Another fantastic share from the esteemed Rambling Rolf. Thank you, my friend.
Of all the tortured souls in the pantheon of blues musicians, none seemed more tormented than Eddie "Son" House (1902?-1988). Was his well-documented wavering between the bottle and the Bible the cause of his inner demons or merely symptomatic of a more significant psychological issue? Whatever the particulars, it is tempting to think that such spiritual struggles helped create such a gripping body of artistic work, one that includes some of the most emotionally resonant-sounding blues performances ever committed to wax. House became a significantly more prominent figure in the genre's history than his relatively small prewar recording output would initially suggest, with much of that having to do with his prominent incorporation of gospel elements into his playing style and his subsequent rediscovery in 1964.
SON HOUSE IN CONCERT
In spite of the exposure he received during the blues revival in the 1960s, there remain many surprising and underacknowledged aspects to his career. The happy face that House often displayed in photographs belied the fact that he was a barely-functional alcoholic who probably would not have been able to adhere to a touring and recording schedule if not for the patient shepherding of his protective manager Dick Waterman. Fondness of drink coupled with years of musical inactivity rendered the guitarist incapable of performing when first rediscovered. In fact, future member of Canned Heat Al Wilson was integral in reacquainting House with his erstwhile instrument. According to Waterman's recollections as related in Francis Davis's The History of the Blues,
We brought Son to Cambridge, Massachusetts, to get him ready for the Newport Folk Festival (and introduced him to) Al Wilson, who played open-tuning bottleneck and could play all the styles. And he sat down with Son, knee to knee, guitar to guitar, and said, "Okay, this is the figure that in 1930, you called 'My Black Mama,'" and played it for him. And Son said, "Yeah, yeah, that's me, that's me. I played that." And then Al said, "Now about a dozen years later, when Mr. Lomax came around, you changed the name to 'My Black Woman,' and you did it this way." He showed him. And Son would say, "Yeah, yeah. I got my recollection now, I got my recollection now." And he would start to play, and the two of them played together. Then, Al reminded him of how he changed tunings, and played his own "Pony Blues" for him.
There would not have been a rediscovery of Son House in the 1960s without Al Wilson. Really. Al Wilson taught Son House how to play Son House.
In my estimation, however, the most noteworthy misconception involving House concerns the supporting information he allegedly supplied in regard to the naive belief that Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil at a Mississippi Delta crossroads. As discussed in Edward Komara's editor commentary from Chasin' That Devil Music: Searching for the Blues by Gayle Dean Wardlow, it is probable that House's so-called claim of Johnson's pact with Satan all stemmed from a misunderstanding:
Pete Welding's article "Hellhound on his Trail" provided the initial building block to the myth. Son House, as quoted by Welding, "suggested in all seriousness that Johnson, in his months away from home, had 'sold his soul to the devil in exchange for learning to play like that.'" It is likely that House was envious of Johnson's musical skills, rather than awed or horrified at the prospect of any supernatural means of attaining them.
On this matter I spoke with Dick Waterman. He remembered discussing Robert Johnson with the aged bluesman a few times while traveling between concerts. House told Waterman of seeing Johnson returning to Robinsonville after an absence of "a couple of years." Whenever the legend of Johnson and the devil was mentioned, House would dismiss it with a shrug of his shoulders or a wave of his hand. Waterman believes what House said to Welding is strongly dependent on the line of questioning.
SON HOUSE LOOKING LIKE A HARD-BOILED, FEDORA-WEARING,
BLUES GUITAR-PLAYING FILM NOIR PRIVATE DETECTIVE
Nevertheless, Son House's musical identity continues to be strongly tied to his onetime pupil as indicated by the complete title of this album, which consists of recordings made by Yazoo and Blue Goose Records founder Nick Perls at his private studio and in folk clubs during the 1960s. Although The Real Delta Blues features reinterpretations of material that House originally played at his 1930 session for Paramount and 1941-1942 sessions for the Library of Congress as well as versions of songs that would also appear on other post-rediscovery releases, it deserves greater recognition for the intimate quality apparent on each of its 14 tracks. Perls's ear for detail helped him capture performances that may have been beyond the grasp of engineers at studios for larger and better-funded labels. Blues seldom sounds more heart-wrenching than it does on "Milkcow's Calf Blues," "Rochester Blues" (a relatively new composition), "Lake Cormorant Blues" (a rehashing of themes first heard on House's Library of Congress recordings), "Mississippi County Farm Blues," "Pony Blues," and "Trouble Blues." House's legendary stentorian voice sounds just as convincing on the spirituals "I Shall Not Be Moved," "Motherless Children Have a Hard Time," "This Little Light of Mine," and "Lord Have Mercy When I Come to Die," while his earthy slide guitar playing is the focus on the instrumental and near-instrumental pieces "Hobo," "A Down the Staff," "The D.T. Moan," and "Soon in the Morning."
*There seems to be a jump groove on track 2 from the original vinyl rip and possibly on track 8 as well. Of course, these apparent glitches could also just as easily be examples of House flubbing the vocals. Since I don't have the actual LP in my possession, I can't be sure one way or another. Considering the scarcity of this record, I hope that such imperfections don't interfere with your ability to enjoy these performances too much.