Americana Music Reviews

 

John Mooney
All I Want
Blind Pig Records

by Jud Block

Fans of blues music, especially purists, can be real tight-asses. They all believe that when it comes to defining who or what falls within that august category, they each possess a little bit of irrefutable Truth. They, for instance, will argue to the point of physical conflict such subjective topics as who's the best blues guitarist ever or the best blues singer without realizing once that it is all just a matter of opinion. Most have very little, if any, sense of humor and, paradoxically, the most outspoken on the topic of a music that began, as far as written history is concerned, in the drudgery of the cotton fields, are white. That is why it is always surprising to hear, even today, the occasional heated discussion over whether or not a white person can play the blues. Blues, like racism, is neither a geographical nor an ethnic anomaly; instead, it is a universal emotion experienced at one time or another by damn near everyone, so why wouldn't a white person be able to play the blues? Of course, we lighties haven't always provided the most compelling arguments, what with Corey Stevens, Jonny Lang, and Shannon Curfman having done their virulent best to create a modern day minstrel show, but there are enough good white players around to render any questions concerning race and the blues inane. And for the few Thomases out there who are still having trouble crossing that color line, John Mooney's latest, All I Want, should set you to steppin'.

When I first heard John Mooney way back in the last century, I was hooked from the very first note of his guitar. But when I finally saw Mr. Mooney, I had the same trouble reconciling his look with his sound that I did when I first saw Goethe spelled. Here was this big, black voice coming out of this obviously white man, and the music was some of the funkier blues I had heard this side of Professor Longhair. I then learned that he was a protégé of the one and only Son House, and all the pieces began to slowly slide into place. Mooney's music is a deceptively simple mix of delta blues and N'awlins second line funk, and he is one of the, if not the, best slide guitar players I have ever heard. His guitar does not try to grab the listener's attention with a banshee wail, but instead subtly confounds you with a complex swirl of picks, slides, and strums that will often leave you swearing you are hearing two guitarists.

The opening track, "All I Want," is a simple plea for requited love set to a hard driving rhythm that is firmly based in the country blues of the North Mississippi. The lyrics are simple and emotional, and the guitar runs are the equivalent of watching a hubcap spin so fast it appears to be going backward. It's the perfect soundtrack to walking down some desolate back road in the sweltering heat; in fact, when it's all over, don't be surprised if you feel a little grit in your teeth.

All I want
Is to have you right here by my side
All I want
Is to keep you satisfied
And when you love me baby
You look at me in the eyes

Mooney's "Baby Please" is unadulterated delta slide blues, but he adds a twist by playing it unaccompanied on an electric guitar. This is the sound of midnight in the Mississippi woods. Anyone who is not a cat lover can sympathize with the sentiment expressed in this song of being tormented by something that you really want nothing to do with, in this case a woman. Mooney's intricate guitar playing, which combines sliding and picking, makes it sometimes sound as though there is a second player on the track with him. There isn't.

Whoa, I'm begging you
What do you want poor me to do?
Whoa, I'm begging please
What do you want with poor me?

The entire CD does an excellent job of mixing electric and acoustic blues, both originals and remakes. My favorite song on the disc falls into the latter category and is a remake of a song by Mooney's mentor called "Son's Blues." If Son had managed to get his hands on an electric guitar, I imagine it would've sounded a lot like this. Mooney's voice even takes on aspects of Son's, which is no easy task and shows just how strong he is vocally. Wherever Son is now, when he heard this it had to make him smile.

Well you know there ain't no heaven now
No burnin' hell
Where I go when I die
Can't nobody tell
I say there ain't no heaven now, honey
Honey, there ain't no burnin' hell
Where I'm goin' can't nobody tell

Of the eleven tracks, Mooney wrote five, and there is not a weak song in the bunch. John Mooney attacks every song as though his soul depended on it, and, considering his tumultuous background, he may just feel that it does. This is harrowing, toe-tapping blues from a white boy who has shaken hands with the devil and benefited from the experience.

* Do something good for your soul and go to www.blindpigrecords.com to pick up All I Want.


Contact Jud Block at jud-at-rockzilla.net

 
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