Album Review

If you enjoyed the previous Otis Spann album on Barnaby (Otis Spann Is the Blues, Barnaby 30246, a reissue of the 1961 Candid LP), you're sure to find this set even more to your liking. While it was recorded at the same time as the earlier album, this set has never been issued before, and what makes this present release even more pleasurable is the fact that this album is even better than its predecessor.

With very slight differences, the format on this album is much like that of the earlier one: just a man alone with the blues. No band, no paired guitars, harmonica or rhythm section. Just Spann himself singing and playing the blues and boogie-woogie, on a few tracks being joined only by guitarist Robert Lockwood. However, on this set, instead of Lock-wood's singing, we are treated to four vocals by Spann's close friend St. Louis Jimmy Oden, one of the blues' more durable composers (among other songs, he wrote the classic "Going Down Slow").

What makes this set of performances better than the earlier one is the consistently higher quality of the music making. Spann is at the very top of his game, singing and playing with unaffected good spirits, great depth of feeling, and absolutely perfect rhythmic relaxation–the most crucial foundation of good blues performances.

And Spann turns in some gems–three superlative instrumentals, "Otis' Blues," "This Is the Blues" and "Walking the Blues," all marked by sustained creative improvising and unflagging invention. Also four expressive direct vocals, "It Must Have Been the Devil," "Half Ain't Never Been Told," "Evil Ways" (not the Santana tune) and "My Home Is on the Delta." Spann was not one of the blues' great vocal stylists but he had a pleasantly easy-going manner of singing which, coupled with the dark graininess of his vocal timbre and his unerring rhythmic resilience, made for greatly effective vocals. And his honest conviction shines through like a pure flame. It's all here–beautifully recorded, to boot. All of which makes his passing harder to bear.

Jimmy Oden's taut, rather jerky vocal style may not be to every blues fan's taste, particularly if one is used to the supple, more legato vocal phrasing of the modern blues, but it's good to have these four samples of Oden's music on record. And it was typical of Spann's expansiveness of spirit that, even though he was just beginning to carve out a career of his own and could have profited from the record exposure, he would rescue a veteran blues artist from ill-deserved neglect by inviting him to share a record date.

The album is further recommended for its impressive playing time–almost 45 minutes of pure, unalloyed blues. Spann's indomitable spirit lives on in this album, one of his very best and a fine introduction to his rich, strong, exciting way with the blues.

A little bit of Memphis Slim goes a long way, I find, and a double album of his exuberantly routine music amounts to an embarrassment of very small riches–kind of like getting two dollars in pennies. Now, Slim's an engaging and likable entertainer who's made a number of enjoyable records and written some nice songs over a long career but he's not the deeply profound or emotionally potent bluesman that Spann, for example, was. Slim hasn't the same degree of interpretive strength, either as singer or as instrumentalist; his gifts are of a lesser order, his music narrower in its range, less ambitious in its goals. It charms rather than convinces.

All of which means that Slim needs the benefit of tight, well-focused musical direction and topnotch production if his records are to succeed. In a way, he has to be made to appear even better than he is: song materials and accompanists have to be selected carefully; his talents must be framed by attractive, clever arrangements; in short, every device that can lend excitement, variety and interest to his largely one-dimensional music must be lavished on his recordings. Otherwise they rarely attain anything more than the humdrum.

Which is what happens here. Like the Spann album, the format is low-keyed and freewheeling. Slim and his two associates, guitarist Arbee Stidham and harmonica player Jazz Gillum, who also share the vocals with him, work their way through a program of blues standards and "tributes" to various bluesmen with whom they've been associated or have had contact. Nothing wrong with that of course–it's a logical, or at least easy, way for a producer to record musicians with whom he has no familiarity, and it does result in a selection of strong, well-proven song materials. But the format is in and of itself not enough; the performances must be strong and compelling, and this is where this album falls down–and badly too.

The album sounds exactly like what it is–a freely-associated, unplanned program of music that was recorded at one sitting and with no retakes. Every tune sounds like a first take: sloppy to a greater or lesser degree, tossed off with almost total diffidence and, worse, mistake-riddled. Slim in particular screws up on just about every number he plays; his fingering mistakes abound, and noticeably. Then there's the matter of faulty intonation: Stidham's guitar is badly out of tune with the piano throughout the four sides. Apparently no attempt was made to sharpen his tuning at any time during what must have been a long recording session. Fortunately he doesn't play on every selection but those on which he's heard are extremely hard to listen to without wincing–that is, if you have a decent sense of pitch. If you're tone deaf it won't matter, of course. But maybe that's who these recordings were aimed at. And if you can't hear all the bad notes then the fact that the performances are not terribly exciting or convincing won't bother you either.

With so many Memphis Slim albums available there's little reason to invest in this sloppy, undistinguished set, even at its "special low price." A lot of poor or mediocre performances are not my idea of a bargain. Ain't no way that quantity can be transmuted into quality, after all. (RS 117)

PETE WELDING

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