WHITE WINDOWS
David “Honeyboy” Edwards Blue Suit 102
Conventional wisdom has been that Edwards’s music, while still interesting, has declined in recent years. The driving impetus of his rhythm work–interspersed with fiercely picked flurries at eccentric tempos that showed the influence of Big Joe Williams–has largely given way to simple walking-bass patterns only occasionally interrupted by leads that are sometimes imaginative, sometimes weak or even dissonant. But his voice retains a good measure of the dark urgency he acquired working with Patton and House, and his slide playing is still effective.
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This LP is an accurate portrayal of the current state of Honeyboy Edwards’s art, but it takes a while to show him to his best advantage. “West Helena Blues,” the opening cut, features his smooth vamping bass line and still-powerful voice, imbued with appropriate country mournfulness. But the treble work is sloppy to the point of being irritating. Obviously, the intent was to capture some of the spontaneous informality of a folk style, and the overall feel is that of an elderly gentleman on a back porch picking acoustic guitar for his own amusement. Authentic, to be sure, but one wonders whether this is really LP-quality material.
Edwards’s LPs and live shows in recent years have been characterized by attempts to update his sound by inserting more modern material into the set. It doesn’t always work. His version of “Next Time You See Me” on his late-70s Folkways LP sounded forced; his live performances of it are sometimes almost embarrassing. On this record Edwards takes on Tampa Red’s “Don’t You Lie to Me” with a little more success. He sounds uncomfortable flailing away at some of the chords, and the song itself isn’t really suited to Honeyboy’s musical sensibilities; Tampa’s sly urban sophistication was as different from Edwards’s Delta roots as anything could be. But there’s a nice interplay between bass line and chording toward the end, and Edwards concludes the tune with an engaging combination of passion and understatement.
In recent years the stylistic mix of Big Daddy and the boys has become increasingly strained. The younger Kinseys have grown farther and farther from their father’s blues roots. These days they often perform without him, concentrating on pop-reggae, funk, and contemporary rhythm and blues. When he does front them, he roars out straight-ahead Chicago blues and showcases his stinging slide-guitar work, while the band does its best to rein in its excesses and provide an understated accompaniment.
“Dancin’ Shoes”–based loosely on several standards (“High Heel Sneakers,” “Everything Gonna Be All Right”)–again kicks off in a steamy Cotton-like blues-funk vein. But before long Donald Kinsey’s solo cuts in with fierce authority, running the length of the fret board and placing the song firmly in the 80s; his playing on this cut is lithe without being overbearing. Out in front, Big Daddy’s voice manages to sound lecherous, aggressive, and mellow at the same time.
