 BUCK WILD: but even Aerosmith's blues-based release Honkin' on Bobo couldn't revive the genre's mainstream appeal.
B.B. King, who turns 80 in September, has been alive almost as long as the blues has been recorded. He’s practically a living metaphor for the music: afflicted with diabetes, arthritis, and bad knees, his voice and energy a little worn, but with his dignity intact and, when he’s able to reach his peak, still full of soul and grace. For the past two years, blues albums have held tenaciously at less than one percent of the recorded-music market. Important clubs like the original House of Blues in Cambridge and the New York institutions Manny’s Car Wash and Chicago Blues are gone, as are the Kansas City Blues Festival and many smaller, regional fests around the country. In his later years, John Lee Hooker used to say, "When they bury me, they’re gonna bury the blues aside of me." His observation has seemed almost prophetic since his death in 2001 as journeymen artists have struggled for gigs and record deals and the second generation of electric-bluesmen — today led by King and Buddy Guy — has either passed on or, like R.L. Burnside and Jessie Mae Hemphill, been forced into retirement by poor health. The year 2003 was the Year of the Blues because Congress and connected members of the industry deemed it so, but there were few rallying points for the genre save for King’s pop-chart-topping collaboration with Eric Clapton, Riding with the King (Reprise), and the Martin Scorsese Presents: The Blues PBS-TV documentaries. These did not improve the lot of most artists or business in general. This year, there were even fewer seismic ticks for the genre in the mainstream. The most popular blues-fueled CDs were Eric Clapton’s ossified take on Robert Johnson’s catalogue, Me and Mr. Johnson (Reprise), and Aerosmith’s buck-wild Honkin’ on Bobo (Columbia). Both artists’ previous releases outsold these by far. The blues’ economic blues didn’t stop some of its best practitioners from making superb albums. The finest was harmonica giant Charlie Musselwhite’s Sanctuary (Real World), a collection of mostly autobiographical songs that pushed the music’s sonic boundaries while remaining faithful to its heart. Crescent City piano man Dr. John managed to boil all his styles into N’Awlinz: Dis Dat or d’Udda (Blue Note). But hands down the sweetest, most emotional 2004 blues disc was by the Cambridge-based duo Paul Rishell and Annie Raines, whose Goin’ Home (Tone-Cool) dipped into almost every font of the genre with grace and authenticity. Cutting-edge songwriter Otis Taylor weighed in with Double V (Telarc), and Bobby Rush made the superbly down-home Folk Funk (Deep Rush). New Fat Possum signing Charles Caldwell died of cancer before his raw first album, Remember Me, was released. But Lil Joe Washington, an actual street survivor, made his local debut at Blues Trust’s free Boston Blues Festival following his tough Houston Ghetto Blues (Dialtone), and Mavis Staples came to the Orpheum after her first disc of new material in more than a decade, Have a Little Faith in Me (Alligator). Vintage CDs continued to play an important and thorny role in blues. The previously unreleased acoustic Jack O’Diamonds: 1949 Recordings (Eagle) was a potent reminder of John Lee Hooker. And Big Mama Thornton with the Muddy Waters Blues Band — 1966 (Arhoolie) was the best reissue of the year. Muddy Waters’ late career capper, Hard Again (Epic/Legacy), also got a dose of Viagra. The trouble is, how do new CDs by relatively unknown artists compete against the likes of Muddy, John Lee, and Big Mama? Reissues win the battle not only for consumers’ dollars but often for airtime, too, which has grown more precious under the sway of radio industry corporatization and the weak economy. In the Boston area, we’re lucky to have many blues programs and dedicated disc jockeys on college radio and on the mainstream stations WBOS and WZLX, plus Brendan Hogan Saturday nights on WGBH, that routinely feature new acts. The immediate prognosis for blues isn’t great. "I don’t see the market improving dramatically until the emergence of another blues icon," says Bruce Iglauer, president of the world’s leading independent blues label, Alligator Records. But while we’re waiting for that icon, great music will continue to be made and profoundly good performers will continue to make it — especially if they have the support of dedicated, musically adventurous fans. Old heroes like King, Guy, Etta James, Koko Taylor, Solomon Burke, Charlie Musselwhite, and Honeyboy Edwards are still putting blood into the music’s past, though some of them might not be around much longer. Visionary relative newcomers like Otis Taylor and the Afro-blues fusionist Corey Harris are working hard to ensure that the style will have a future. With musicians like these performing and CD reissues that cover virtually the entire history of the music now available, there’s no better time — dire as it may be — to discover the blues.
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