Bbobby Rush Rawer Than Raw

Bobby Rush pays homage to the great bluesmen from Mississippi on his 27th studio album 'Rawer Than Raw'. This is Bobby Rush, stripped down–just his guitar, harmonica, singing, and foot tapping. There's a song from Skip James, Robert Johnson, Sonny Boy Williamson, Willie Dixon, and Howlin' Wolf. One song is Public Domain originally recorded for the Library of Congress by Alan Lomax, but later made famous by Muddy Waters (Honey Bee, Sail On).

Now the reigning king of the blues at the age of 89 – after a lifetime of working the fringes, he won two Grammys for Best Traditional Blues Album in 2017 and 2021 – Bobby Rush settles into a comfortable groove on All My Love for You. The title, like Rawer Than Raw before it, offers an indication of what lies within. This 2023 set doesn't aspire to be as, well, raw as its predecessor. This is a bright, largely cheerful affair, filled with punchy rhythms, tart horns, and clean licks. Dialing back his signature raunch a notch, Rush sings with an audible grin throughout the record, and that amiable nature means that the album's title seems plausible: he really is giving the listeners nothing but good vibes.

Just as the title implies, Raw is Bobby Rush at his most elemental: a man, his acoustic guitar, and his foot stamping out a beat on an amplified board. A little harmonica now and then, and a Dobro played with a bottleneck slide on the rollicking "Glad to Get You Back," but that's it for ornamentation. Although most of 13 songs are Rush originals, he also essays three standards, Larry Williams' early rock classic "Boney Maroney," Muddy Waters' "Good Morning Little Schoolgirl," and – fearlessly – "Howlin' Wolf" itself, which he slows down into a funereal dirge. Rush calls his music "folk funk," but in reality, Rush is the modern equivalent of the first country bluesmen, before the moves to Memphis and Chicago added full-band arrangements and electricity. But Rush isn't a hidebound traditionalist attempting to resurrect a past form for its own sake; Raw crackles with the energy of a musician who knows that he's working in the style that best suits his own personal gifts. This is a hundred times more listenable than yet another blues band plodding through a set of tenth-generation rewrites of "Sweet Home Chicago," and could well be the blues recording of 2007.

As the debut act on the fledgling Alligator label, Hound Dog Taylor obviously holds a hallowed place in owner Bruce Iglauer's heart. That has resulted in more posthumous albums (three) from the raw boogie-blues man than "official" ones (two) released in his lifetime. And that's not including the Alligator tribute disc. Iglauer has returned to raid what must be some pretty threadbare vaults by now, to cobble together this 70-minute collection of live tracks, outtakes, and general leftovers. Fortunately, this barrel-scraping has turned up some real gems, although they are far rougher than what is already in Taylor's gritty, gutbucket rocking catalog. Certainly existing fans won't mind. The rawer than raw - but still far better than bootleg - quality tapes are only for those already in Hound Dog's house…

As the debut act on the fledgling Alligator label, Hound Dog Taylor obviously holds a hallowed place in owner Bruce Iglauer's heart. That has resulted in more posthumous albums (three) from the raw boogie-blues man than "official" ones (two) released in his lifetime. And that's not including the Alligator tribute disc. Iglauer has returned to raid what must be some pretty threadbare vaults by now, to cobble together this 70-minute collection of live tracks, outtakes, and general leftovers. Fortunately, this barrel-scraping has turned up some real gems, although they are far rougher than what is already in Taylor's gritty, gutbucket rocking catalog.

As the debut act on the fledgling Alligator label, Hound Dog Taylor obviously holds a hallowed place in owner Bruce Iglauer's heart. That has resulted in more posthumous albums (three) from the raw boogie-blues man than "official" ones (two) released in his lifetime. And that's not including the Alligator tribute disc. Iglauer has returned to raid what must be some pretty threadbare vaults by now, to cobble together this 70-minute collection of live tracks, outtakes, and general leftovers. Fortunately, this barrel-scraping has turned up some real gems, although they are far rougher than what is already in Taylor's gritty, gutbucket rocking catalog. Certainly existing fans won't mind. The rawer than raw - but still far better than bootleg - quality tapes are only for those already in Hound Dog's house…