CHICKEN, GRAVY & BISCUITS
As it turned out, though, the future hasn’t quite fulfilled the promise. Fits and starts characterize Lil’ Ed’s career. When he’s on, he’s one of the most spectacular showmen in blues, culminating his performances by doing crotch-splitting deep knee bends and leaping atop his sidemen, all the while firing out searing treble screams with his slide. He’s one of the few artists whose live performances and records sustain the same level of high-energy exuberance.
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But initial success came rapidly for the young west-sider, perhaps too rapidly. Like many before him, Ed soon became enmeshed in a series of musical and personal mishaps that resulted in a series of blown gigs, fired bandsmen, and an eventual period of mandatory rest and relaxation during which he pretty much dropped out of sight. He resurfaced a few weeks ago for a couple of triumphant Chicago-area press release parties for this LP, but even these found him having problems with punctuality. He still hasn’t resumed regular road work.
The only drawback to this disc, first encountered on “Master Charge,” is an occasional tendency to fall into a vamping groove and repeat it past the point of monotony. This kind of thing works fine in live performance, but on record, without the sweaty exuberance of the moment, it can get stale in a hurry. Maybe it’s time for Alligator to rethink its famous one-take, “live gig in the studio” technique of recording Lil’ Ed. Nonetheless, the song kicks along in fine rowdy fashion, with Ed’s inspired leads buoyed by the newfound sophistication of the sidemen. I only wish it’d been about a minute shorter, and that the dwindling-down-to-nothing ending had been better worked out.
“Got My Mind Made Up” is sandwiched comfortably beween two up-tempo barn burners, the wonderfully titled “Face Like a Fish” and the final cut, “Blues Imperials Theme.” This last one is a perfect closer: it starts out with a pastiche of slide licks, again beginning where Uncle J.B. left off, starting with Hutto’s trademark flailing triplets laid over the 4/4 shuffle rhythm and then soaring into ecstatic high-treble screams. Ed gives each musician his chance to stretch out, and they make the most of it–Garrett’s solo consists primarily of his sure-handed rhythm style amplified to a raucous shout; bassist Young steps in with some string-popping blues funk, the kind you hear in neighborhood clubs played by musicians equally influenced by blues tradition and post-60s pop; Littleton finally gets a chance to strut his straightforward blues percussion technique.
