THAT WOMAN IS POISON!
Thomas’s musical history is intertwined with the development of the Memphis R & B scene. In the early 50s, his growling, declamatory “Bear Cat” (a variation on Big Mama Thornton’s theme in “Hound Dog”) was the first hit for Sam Phillips’s soon-to-be-legendary Sun record company. In the 60s, Sun changed its name to Stax and forged the sound that became a prototype for soul music of the next decade; Thomas stayed on with such stars as Otis Redding, Booker T. and the MGs, and Sam and Dave. “The Funky Chicken” and “Walkin’ the Dog” date from this period.
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Like many R & B artists, Thomas has found his greatest commercial success with novelty material and a flamboyant showmanship. In live performance, decked out in baby-blue hot pants and mugging outrageously, he reveals little of the deep-running love for the Memphis blues heritage that informs the best of his recorded material. Newcomers to his records are often surprised to hear thoughtful lyrics about black history and achievement in the middle of a dance tune (“Git On Up and Do It”) or a smoldering soul ballad sung with dusky sensual grace (“Baby It’s Real”). It’s this underlying seriousness that continues to make Thomas relevant despite changing tastes. Even at his most fun-loving, Thomas realizes that there’s a difference between getting the job done and taking care of business.
Thomas is one of R & B’s most entertaining performers, and this entire LP has an uninhibited feel usually associated with a live recording; it sounds like a tightly rehearsed house band cutting loose in some elegant chitlins-circuit nightclub. The combination of sophisticated musicianship and jam-session spontaneity is one of the most successful things about the album.
Listening to this LP, I’m struck by how well Thomas has created something of value out of what amounts to the rudiments of the Memphis tradition. True, the orchestration is put together with both musical sophistication and an ear toward the contemporary preference for blues smoothness; but the heart of this LP is the deeply passionate commitment with which Thomas approaches no-nonsense blues and soul. His penchant for quotes and references never suggests a paucity of original ideas, as it so often does; it’s a joyful celebration of roots. And the slick arrangements seldom intrude. Only on “Blues in the Basement” does the swinging elegance of the band sound out of place with the lyrics (“Blues in the basement / Me and all these rats”). Even here, the soloists strut their stuff with enough aplomb to rescue the song from embarrassment.
