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…

It's unfortunate that Tom Rush's third album has such a strong reputation among rock listeners – not that it doesn't deserve it, but it sort of distracts them from this album, which was as natural a fit for rock listeners as any folk album of its era. Rush's debut album is filled with a hard, bluesy brand of folk music that's hard on the acoustic guitar strings and not much easier on his voice; he sings stuff like "Long John" and "If Your Man Gets Busted" with a deep, throaty baritone that's only a little less raw than John Hammond's was while doing his work of the same era. Rush had the misfortune to be equated with Bob Dylan, but he had a more easygoing and accessible personality that comes out on numbers here such as Woody Guthrie's "Do-Re-Mi" and Kokomo Arnold's "Milkcow Blues," which are thoroughly enjoyable and quietly (but totally) beguiling. Additionally, he isn't such a purist that he felt above covering a Leiber & Stoller number such as "When She Wants Good Lovin'."

Bobby Rush was a journeyman blues singer, most famous for the novelty hit "Chicken Heads." On this album, however, he took his decades of his experience and his close study of Howlin' Wolf and made an urban blues album for his times, incorporating touches of Philadelphia soul, street-corner harmonies, and the rhythms of the pulpit. He tackled modern injustice ("Evil Is") alongside Seventies sexual mores ("I Can't Find My Keys"); Rush Hour was the first album in a sequence of ever-stranger "folk-funk" explorations. What We Said Then: "Rush Hour is so weird that it's a wonder George Clinton didn't think of it first. . .What emerges is outrageous and stunning. . .In a time when most black pop music sounds machine crafted, this record is more than an anomaly. Rush Hour is a tribute to resilience–a sign that the lessons Howlin' Wolf and his peers learned and taught have been neither lost nor forgotten. You're going to need something like this to get you through the Eighties".

Otis Rush's crunching guitar and vocals were never more emphatic than during the '70s when it seemed that he would actually find the pop attention and mass stardom he deserved. These mid-'70s tracks were originally cut for the Black and Blue label, with Rush playing grinding, relentless riffs and creating waves of sonic brilliance through creatively repeated motifs, jagged notes, and sustained lines and licks, while hollering, screaming, moaning, and wailing. Jimmy Dawkins, an outstanding lead artist in his own right, has also long been one of Chicago's great rhythm artists and shows it by adding plenty of tinkling, crackling figures and lines in the backgrounds. While not as consistently riveting as his live Evidence date, this one is also a valuable Rush document.