JOHN LONG "LOST & FOUND" Source: Edmonton Sun Date: 05/2006 Writer: Jeremy Loome

5 out of 5

There aren't many modern players who capture the true feeling of the early Delta blues. It's been said before that far too many players sound like they're trying to channel a textbook.

Then along comes John Long. Despite being a skinny white guy, Long evokes the feel of old Son House and Charlie Patton cuts so effectively it's eerie. It's as if someone cryogenically revived the late archivist Alan Lomax and sent him back in time to 1930, armed with state-of-the-art modern recording devices and techniques.

According to Delta Groove, Long was once hailed by Muddy Waters as being the best modern country blues player he'd heard. When Waters allegedly said this seems obscure at best, as the reference doesn't seem to be in print. And, like B.B. King, Waters declared a busload of youngsters the next big thing over the years, so the real worth of the quote is all relative. But he'd have been spot on.

Until now, Long has had the usual handful of obscure blues cuts, along with sidework over the years with Homesick James Williamson, the cousin of Elmore James and a great Chicago bluesman in his own right. What a shame.

Long's guitar attack is both stinging and smooth, rhythmic and chunkily syncopated, a blend of contradictions as obvious as ... well, a skinny white guy with a name straight out of the Delta ("He Long John, He long gone, To the county farm" as they'd sing in the cotton fields) who sounds like Son House.

The disc is sparse, and typically is just Long accompanied by his slide, acoustic guitar and harmonica, sounding very much vocally as if House had dropped in on a Snooks Eaglin recording session and laid down some tracks, with House's slapping style of picking in evidence here as well, laying bare Long's influences.

There's some nice piano work too, but if you're looking for rip-snorting electric blues, look elsewhere.

That isn't to say this is all depressing stuff - the blues have always been about evoking and exorcising life's frustrations, and that can include infusions of humour, such as the frustrated husband in Pressure Cooker who laments that he's going hungry while his wife watches soaps on TV.

House isn't the only influence here. Stranglevine evokes pianist and lyrical genius Leroy Carr, while Johnny's Jump kicks off reminiscent of Jimmy Rogers.

As with his peer Watermelon Slim, Long's work is all original and yet manages to truly capture the soul and spirit behind the blues that die-hard fans regard as essential. Players who complain that such intolerant hardcore fans are "blues Nazis," as is sometimes suggested, are missing the point. If they want to understand it, maybe they need to listen to John Long.