjoy. Some hugely enjoyable and at times insightful and amusing comments from Dylan. But hand-in-hand we get some truly jarring and distasteful moments. Oh, and did I mention the f-bombs here and there? Not really needed, Bob.
There’s a lot to enjoy here, but sadly much to skip over. Someone tell him, the times, they are a-changin’.
There are no shortage of cover albums – call them tribute albums – of Bob Dylan songs. Over the last 20 years or so, in particular, there have been a slew of them. These have included both well-known artists paying homage with a complete album of Dylan songs, and a number of compilation albums of various artists performing Dylan songs. Three of these I particularly like are the 1993 The 30th Anniversary Concert Celebration, 2001’s A Nod to Bob and 2003’s Gotta Serve Somebody: The Gospel Songs of Bob Dylan.
But it’s the single artist albums we want to highlight here, and in particular those done by women artists, which, in my view, are particularly good. Interesting that that should be the case, given the accusations from time to time that some of Dylan’s lyrics are sexist (Just Like A Woman comes to mind). The man is, of course, now over 80 and his early songs stretch back to another age, about 60 years ago, and might be expected to share the broad values of society. Anyway, that hasn’t stopped women enjoying, performing and recording Dylan songs, and we’re thankful for that, listening to the following albums. Here is Down at the Crossroads list of the 12 best.
Odetta, Odetta Sings Dylan (1965)
It was Odetta who set Bob Dylan on his path as a folk singer. After hearing one of her records, Dylan said, “Right there and then I went out and traded my electric guitar and amplifier for a flat-top Gibson.” In 1961, he performed for Odetta, who told him she thought he had a chance to make it in folk music. As big a star as Odetta was at the time, she was eventually eclipsed by Dylan and in 1965 she recorded what was the first major album of Dylan covers. It included some of Dylan’s famed protest songs like Masters of War and Blowin’ In the Wind, as well as some tracks that are now quite obscure, like Long Ago, Far Away and Paths of Victory.
Judy Collins, Judy Collins Sings Dylan (1993)
Collin’s soaring vocals work surprisingly well in this set of mostly early Dylan songs. Collins sang with Dylan on a number of occasions in the ‘60s, and Dylan wrote a song for her, I’ll Keep it with Mine. Here she includes I Believe in You, which seems to lose the force of Dylan’s passionate confession of faith and Like a Rolling Stone, which takes the sting out of the resentment in the song, but nevertheless sounds pretty well. And yes, she does Just Like a Woman, which is quite beautiful.
Barb Jungr, Every Grain of Sand (2002)
In this and her 2011 Man in the Long Black Coat, Barb Jungr gives Dylan a throughgoing jazz treatment. This may be the most unusual of the covers’ albums, with Jungr’s well-phrased vocals, the cabaret piano accompaniments and the jazzy arrangements. She includes some classic songs like Blowin’ in the Wind and Masters of War as well as some lesser known songs from the canon. Perhaps the most unusual one served up is You Gotta Serve Somebody.
Mary Lee’s Corvette, Blood on the Tracks, 2002
This album by Mary-Lee Kortes’ band focuses on just one album of Dylan songs. At first glance, Blood on the Tracks, arguably Dylan’s greatest album would appear to be a brave one to cover. Mary Lee is a cross between a country and rock singer and has more than enough vocal chops to pull off these songs. It’s enjoyable stuff, although I found Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts jarring – seemingly not knowing what to do with the song, the band chose to send it up with mocking imitations of Dylan’s singing inflections.
Maria Muldaur, Heart of Mine: The Love Songs of Bob Dylan, 2006
Fine collection of Dylan love songs like You Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go, I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight and Make You Feel My Love are given some delicious blues-soaked vocal treatment from the ever-entertaining Ms. Muldaur. Muldaur, who played with Dylan in the ’60s, said, ““It occurred to me that while Dylan is mostly known for his scathing, perceptive, brutally honest and insightful songs of social consciousness, he has in fact, over the years, written many deeply passionate, poignant and moving love songs.” She brings her usual passion and heartfelt approach in an album well worth checking out.
Janet Planet, Sings The Bob Dylan Songbook Vol. 1, 2010
Janet Planet is a successful Australian jazz singer and her 13 Dylan songs are given the full late-night jazz treatment. She restricts herself to the classics from Dylan’s early years, all songs that can stand the sort of drastic rearrangements she gives them. Planet is a first-class singer and her performance on Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat is top notch.
Thea Gilmore, John Wesley Harding, 2011
English artist Gilmore has taken a rather different approach to covering Dylan songs, here focusing on a single album, Dylan’s 1967 John Wesley Harding. Although Dylan’s album was well received at the time, it flew in the face of what other major rock artist were doing. Said Jon Landau, “Dylan seems to feel no need to respond to the predominate [sic] trends in pop music at all. And he is the only major pop artist about whom this can be said.” The songs lend themselves to the more acoustic approach of the original album and to the Gilmore singer-songwriter take on them. The songs are timeless and Thea Gilmore’s reflective take on them works extremely well. Her I Dreamed I Saw St Augustine is simply brilliant and the stripped back I Am A Lonesome Hobo gives you an opportunity to appreciate the quality of her voice.
Joan Osborne, Songs of Bob Dylan, 2017
Joan Osborne famously and quite beautifully covered Dylan’s Man in the Long Black Coat in her acclaimed and Grammy-nominated album Relish in 1995. Ten of the thirteen songs from Dylan’s early period sit alongside Ring Them Bells, High Water, Dark Eyes and Tryin’ to Get to Heaven. Osborne’s distinctive, world-weary voice gives a wholly enjoyable and fresh interpretation to some classic songs.
Betty LaVette, Things Have Changed, 2018
Betty LaVette brings her lifetime of experience as a soul and blues singer to bear on a judiciously chosen set of Dylan songs. As soon as you hear her launch into Things Have Changed, singing “tha-ings” with two syllables, you know this is going to be a big treat. She includes a couple of songs from 1989’s Oh Mercy – Political World is performed as a slow, funky blues and features the guitar of Keith Richards, and What Was It You Wanted becomes a laid-back jazzy number with the help from Trombone Shorty. This is a stellar album, with LaVette pulling more emotion out of Emotionally Yours than ever Dylan did.
Emma Swift, Blonde on the Tracks, 2020
Australian singer-songwriter Emma Swift pulls off her covers album with considerable aplomb. Most of the songs are from Dylan’s early period, but interestingly, she includes I Contain Multitudes, from Dylan’s 2020 Rough and Rowdy Ways. Nice to her do Queen Jane Approximately and Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands. At 57 minutes, the deluxe version of the album, which includes some live versions of the songs gives good value.
Chrissie Hynde, Standing in the Doorway, 2021
Lead vocalist of The Pretenders gives us a terrific selection of songs from throughout Dylan’s career from 1965’s Love Minus Zero/No Limit to 1997’s Standing in the Doorway. It kicks off with Shot of Love’s In the Summertime, just Hynde and a 12-string guitar and you know this is gonna work. Her strung-out vocals on Blind Willie McTell are masterful.
Lucinda Williams, Lu’s Jukebox: Bob’s Back Pages, 2021
Lucinda Williams’ world-weary, at times croaky voice, with the slurred lyrics is perfect for Dylan songs. Her Everything is Broken, with just a hint of menace, is just about perfect. She includes a few dark Dylan songs – Not Dark Yet, Political World, Man of Peace and Trying to Get to Heaven – all performed with a full band and yet sounding suitably sparce. Williams can do tender as well though – Make You Feel My Love is all that, in a decidedly Lucinda Williams kind of way. Her Blind Willie McTell is maybe the stand-out track.
I’ve seen a few shows of varying quality during the pandemic restrictions of the past year. But none comes close to Bob Dylan’s Shadow Kingdom gig. Granted, it wasn’t a live gig, although you kinda got that impression from the advance publicity.
But the quality of this pre-recorded show, the surprising setting, and Dylan’s performance was such that any initial gripes were quickly forgotten. Shot in black and white, mimicking a smoky down-at-heels club in the 1940s, Dylan was in full cabaret singer mode, all gestures and stances, singing positively tunefully.
Where was the raspy, near-croak we’ve become use to in recent years? Gone completely as he treated us to a romp through his early back catalogue – mainly 1960s and 70s with What Was It You Wanted from 1989’s Oh Mercy the most recent one covered.
When you go to a Dylan gig, you expect the songs you know and love to be completed re-reworked, sometimes so you can barely recognise them. Here with the backing of a young band playing largely acoustically – double bass, acoustic guitars, mandolin, accordion, occasional electric guitar and no percussion – the songs sounded fresh, instantly recognizable and utterly captivating. Especially with the man in such good voice, at times strumming a couple of arch-top acoustic guitars and blowing a tasteful harmonica.
The dim lighting and the black and white shooting lent a considerable amount of atmosphere to the show, with patrons sitting around tables being served drinks and – à la 1940s, smoking. No wonder the band had their masks on – presumably to shield from the cigarette smoke rather than the virus. Though, actually, I kinda suspect the cigarette smoke might have been faked.
It worked rather well, though. The only thing else needed, said one wag on the online comments, was a “bar room brawl off stage.”
Dylan at 80 still managed to look rather cool, with his white jacket or – my favourite and I want one – his black embroidered one. The man still has a decent head of hair, though the low light suitably concealed his creased, craggy features.
He kicked things off with When I Paint My Masterpiece, probably the best version of this song he’s done, followed by Most Likely You’ll Go Your Way And I’ll Go Mine, before the exquisite Queen Jane, with Dylan standing at the mike, articulating the lyrics almost sweetly and the band paring things back to put the spotlight on the song and the singer.
I’ll Be Your Only Baby Tonight, musically was very cool, but I have to say, I felt rather uncomfortable about Dylan being flanked by two young women as he sang. Didn’t seem a good look. My feminist daughter, however, reckoned that the scene was supposed to subvert “the male gaze” (Google it!) – the women actors looked right into the camera all the time and not at Dylan. If so, it was clever work by Israeli-American director Alma Har’el, who did a superb job overall. Watch this song yourself for yourself and decide.
A few songs later we got What Was It You Wanted from 1989’s Oh Mercy, a quite beautiful acoustic version, with a little plaintive harmonica from Dylan, which brought out the yearning and pathos of the song. And that’s the thing about these arrangements – it helped you appreciate just how strong Dylan’s songs are, both lyrically and musically. In some concerts I’ve gone to in recent years, the songs were all but obscured by the rockabilly or rock’n’roll treatment.
He followed that with a tenderly sung Forever Young. I’ve always loved this song, but tonight, it seemed particularly poignant. That’s what we want for Dylan, for his songs, the albums, are so much a part of our history and we can’t bear to think of him aging. Because that means we’re aging too. And although we want it to be true, that he and we could stay forever young, we know, at 80, we’ll not have him performing and writing songs for much longer.
It was nice to get a song from John Wesley Harding in the mix, the lyrically opaque Wicked Messenger, whose title is based loosely on a verse from the biblical book of Proverbs. The obscurity of the lyrics was nicely emphasized by Dylan either being hidden entirely by the guitar player or almost completely in shade.
The final song, I hope we can’t read too much into – It’s All Over Now Baby Blue, sung with some deliberation, the band following Dylan’s careful enunciation, and highlighting the lyrics much more than the jaunty version on 1965’s Bringing It All Back Home.
Suddenly it really was all over, just 48 minutes. But 48 utterly absorbing and totally entertaining minutes. The good thing is, having paid my $25, I can watch it again a time or two over the next couple of days.
Setlist
When I Paint My Masterpiece Most Likely You Go Your Way And I’ll Go MIne Queen Jane Approximately I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues Tombstone Blues To Be Alone With You What Was It You Wanted Forever Young Pledging My Time Wicked Messenger Watching The River Flow It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue
In celebration of Bob Dylan’s 80th birthday (gosh that makes me feel old!), I listened to a lot of songs in my Dylan collection and confirmed what I had long suspected – that Dylan is fine blues artist, with a deep sense of and respect for the blues tradition.
Look through the canon and you’ll find versions of traditional blues songs, new songs that are out-and-out blues in form, songs that are blues-infused, and some that are clearly not musically blues, but nevertheless have a blues lyrical content (and on occasions, title).
The blues slips through throughout his long career, but is most evident in his very early work and then the latter albums, from Time Out of Mind onwards. But can a wealthy white guy really be said to be a bluesman? Of course, Dylan wasn’t always wealthy and paid his dues as a homeless, penniless young musician before things took off for him. But that’s a debate I’ll leave you to think about if you read Adam Gussow’s book Whose Blues? All I’ll say here is that from the beginning of his career until now, Dylan has drunk deeply at the well of the blues tradition and has done his bit in rehearsing that tradition over the years, through performing traditional songs and his own compositions. And he’s proved to be a thoroughly able exponent of the blues – in his own idiosyncratic, characteristic way.
We’ve selected 12 of Dylan’s blues songs for you to enjoy.
First, six traditional blues songs:
Corina Corina From Dylan’s 2nd album, The Freewheeling Bob Dylan, the song was first recorded in1928 by Bo Carter, and then by the Mississippi Sheiks in 1930 (turning Corina into Sweet Alberta). Many other early blues artists recorded it, including Blind Lemon Jefferson, Big Joe Turner, Mississippi John Hurt and Mance Lipscomb, as well as jazz artists and exponents of Western Swing. Dylan’s version borrows from Robert Johnson’s Stones in My Passageway, including the lyrics, “I got a bird that whistles, I got a bird that sings.”
Fixin’ to Die Dylan’s first eponymously titled album, released in 1962 features mostly folk and blues standards as well as two Dylan originals. Fixin’ to Die is a song by Delta blues musician Bukka White, recorded in 1940. The song reflected White’s experience in the notorious Parchman prison in Mississippi, where he “got to wondering how a man feels when he dies.” Dylan’s version changes the melody and adds some lyrics.
See That My Grave is Kept Clean Another song that appeared on Bob’s debut album. It was first recorded by Blind Lemon Jefferson in 1927 and 1928 and became his most famous. Dylan manages to keep the rather sombre nature of the topic in his version, possibly more so than even Blind Lemon. The song has been recorded by a host of artists, including excellent versions by B B King and Mavis Staples.
Stack a Lee Dylan’s version appears on his 1993 album World Gone Wrong, a raw sounding collection of traditional folk songs, which was critically acclaimed and won a Grammy for Traditional Folk Album. The song is known in a number of variants – Stagger Lee and Stagolee amongst them – and is a traditional song about the murder of Billy Lyons by “Stag” Lee Shelton in St. Louis in 1895. It was first recorded in 1923 by Fred Waring’s Pennsylvanians. Shelton, nicknamed Stag because he had no friends, and Lyons were members of the St. Louis underground. They got into dispute over Lyons’s hat one evening while drinking and Shelton shot Lyons, and was subsequently convicted of his murder. The song celebrating this unsavoury incident has been recorded by many artists over the years, with Mississippi John Hurt’s 1928 version often considered the definitive one.
Frankie and Albert The song appears on Dylan’s 1992 album, Good As I Been to You, another album made up entirely of folk and blues songs and Dylan’s first entirely solo, acoustic album since Another Side of Bob Dylan in 1964. Rolling Stone viewed it as positively as “a passionate, at times almost ragged piece of work.” Frankie and Albert, again, was inspired by real life, the story of a woman killing her unfaithful lover. There have been hundreds of recordings of the song, starting from as early as 1912, including versions by Elvis and Johnny Cash. Dylan’s version features some nifty acoustic guitar work and some lovely vocal phrasing.
Rollin’ and Tumblin’ Dylan’s version of this old blues standard song is on his 2006 Modern Times album. Dylan had come into a rich vein of form starting from the 1997 Time Out of Mind, which was to continue right until the present, with a number of well-received, critically acclaimed and enjoyable albums. It reached No.1 in the album charts in the US and was ranked by Rolling Stone as one of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. Dylan’s version of Rollin’ and Tumblin’ follows Muddy Waters’ famous version, which had taken the tune from Robert Johnson’s If I Had Possession Over Judgement Day. Dylan’s version gives a rockabilly feel to the song and has some nice slide guitar along with his increasingly croaking vocals.
We might also have included Dylan’s versions of Blind Boy Fuller’s Step It Up and Go and the Mississippi Sheiks Sitting on Top of the World, but let’s choose another half dozen of Dylan’s own blues songs.
Dylan’s Own Blues Songs
Everything is Broken Dylan’s 1989 album, Oh Mercy, produced by Daniel Lanois, after a couple of poorly received albums, was viewed as a return to form, with Dylan himself claiming, “There’s some magical about this record.” Everything is Broken is rife with blues sentiment, with Dylan bemoaning the state of the world, with everything broken, from kitchen implements to bodies to treaties. The final lines, “Hound dog howling, bull frog croaking, Everything is broken” echo the empty, hollowness of a broken world. It’s been described as a Louisiana, swamp blues, and the reverb-drenched guitar work, with a simple three chord blues structure, matches the near-despondency of the lyrics.
The Levee’s Gonna Break Another one from 2006’s Modern Times. It’s a straight 12 bar blues based on When the Levee Breaks by Kansas Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie from 1929. The song references the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927, a hugely destructive river flood that inundated 27,000 square miles up to a depth of 30 feet and displaced 200,000 African Americans from their homes, forcing them to live in relief camps or migrate north. Dylan uses only a few lines from the original song, with the rest his own. Interesting note: the line “Some people got barely enough skin to cover their bones” probably comes from Ovid’s Tristia, Book 4: “there’s barely enough skin to cover my bones.”
The Groom’s Still Waiting at the Altar The song was recorded in 1980, but not included in the first version of Shot of Love in 1981. It appeared on the vinyl version of the album and in all subsequent versions released. Both Rolling Stone and the Guardian hailed it as one of Dylan’s best songs. It’s a brilliant piece of blues rock and the November 13, 1980 performance from San Francisco, which is included in the Trouble No More Bootleg release, features Carlos Santana on guitar with a couple of blistering solos and Dylan as intense as you’re likely to hear him, in enigmatic prophet mode, speaking of a world of chaos, madness, war and misunderstanding. The song is a powerful one – “a fiery piece of molten fury” [album liner notes] and the repetitive blues riff drives home the prophet’s urgent message. [For more on this song, click here]
Lonesome Day Blues This is a straight 12 bar blues song from 2001’s Love and Theft. In Bob Dylan All the Songs: The Story Behind Every Track, authors Margotin and Guesdon call it an exemplary blues performance – it “demonstrates how easily (he) can sing the genre. His voice takes on the atmosphere of Muddy Waters’ electric period. The support of his musicians is extraordinary.” It’s a good ‘un, all right!
Beyond Here Lies Nothing From 2009’s Together Through Life, the song’s title is a quotation from the ancient Roman poet, Ovid. It was for nominated for a Grammy Award for Best Rock Vocal Performance, Solo in 2010. There’s a nice loose feel to the arrangement, with judicious use of horns, and Dylan’s vocal performance is very cool.
False Prophet From Dylan’s highly acclaimed Rough and Rowdy Ways from 2020, an album that proved Dylan’s staying power and his song writing mastery had not diminished. The music on False Prophet is based on Billy “The Kid” Emerson’s 1954 Sun Records single If Lovin’ Is Believin’ and features some nice guitar work by Dylan’s long-time guitarist, Charlie Sexton. The song is rather enigmatic, with Dylan claiming to be “no false prophet” kind of echoing here previous denials of being the cultural prophet that many had set him up to be over the years. Notwithstanding what he has said or sung, Dylan has proved himself to be a prophetic voice, whether it has been pointing to the broken nature of the world and its injustices or the broken nature of individuals, with the hope that can come through faith.
We’ve left out no end of fine songs, including: Man in the Long Black Coat, Ain’t talking, Trouble, Shot of Love, High Water, Jolene, Shake Shake Mama, It’s all Good, World Gone Wrong, Black Crow Blues, Gotta Serve Somebody. Go check them out, if you’re not familiar with them.
But we’ll finish with a song that claims to be a blues song, but isn’t really. But it’s one of my favourite Dylan songs, so here it is, from his Modern Times album.
Time to hit the road, jump into the Cadillac, scoot down the highway. I guess we’re all feeling like that after the last year we’ve had. We’ve got itchy feet, we need a change of scene, to get outa town, maybe leave on a jet plane. There’s plenty of travel in the blues and we’ve selected twelve songs to help you fly the coop or hightail it out of here.
Robert Johnson was the typical early ramblin’ bluesman, reflected in a number of his songs, like Walkin’ Blues:
Woke up this mornin’, feelin’ round for my shoes But you know ’bout ‘at I, got these old walkin’ blues
Check out this great version of Johnson’s song, by Keb’ Mo’ and others in Play for Change video:
Big Bill Broonzy, is ready to go too – he’s “gonna leave here running, ‘cos walkin’s much too slow!”
Big Maybelle – Mabel Louise Smith – (so called because of her loud “but yet well-toned voice) had her own version of Key to the Highway – Ramblin’ Blues, released in 1958. She’s just tired of her man’s low-down, dirty ways.
Talking about highways, Howlin’ Wolf’s heading out on Highway 49, looking for his baby. Hope he’s not driving though, with that “jug o’wine.”
Watch out, Wolfman, Sonny Boy Williamson’s bound for Highway 49 too. But he’s got a straight-eight Pontiac, the company’s most powerful car in 1951, capable of 252 bhp.
Sometimes moving on was because of something more sinister. The Jim Crow south, with its sundown towns, its intolerance and its lynching, kept bluesmen on the move. Charlie Patton’s Down the Dirt Road Blues has that sense of threat. And check out Adam Gussow’s book, Seems Like Murder Here, which explores this theme in some depth.
“Every day seem like murder here, I’m gonna leave tomorrow.”
Ma Rainey’s headed to San Antonio – we’re not sure why, but she sure is down in the dumps about something.
Talking about having a serious case of the blues, Canned Heat, with Alan Wilson’s plaintive, Skip-James-inspired falsetto, complains that he “ain’t got no woman…had no place to go…my dear mother left me when I was quite young.”
Nothing for it then, but the lonesome highway.
But let’s not get too depressed – here’s the wonderful Bonnie Raitt with the more upbeat The Road’s My Middle Name, with Kim Wilson on harmonica from her 1989 album Nick of Time.
And, if everybody’s leaving town, “baby, why don’t we go too?” That was Skip James’s logic. Hard to argue with.
Bob Dylan, that most under-rated of blues artists, is “looking for the sunny side of love,” and is “gonna walk down that dirt road” until he finds it. Sadly Bob hasn’t allowed the song on YouTube, but here’s a cool version by the Alpinistos
Well, we’re on the road, we’ve hit the highway; what are we gonna do but “put all our troubles away and drive”?
Gary Moore’s 1990 album, Still Got the Blues is next up in our series of classic blues albums. It was the most successful album of Moore’s career, selling over three million copies worldwide and heralded a change in direction for the guitarist and a return to his blues roots. It featured collaborations with Albert King, Albert Collins and George Harrison and reached No. 83 on the Billboard 200 in February 1991, and then was certified gold by the RIAA on November 1995.
Moore was from my home town, Belfast, but I only saw him perform once, on June 26, 2004, in the Belfast Odyssey Arena. His was the stand-out performance of seven in support of Bob Dylan, in a production that began around 2 pm and lasted until about 10:30. I really couldn’t be bothered with the other performances, to tell the truth, but Gary Moore was outstanding. (Dylan was on form that evening as well, in fine voice, with an excellent band and a fan-pleasing set that included an acoustic version of Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright, Like A Rolling Stone, and All Along The Watchtower.)
Moore straddled the stage, legs apart, guitar slung low, hair cascading to his shoulders, like the guitar-god he was and gave us nine of his greatest hits, including Oh Pretty Woman, Still Got the Blues and his signature tune, Parisienne Walkways. The guitar playing was sublime and his facial contortions all we hoped for. “People make fun of me for doing that,” he said, “but it’s not contrived. When I’m playing, I get completely lost in it and I’m not even aware of what I’m doing with my face – I’m just playing.”
Reputedly, Moore was a modest man with few pretensions, who kept a low public profile and was happiest at home in Sussex. Typical is what he said of his gigs with Dylan on that tour: “At the Odyssey in Belfast, I tried to walk up the steps at the side of the stage to see who was in Dylan’s band. The bouncer said ‘You’re not allowed up there!’ and that was the end of that. The stage was quite high and I couldn’t really see, so I spent the next 20 minutes jumping up and down to get glimpses of what was going on!”
But he was an incredible guitar player – voted one of the greatest guitarists of all time by Total Guitar, but egregiously absent from Rolling Stone’s flawed list of 100 Greatest Guitar Players.
Gary Moore was born in Belfast in 1952, but left just before Northern Ireland’s “Troubles” started in 1969, going to Dublin to become a musician. His dad had bought him his first guitar, a second-hand Framus acoustic, when Moore was 10 years old. Though left-handed, he learned to play the instrument right-handed and by 15, he was the best guitarist in his home town. After stints with Skid Row and Thin Lizzy, he began his solo career in the 1970s, playing hard rock and heavy metal before returning to the blues with Still Got the Blues as the 90s began. The idea for the album had come when it had been jokingly suggested to Moore than he do a whole blues album after being heard noodling the blues in his dressing room on a previous tour.
Moore playing Peter Green’s Les Paul
The album got made and the rest, as they say, is history. Still Got the Blues was extremely successful and re-launched Moore’s career as a blues rock artist. Moore followed it up with After Hours in 1992 which went platinum in Sweden and gold in the UK, and then three years after that with Blues for Greeny, a tribute album to his friend and mentor Peter Green. A slew of other blues albums appeared in the 2000s – Back to the Blues (2001), Power of the Blues (2004), Old New Ballads Blues (2006), Close as You Get (2007), and finally Bad for You Baby (2008). Sadly we lost Gary Moore in 2011 when he died with a heart attack.
The original release of Still Got the Blues consisted of nine songs, but the CD version added three more, including that That Kind of Woman, unmistakably a George Harrison song, with Harrison, a friend of Moore’s playing on it. There was a further augmenting of the album in 2002 with five more songs, including Elmore James’s The Sky is Crying, a tribute by Moore to Stevie Ray Vaughan, who died in 1990, which Moore attacks with some incendiary playing.
The album kicks off with a toe-tapping, rock’n’roll number, Moving On, featuring some tasty slide guitar. This is followed by Albert King’s Oh Pretty Woman, written by A.C. Williams, from King’s acclaimed 1969 album, Born Under A Bad Sign, Moore giving the song much more attack and edge. The interplay of his guitar and the horns is brilliant and the guitar solo, with its huge string bends and fast runs, is guaranteed to have the hair on the back of your neck sit up.
King played on the track and reputedly told Moore off for playing too many notes – “Think ten notes but play five.” Seemingly Moore was prepared to take the advice on board, recognising he’d come from a heavy rock scene where the more notes played the better. King, however, was impressed with Gary Moore – “I didn’t think he could play. I thought he was just another kid trying to get off into the blues guitar world… but listening to that kid play the wildest things… Golly Moses, where did he come from?”
A couple of songs later we get Moore’s own Still Got the Blues, with that sweet, searing and transcendent guitar introduction. It’s a beautiful song, well-constructed musically and intelligent lyrically but, of course it’s the extended guitar solo two-thirds the way through that stays in the memory – utterly transfixing and heart-wrenching. The song was released as a single and reached No. 97 on the Billboard Hot 100 in February 1991.
Moore pays homage to B.B. King in King of the Blues, “born in Indianola, Mississippi 1924,” (though King was born in 1925) with “Lucy by his side.” As well as the big guitar sounds, full of energy and emotion, there are the quieter, night-time blues of As the Years Go Passing By and Midnight Blues, with Moore’s guitar work restrained and tasteful, but still utterly soul-searching.
Throughout the album, Moore seems to play as if his life depended on it, each note utterly crucial. The combination of the strong songs, the collaborators, the associations, Moore’s incredible guitar work, the horns at time giving it a big band vibe, and Moore’s excellent vocal performance make it something of a masterpiece of blues rock.
Gary Moore proved himself to be a masterful exponent of the blues, and his extraordinary talent and devotion to his craft is sorely missed. We look forward to Provogue’s release of a new album, featuring previously unreleased material, How Blue Can You Get on 30 April, to mark the ten years since Gary Moore passed away.
Bob Dylan called him “one of the wizards of modern music.” His biographer, Ian Zack, called him “one of the world’s greatest, if not the greatest, of all traditional and ragtime guitarists” And for Alan Lomax, the folklorist, he was “one of the great geniuses of American instrumental music.”
We’re talking about Rev. Gary Davis, the blind son of dirt-poor sharecroppers in South Carolina, who went on to exert a major influence on the folk scene of the 1960s and the early rock scene of the 70s. Yet for most of his career, he refused to perform blues music publicly until the latter years of his life.
He was remarkably musically gifted and his guitar virtuosity was an inspiration to people like Jorma Kaukonen, Bob Weir, Stefan Grossman and many others. Davis was born in 1896 in the Jim Crow South Carolina, became blind as a small child, and was abandoned by his mother. Raised in poverty by his grandmother, it was a thoroughly unpromising start. But she made sure young Gary went to church where he sang in the choir. He took up the guitar early, playing spirituals in earshot of his grandmother and other songs learned from traveling minstrel shows when she wasn’t listening,
He began to have real success as a musician in his late teens at picnics and in string bands, then playing on street corners for nickels and dimes, eventually adopting the rambling lifestyle of the wandering bluesman. But, at the age of 38, when his mother was dying, Davis experienced a vision, where an angel, appearing as a child, called him to God. Right there, he says, he “surrendered and gave up. Gave up entirely.” He soon was ordained as a Baptist minister.
He now harnessed all the musical skill he had amassed in playing ragtime, jazz, blues, and minstrel music and his considerable creative energies in composing and playing spiritual songs in pursuit of his new calling in life. There had been a great change.
One of Gary Davis’s song which reflects this is simply called Great Change Since I Been Born, and I got to thinking about it, when a good friend of mine, Gary Bradley, an Irish musician, sent me a recording he had made of the song for use in the book launch of my new book.
The reason I wanted the song is because my book, Paul Distilled is about the thinking of the apostle Paul, whose letters form part of our New Testaments. He, too, experienced a great change – from a man of violence to a man promoting love and peace, because of his own encounter with God. Specifically, meeting the resurrected Jesus on the famous Damascus Road. In his letters, it’s clear that he thought the epoch-shattering event of Jesus’s resurrection meant the possibility of transformation – both personally and for the world. A transformation based on love. These short thirteen letters of Paul dropped a depth charge of thought into the ancient world, whose effects are still being felt in the world. Can love really change the world? According to Jesus, and the greatest exponent of the meaning of his life, Paul – a resounding Yes!
Gary Davis eventually made has way to New York City, where his incredible skill and talent became appreciated and where he was eventually persuaded to perform more than just spiritual songs in the 1960s Though his faith was still intact, the good Reverend clearly struggled with alcohol and was known to be pretty foul-mouthed and angry at times. As Bob Dylan observed in Solid Rock,
“It’s the ways of the flesh to war against the spirit
Twenty-four hours a day, you can feel it and you can hear it”
He was reflecting, of course, St Paul’s letter to the Romans, where he talks about doing the things he doesn’t want to do and not doing what he knows he ought to do. We’ve all been there. The good news, is that a great change is possible. A life empowered by the Spirit of Jesus “is life and peace.” The secret is, in Gary Davis’s words, to “surrender and give up. Give up entirely.”
2020 gave us a fine new collection of Americana/roots music. Bob Dylan at 79 showed his genius once more and Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band came through with a classic-sounding album. Other notable releases came from Jason Isbell, Lucinda Williams and Welch & Rawlings. Here are our picks in two batches, 22 in all, each shown in alphabetical order rather than ranking.
Our Top 10
American Aquarium, Lamentations
This is simply a terrific album. Serious themes, sophisticated songwriting, good tunes, with a dollop of hope and optimism creeping through. The title track is inspired by the Old Testament’s Book of Lamentations, where PJ Barham he relates Jeremiah’s sufferings to someone who has “woke up from the American dream.” “He’s watching his entire country fall apart before his eyes, calling up to ask God for help, and nobody’s answering,” says Barham. “I thought that was a really great parallel [to] 2020 America.”
The Avett Brothers, The Third Gleam
In the third of their Gleam series, Scott and Seth Avett with long-time bass player Bob Crawford give us eight pared-back songs focusing on family, romantic love and spirituality. The harmonies are lovely, the songs are strong and the sparse acoustic arrangements work wonderfully well.,
Bob Dylan, Rough and Rowdy Ways
Songs like I Contain Multitudes and I’ve Made up My Mind to Give Myself to You are, like the rest of the album, quite brilliant, With its apocalyptic overtones and searching questions like, “Is there light at the end of the tunnel?” Rough and Rowdy Ways is a majestic piece of work from the 79 year-old, something of a masterpiece.
Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit, Reunions
Another really fine album from Jason Isbell, the seventh album from the former Drive By Truckers artist, Backed by the excellent 400 Unit, this is a great set of intelligent songs, which, though personal, sound universal. The band play effortlessly together with terrific energy throughout, beautifully accompanying Isbell’s and Amanda Shires’s spine-tingling harmonizing. Outstanding.
The Jayhawks, Xoxo
Hard to believe the Jayhawks have been on the go for 35 years. This, their 11th studio album, is classic Jayhawks, and features songwriting and vocals from all four members of the band. There’s a nice bit of musical diversity in this album which will appeal to long-time fans and newcomers alike.
Diana Jones, Song to a Refugee
Song to a Refugee is a quite remarkable piece of work by singer-songwriter, Diana Jones – an album entirely given to highlighting the global refugee problem. It’s a serious listen – you’ll enjoy Jones’ acoustic, guitar-driven, folky Americana, but feel downright uncomfortable as she tells story after story about desperate people escaping war and violence and seeking refuge and safety.
Marcus King, El Dorado
First rate set of bluesy, soulful Americana from a man whose guitar chops and richly textured vocals are making a lot of people sit up and take notice. The band graced Eric Clapton’s Crossroads festival last year and this album is sure to enhance its reputation even more. Produced and co-written with the Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach, there’s a fine balance of approaches here, from powerful blues rock here in The Well to the late-night blues of Wildflowers and Wine to the 70s Southern rock of Sweet Mariona.
Bruce Springsteen, Letter to You
Classic E-Street rock from the Boss, who seems to have more energy than ever. With more road behind him than ahead, Springsteen waxes philosophical on the subjects of loss and frailty of the human condition. But Springsteen, in the way only he can, gives us hope and celebration as well, and the album is surely his best of recent years.
Gillian Welch, David Rawlings, All the Good Times
Wonderful album of covers from the talented duo, sparse and beautiful renditions of traditional and songs from other artists. Rawlings’ take on Bob Dylan’s Seǹor is masterful while Welch’s Hello In There is a lovely tribute to John Prine whom we sadly lost this past year. Together they breathe new life into this beautifully chosen set of songs, and somehow hit the right note for the year that is past.
Lucinda Williams, Good Souls, Better Angels
Williams’ raspy, edgy growl adorns a bluesy, gnarly set of apocalyptic songs which explore a world coming apart. Full of punk-rock energy, as Jesse Malin said of it, “It’s like Muddy Waters meets the Stooges. It’s a badass record.” It’s real and it’s raw and Williams takes no prisoners – certainly not Trump who is firmly in her sights in Man Without A Soul. “Help me stay fearless,” she sings towards the end of the album, “Help me stay strong.” Her prayer’s been answered in this album.
And the next 12
Dave Alvin, From An Old Guitar: Rare and Unreleased Recordings
“There are two types of folk music: quiet folk music and loud folk music. I play both,” says Alvin, and that’s what you get here. It’s mostly covers in this generous 16 song set, and Alvin’s crusty, attention-grabbing vocals take centre stage. Alvin said the album was recorded for “the sheer kicks of going into a recording studio to make some joyous noise with musicians and singers that I love and admire.” Sums it up nicely.
Mary Chapin Carpenter, The Dirt and the Stars
Mary Chapin Carpenter is in the sharpest form of her 30 year career with incisive songwriting in a beautiful, intimate album. But watch out for the stinging American Stooge, which takes aim at hypocritical politicians.
The Chicks, Gaslighter
Having dropped the “Dixie” from their name, the three Chicks have released their first album in 14 years. Punchy country pop and defiant take on relationship-gone-bad and politics.
Brandy Clark, Your Life is a Record
Heart-break album, which never descends into melancholy. That’s a feat in itself. Clark proves herself to be, once again, a top-notch song-writer and singer.
Sarah Jarosz, World on the Ground
In this, her 5th album, Jarosz’s songs draw inspiration from her home in Texas, after her world tours and sojourn in New York City. Fine album of folk-pop, featuring Jarosz’s finger-picked guitars and banjo and her meditative vocals.
Brian Fallon, Local Honey
Short, at just over 30 minutes, but it’s fine stuff on this 3rd solo release from Brian Fallon. Local Honey sees the former Gaslight Anthem man move into country folk territory in these fine acoustic-led ballads.
Lori McKenna, The Balladeer
Peerless songwriter McKenna draws inspiration from her family to create an upbeat album of the hugely enjoyable songs we’ve come to expect from her.
Two voices, two guitars, gorgeous harmonies and eleven classic songs reimagined in a rootsy, fresh manner.
Chris Smither, More From the Levee
From a master song-writer come 10 more songs from his 2014 New Orleans Still On the Levee sessions. His wry wit, rhythmic finger picking an authentic, world-weary singing make any Chris Smither album worth listening to.
Chris Stapleton, Starting Over
It’s more of the same from the current king of country, despite the album’s title. Solid country rock with some nice bluesy moment. And two Guy Clark covers can’t be bad, right?
Watkins Family Hour, Brother Sister
Siblings Sean and Sara are excellent songwriters, singers and musicians, all on display in this lovely album, bluegrass based, but with tinges of Americana, jazz and ragtime.
Waxahatchee, Saint Cloud
Apparently inspired by Lucinda Williams’s Car Wheels On A Gravel Road, Katie Crutchfield veers away from melancholy indie-rock back to her country roots – very successfully. Excellent stuff.
Acclaimed “father of the blues,” song-writer and band-leader W.C. Handy was born this day 137 years ago. He’s an important figure in the history of the blues – the first real superstar, through his sheet music compositions, his 1914 St. Louis Blues, and his claim to recognizing the “world famous blues note.”
And, whatdayaknow, I share a birthday with W.C. Handy! Handy, of course, is credited with recognizing the blues for the first time in the plaintive slide playing by a man on his guitar at a station in Tutweiler, has a statue in a park named after him in Memphis, and his compositions are played to this day.
Me, I was a member of the winning sprint relay team in the Belfast primary schools’ interschool competition at Dunmore dog-racing stadium in the late ‘60s and am the proud author of this blog.
But, of course, I’ve one thing going for me over Mr. Handy. I’m still here! Though with each passing birthday, you’re painfully aware of the passing of time. You’ll never be in the sprint relay team again, your hair gets thinner and just about every muscle group in your body heads south. As Jackson Browne says,
Time may heal all wounds
But time will steal you blind
Time the wheel, time the conqueror.
But, there’s no point is dwelling on that too much, I reckon. I like the attitude of acoustic blues master, Rory Block, who’s now over 70 and who told me when I spoke to her a while back:
“Getting older or passing years is only what you make it. You know, you may make a disadvantage of it, but honestly, I don’t go there. I see it as an advantage. Now maybe I’m crazy, but I see it as a real opportunity to know more, to do more with what you know, to feel more…your fruit ripens! And to me it’s like I don’t feel old. What are you talking about? I’m more clear that this is what I was put here to do. You know, really, I see it that way. And man, I’m just getting started! I don’t feel a limitation at all and I don’t feel old – my goodness, not at all!”
So, as I celebrate my something-somethingth birthday, I’m with Rory. There are books to be written (a new one coming out soon); albums to be reviewed (though I’ll never keep up with the prolific and quite wonderful Rocking Magpie); guitars to be played; family and friends to cherish; grandchildren to greet into the world; and a big old hurting world in which to try and make a small difference (with God’s help).
Bob Dylan’s Forever Young from his Planet Waves album in 1974 – which, incidentally, someone gave me as a birthday present – hits the right note, I think:
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
And may you stay forever young
May you stay forever young.
And now, to help W.C. and me celebrate, here are a few blues songs.
Louis Jordan and his Tympany 5’s big band Happy Birthday Boogie gets the party started. “Happy birthday to you, and I hope you have many more”
Sammy Mayfield gives us a more bluesy version of the song.
And B.B. King has his Happy Birthday Blues, with a bit more blues feeling
And check out this bit of fun from Chris Kramer and the Beatbox, who hopes all our dreams come true.
And finally, it’s not the blues, but it’s a celebration, and it is Bruce Springsteen. Written for his wife Patti, but now dedicated to everybody who’s having a birthday today:
So teach us to count our days that we may gain a wise heart. (Psalm 90:12)
The railroad has a special place in the blues. Lovers leave on the train, singers go searching for them by the train, the gospel train is on its way, and the ramblin’ bluesman needs to board that train and ride.
Railroads were one of the major infrastructural and economic achievements of the nineteenth century and loomed large in the lives of people as the blues began to develop. You recall that the story of the very beginnings of the blues was at a railway station – in 1903, whilst waiting for a train in Tutweiler, Mississippi, bandleader W.C. Handy heard a man running a knife over the guitar strings and singing. He said,
“A lean, loose-jointed Negro had commenced plunking a guitar beside me while I slept. His clothes were rags; his feet peeped out of his shoes. His face had on it some of the sadness of the ages. As he played, he pressed a knife on the strings of a guitar in a manner popularized by Hawaiian guitarists who used steel bars. The effect was unforgettable. His song, too, struck me instantly. ‘Goin’ where the Southern cross’ the Dog.’ The singer repeated the line three times, accompanying himself on the guitar with the weirdest music I ever heard.”
Handy later published an adaptation of this song as “Yellow Dog Blues,” and became known as the “Father of the Blues.”
Freed slaves had built the railroad with their blood, sweat and tears, and in the early years of the twentieth century, it was the primary means of transport for people for longer distances. For itinerant blues musicians like Robert Johnson, trains allowed them to move from place to place and ply their trade. Johnson’s sister, Annye Anderson, in her book, Brother Robert, remembers Robert “hoboing” around on the train, going back and forth from Memphis to the Delta for his music. His famous train song, of course, is Love in Vain.
The train was the means of escape, too, for black people wanting to leave behind the injustice of the Jim Crow South and seek a better life in the North and West. From 1916 onwards, around 6m people moved away from the racist ideology, the lynching and the lack of economic opportunity to cities like Chicago, Philadelphia, Detroit and New York. Famously, McKinley Morganfield – Muddy Waters – boarded a train for Chicago in 1943 to become the “father of Chicago blues” and pioneer electric blues.
Trains in the South were, of course, segregated. In the “colored” section, there were no luggage racks, requiring travellers to cram their suitcases around their feet; and the bathroom there was smaller and lacked the amenities of the “whites” bathroom. All these were subtle and not-so-subtle reminders that you were not as good as the people in the other section.
So James Carr’s Freedom Train of 1969 was significant. Attorney General Tom C. Clark had organized a Freedom Train as “a campaign to sell America to Americans” to try and bolster the sense of shared ideology within the country. The train was integrated, but several Southern cities refused to allow blacks and whites to see the exhibits at the same time, and the Freedom Train skipped the planned visits. Carr’s song celebrates a new Freedom Train, free from segregation and discrimination. where “every man is gonna walk right proud with his head up high.”
So, here’s to trains, and may the Freedom Train keep on rollin’ down the track!
Here are 20 blues train songs for you to enjoy.
Trouble in Mind (1924)
In this old blues standard, things are so bad, the singer wants to end it all – he’s going to lay down his head on that old railroad iron, and let that 2.19 special pacify his mind. It never really gets to that point, happily, because, “sun’s gonna shine in my back yard some day.” First recorded in 1924, it’s been done by Nina Simone, Janis Joplin, Snooks Eglin, Lightnin’ Hopkins and many more. I like this jaunty version by Brooks Williams from his Brooks Blues album of 2017.
Railroad Blues , Trixie Smith with Louis Armstrong (1925)
Trixie Smith, not related to Bessie Smith, paid her dues in vaudeville and minstrel shows, as well as performing as a dancer, a comedian, an actress, and a singer. Here she is backed by Louis Armstrong’s muted horn, as she is “Alabama bound” on the railroad.
The Mail Train Blues, Sippie Wallace (1926)
The Texas Nightingale recorded 40 songs for Okeh during the 1920s before going on to be a a church organist, singer, and choir director, and then eventually reviving her performing career in the 1960s. In Wallace’s 1926 Mail Train Blues she bemoans her sweet man leaving her and wants to go looking for him aboard the mail train.
Spike Driver Blues. Mississippi John Hurt (1928)
This and other songs recorded by Hurt in 1928 were not commercially success and he reverted to the farming life until being found in 1963 by Dick Spottswood and Tom Hoskins, and persuaded to perform and record again. John Hurt had a wonderful guitar picking style which is credited by many guitarists as their inspiration. Spike Driver Blues is a John Henry song where the “steel-driving man” dies as a result of his hammering a steel drill into rock to make holes for explosives to blast the rock in constructing a railroad tunnel.
Long Train Blues, Robert Wilkins, (1930)
Wilkins was a versatile blues performer from Mississipi who gave up playing the blues to become a gospel minister in 1936. An excellent guitarist, he came to light again in the 1960s and recorded some of his gospel blues. Long Train Blues, which he recorded in 1930 tells the tale of a lover who has run off on the train.
Too Too Train Blues, Big Bill Broonzy (1932)
There’s some nifty acoustic guitar work here by the hugely talented Bill Broonzy, with another “my baby done left me aboard the train” blues. Broonzy sustained his career successfully from the 1920s to the 1950s, performing both traditional numbers and his own compositions, recording more than 300 songs.
The Midnight Special, Leadbelly (1934)
Recorded in 1934 by Huddie William “Lead Belly” Ledbetter at Angola Prison for John and Alan Lomax, the song has been covered by a host of artists, notably John Fogerty’s Creedance Clearwater Revival. The Midnight Special is said to be the name of a train that left Houston at midnight, heading west, running past Sugarland prison farm, the train’s light becoming a symbol for freedom for the inmates. The song also references the injustice of black men being incarcerated for minor infractions.
Love in Vain, Robert Johnson (1937)
Famously covered by the Rolling Stones for their 1969 Let It Bleed album which featured some tasty electric slide guitar, Love in Vain is a Robert Johnson song recorded in his last studio session in 1937. Johnson’s guitar work is outstanding, as is his singing. The sense of loss is palpable, and you hear Johnson crying out his lover Willie Mae’s name near the end of the song.
This Train, Rosetta Tharpe (1939)
This old gospel song has been around since the 1920s and has been extensively recorded. Bruce Springsteen’s Land of Hope and Dreams takes This Train as its starting point but reworks the ideas of the original so that everybody can get aboard. Tharpe’s more original version has “everybody riding in Jesus’ name”; it’s a “clean train, which won’t take “jokers, tobacco chewers and no cigar smokers.” The song was a hit for Tharpe in the late ‘30s and again in the ‘50s. This live performance gives some sense of what an expressive and incredible performer Tharpe was, not to mention her impressive guitar chops. The 1939 version was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame
Lonesome Train, Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee (1952)
Just a great train song, with Sonny Terry’s harp driving the train down the track in this instrumental track. There are a few “whoooos” hollered along the way by the duo, who had a 35-year partnership. A masterclass in harp playing. The song was recorded by Sonny Terry in 1952 along with the Night Owls.
Mystery Train, Junior Parker (1953)
Mississippi bluesman Parker’s 1953 hit inspired a number of later versions, notably Paul Butterfield Blues Band’s take in 1965. In Parker’s version the drums mimic the rattle of the train on the track and the tenor sax the wail of the whistle. Butterfield adds a nice bit of harmonica.
Southbound Train, Muddy Waters (1957)
This is another Big Bill Broonzy song from 1957, which Muddy Waters recorded on his tribute to Broonzy in 1960, Muddy Waters Sings “Big Bill.” Broonzy had mentored Waters when he came to Chicago. Waters version isn’t too far removed from Broonzy’s, both piano driven blues, but Water’s version features some nice harp from James Cotton. The song has the singer heading South to the lowlands to escape his faithless lover.
Freight Train, Elizabeth Cotton (1957)
The song actually is about dying and being laid to rest at the end of Chesnut Street, so “I can hear “old number 9 as she comes rolling by.” Remarkable really, when Cotton said she composed the song as a teenager (sometime 1906-1912). She recorded it in 1957 and it’s been covered by many artists, including Peter, Paul & Mary, Joan Baez and Odetta. Cotton was a great guitar picker and this song has been a favourite for aspiring acoustic guitar players to learn. (Guitarist – check out Tommy Emmanuel’s lesson here (easy!!)
Freight Train Blues, Bob Dylan, 1962
Bob Dylan here echoes Elizabeth Cotton’s song in this 1962 recording from his debut album. Dylan tells a tongue-in-cheek but atmospheric story of poverty, rambling and the freight train. It’s typical early Dylan, all strummed acoustic guitar and harmonica.
Freedom Train, James Carr (1969)
A 1969 R&D hit for James Carr, Freedom Train reflects the Civil Rights movement of the sixties: “It’s time for all the people to take this freedom ride, Got to together and work for freedom side by side.” Born in Mississippi, Carr grew up singing in the church, but his R&D success led to his being called “the world’s greatest R&D singer.”
Hear My Train A-Coming, Jimi Hendrix (1971)
Hendix’s train song is typical Hendrix – overdriven, psychedelic guitar pulsing. It’s on his 1971 Rainbow Bridge album, but Hendrix performed the song in a BBC performance in 1967. He has also been recorded doing an acoustic version of the song on a 12-string guitar, giving it a Delta blues sound, Hendrix clearly familiar with the style of the acoustic blues masters of the past. Here’s some rare footage of Jimi Hendrix playing acoustic guitar.
Get Onboard, Eric Bibb (2008)
The title track of blues troubadour Eric Bibb’s 2008 album. Bibb, in his customary positive fashion, wants us to get on board the “love train.” There’s “room for everybody,” he sings as the band, including some nice harmonica, rattles us down the track.
Slow Train, Hans Theessink, 2012
Good times, bad times, tired and weary – Dutch guitarist and songwriter Hans Theessink has been singing the blues for a very long time and knows how to craft a blues song. This one is from his excellent 2012 Slow Train album, and features Theessink’s superb acoustic finger-picking and his rich bass-baritone voice.
When My Train Pulls In, Gary Clark Jr. (2013)
“Everywhere I go I keep seeing the same old thing & I, I can’t take it no more,” sings Clark, surely against the backdrop of racism in America. Hailing from Texas, the Grammy winning Clark is an outstanding guitarist and prolific live performer. This performance of the song which appears on his 2013 Blak and Blu album, showcases Clark’s guitar chops and his classy vocals.
Train to Nowhere, J J Cale (2014)
Eric Clapton recorded this previously unreleased J J Cale song on his tribute to Cale, The Breeze in 2014. The song features Mark Knopfler singing and playing guitar and is both unmistakably a J J Cale song and a train song. The lyrics look to be about that last train ride we all have to take and are a little bleak.
This Train, Joe Bonamassa (2016)
It’s full steam ahead for Joe’s train, in this case his baby who “comes down like a hammer” and “hurts him bad.” It’s all good stuff, with the usual Bonamassa guitar pyrotechnics. But Bonamassa has become a fine singer as well, which This Train amply demonstrates. The song is on his 2016 Blues of Desperation album, but there are some great live versions available too.
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