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JOHN
LONG "LOST & FOUND"
Source: Living Blues
Magazine
Date: 04/2006
Writer: justin O'Brien |
This
is the first I’ve heard of St. Louis–born
guitarist Johnny Long since he left Chicago about
30 years ago, reportedly to room in Denver with
his mentor Homesick James Williamson. Even then
Long possessed an amazing grasp of his adopted
prewar Delta blues, so it’s hard to believe
that only now at age 56 he has his first recording.
Long’s
well-practiced country blues guitar and seasoned
voice have a decided authority. He ably approximates
Robert Johnson’s powerful cadences, Charley
Patton’s gruffness, Tommy Johnson’s
octave jumps, plus all the indispensable whoops,
howls, comic asides, and near yodels of country
blues. Even his minor slip-ups have an authenticity
to them, being errors an originator might have
made.
Each
of the eleven originals was written or co-written
with his brother, Claude, and one is credited
solely to Claude. Leavin’ St. Louis is
presented twice: acoustic solo and electric
with Fred Kaplan on piano, for a total of twelve.
The
influence of Robert Johnson is unmistakable
on the bedrock opening track, Hokum Town, while
Greyhound Driver is solidly in the mode of Muddy
Waters’ earliest electric slide guitar
work. Long’s playing on Stranglevine and
Hell Cat, accompanied by Fred Kaplan’s
fine physical piano work, suggests Scrapper
Blackwell and Leroy Carr, or Tampa Red dueting
with Big Maceo.
On
Healin’ Touch Long’s rack harmonica
playing distantly suggests Big Walter Horton’s
take on Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.
It’s perhaps his most ambitious number,
but one on which he doesn’t get the full
handle.
Throughout,
Long uses his strong foot patting to great effect,
and on both versions of Leavin’ St. Louis
he demonstrates his unerring rhythmic drive,
aided by Jimmy Reed– style harp on the
acoustic version and Elmore James–style
slide on the electric one.
Long
has a flair for direct storytelling as well
as understated comic lyrics. In Pressure Cooker,
he has fun using the appliance as a metaphor
for a tense relationship, and his Mean Old Rootin’
Ground Sloth, will “kill a cow, throw
it over his shoulder and be on his merry way.”
Additionally Long has an amusing way of dropping
in references to jogging, soap operas and light
rail public transportation without breaking
his old-timey persona.
John
Long and this CD ought to be nominees for a
number of year-end awards, especially best debut. |
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