Much has been written over the years about one Robert Johnson. His sudden prowess, his weakness for drink and women, his unclear burial location and his profound effect on blues buffs and players alike has been documented to incredible extremes by writers from many walks of life. To this end, a brief smattering of trivia is required to catch up the first-timers.
The brevity of Johnson’s catalogue has meant that collections of this type present the willing participant with a neat synopsis of his recordings. The 14 songs presented on Sweet Home Chicago (partnered with various out-takes) give a respectable introduction to the lexicon of this Delta-based man of mystery.
Re-packaged with a subtle sheen, these well respected studies in acoustic blues still carry the erratic timing, primitivist howl and natural strength that Johnson is known for. Many will be familiar with other artists renditions of these songs; both Keb Mo and the Stones have done turns on Come On In My Kitchen, Clapton not only covered Cross Road Blues, but also named his rehab centre after it, and Peter Green and his Splinter Group formed primarily to pay homage to Johnson (it was, reportedly, a friend playing Milk Cow Calf Blues that brought Green out of his debilitating mental illness, though the track is not included here).
Robert Plant even titled his solo work album I Lacks A Nickel after a story told by Johnson’s label boss and friend Don Law about his charges’ inability to pay a woman for her company, and when Plant teamed up with his old sparring partner Mr. Page they recorded Walking Into Clarksdale, named after Johnsons birthplace.
But enough of the history lesson. What’s this album actually like? As an old-as-the-mountains turnaround forms the intro to Kindhearted Woman Blues one thing is clear; this is far removed from the Pro-Tooled, autotuned world of today. Recorded into a single microphone in the corner of a room, straight onto wax, these songs are truly human, the way their author intended. One particular aspect of Johnsons’ music that will stick out to the more string-orientated listener is how varied and unpredictable the guitar work is.
Sections end prematurely, clearly having served their purpose to our protagonist. Trying to play along to this on first listen ( ‘oh it’s just a blues mate’) is therefore very frustrating, not to mention difficult in the first instance owing to the amount of musical content included. Several times during listening you’ll find yourself checking to confirm that this is indeed the work of just one man. Clapton himself once stated that Johnsons’ recorded output covered all of his desires musically, and it’s not hard to see why.
Bass lines, rhythm parts and lead breaks all intertwine as naturally as dust across a barren plain. The second version of Ramblin’ On My Mind illustrates this phenomenon well, sounding harried, as well as slightly manic in its delivery. The slide work is something truly special – no Malmsteen/Reed histrionics here, just sections that will have you scratching your head as to how they have been accomplished.
Rustic and compelling, the only thing missing from this collection is the rest of Johnsons’ music. Collected and contextualised in its entirety on The Robert Johnson Connection, this 3 disc set comes with his influences (disc one), his music (disc two), and his influence (disc three). Though that arrangement may provide a broader overview of this conjectural legend, Sweet Home Chicago is a great introduction to the man who sold his soul, and a concise reminder to those of you already familiar with his work. No Hellhound On My Trail or If I Had Possession Over Judgement Day is a real shame, if I had to be pedantic. A highly worthy and worthwhile purchase.
NB: for more information on Johnsons’ past, check out the wonderful Chasin’ That Devil Music by Gayle Dean Wardlow, as exciting and grass roots a publication on this topic as you are likely to encounter, and a marvellous illustration of one man’s commitment.