“Those English boys, they want to play the blues so bad. And they do play it so bad,” Sonny Boy Williamson once said, looking back in humor to the times he went to tour in Europe in the early Sixties, sometimes supported by the Yardbirds or the Animals. It’s a classic quote and a bit unfair (the Yardbirds were just starting out) but it does point up the fact that most of the bands that made up the epochal British rock explosion of the later Sixties were steeped in reverence to the blues, despite the geographical and experiential distance from their heroes.
But nobody could question their sincerity and when the English blues-rock thing really took off a meeting of the minds was bound to happen. The legendary blues (and early rock ‘n’ roll) performers found their commercial fortunes fading, overtaken by R&B, Motown and funk. For the Brits, the legitimacy conferred and the fun to be had jamming with these legends was a no-brainer. When a Chess Records producer, after watching a Cream concert at the old Fillmore West, asked Eric Clapton if he would like to do an album with Howlin’ Wolf the die was cast. Although the record would not get recorded for another couple of years, it would set the pace for a notable mini-genre of “London Sessions” projects that would hit the market in the early Seventies.
The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions (1971)
So the Wolf album would be the first of these, the Chess label would follow with three others, listed chronologically below. It could be argued that this is the best of them; it certainly had the best cover art (see banner image. Chess followed the formula of having illustrated covers showing their subject in London-themed settings. While the other three are a bit cartoonish, this one has a handsome drawing of the Big Guy surveying the Piccadilly Circus scene while seated with his guitar case under the Eros statue, while a chap who looks like Clapton plays on a lower step.
Eric certainly wasn’t going to waste an opportunity like this and he brings his A-game, pealing off any number of torrid solos on his trusty Stratocaster. Wolf brought along right-hand man Hubert Sumlin to set the pace on rhythm guitar, while Rolling Stones’ Charlie Watts and Bill Wyman laid the foundation for an energetic set of blues classics. The devotion to this Chicago blues legend was undeniable: the Stones’ insisted on Wolf as a guest when they appeared on the American TV music show “Shindig,” while Slowhand had been tapping the Wolf songbook for years (all but two of these twelve songs are credited to him—Chester Burnett—or his go-to guy Willie Dixon) and Cream’s 16-minute version of “Spoonful” is the stuff of acid-rock lore.
With the bedrock of Sumlin and this trio, plus either Steve Winwood or “sixth Stone” Ian Stewart on keyboards, Wolf fronts a strong collection of his well-known 12-bar tunes, in great voice and seemingly high spirits. You get “I Ain’t Superstitious,” “Sitting on Top of the World,” “Built for Comfort,” “Do the Do” and trademark numbers, all expertly played and well produced by Chicago bluesologist Norman Dayron. And if their was any question as to who was in charge here, listen to the practice take of “Little Red Rooster.” The imperious Wolf is showing the young guns how the intro should be done by playing it on his acoustic when Clapton tries to get him to play on the final: “Nah, man, come on!” The album was well-reviewed and made a respectable chart showing, leading the way for what was to come. Grade: A-
The London Muddy Waters Sessions (1972)
The mighty Muddy Waters was the next to get the UK treatment and this was another well-done effort. Already a pattern was established. There was the illustrated cover, though this one looked like a half-finished Peter Max reject (though Waters wearing a bobby’s helmet was kinda funny). There was the trusty wing man brought over from the Windy City (Muddy’s harmonica player Carey Bell). Again, the roll call at the London studio proved impressive (Rory Gallagher, Ric Grech, Georgie Fame, Steve Winwood again, and former Hendrix drummer Mitch Mitchell).
Gallagher, the revered Irish blues guitarist, and Bell really stand out here, trading solos on several tracks. And while Waters is in fine fettle, the album is held back at times by the Americans’ unfamiliarity with the surroundings and the Brits reverence. In other words, good but not off-the-hook good. Like on the Howlin’ Wolf album, the material consists mostly of artist originals and Willie Dixon standards, including a new MW version of his immortal “I’m Ready,” (“I’m drinking TNT/I’m smoking dynamite/I hope some screwball starts a fight”). Grade: B
The London Chuck Berry Sessions (1972)
I think it’s safe to say that Chuck’s UK album was the most financially successful of this lot, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. That is because it included the execrable novelty song “My Ding-a-Ling,” which, believe it or not was Berry’s only #1 single in America. But at least the 45 edit was only about four minutes, the juvenile singalong goes on for eleven minutes on the album’s live second side. It is sandwiched between this record’s highlights. Helped along by two future members of the Average White Band, he treats the Lancaster festival crowd to a frisky rave-up on “Reeling and Rocking” and then sends them into a frenzy with “Johnny B. Goode” (probably because they are secretly relieved that “Ding-a-Ling” is finally over). Chaos ensues at the end when the crowd belligerently demand an encore while a flustered MC begs the crowd to leave so they can make way for a show by “The Pink Floyd.”
The studio side has little of value, despite the presence of Kenney Jones and Ian McLagan from the Faces. Chuck sounds uninspired and the only real bright spot is “I Love You” which shows a more contemporary spin on his trademark sound. Grade: C
The London Bo Diddley Sessions (1973)
The pioneering rock ‘n’ roller born Ellis McDaniel was not one to rest on his laurels. Bo had spent the late 60s and early 70s updating his sound to fit in with the more contemporary funk style. It never really caught on and he was still making most of his income on the oldies circuit where his patented hambone “Bo Diddley beat” was ever popular. His London sojourn was bound to be a colorful affair and the old pro didn’t disappoint, even if it did nothing to help his flagging record sales.
There’s a great funk workout (“Get Out of My Life),” a couple of cheeky numbers written by his former Chess label mate Sam Dees (“Husband-in-Law” and “Sneakers on a Rooster”) featuring singer and female foil Cookie Vee, and a good version of his “Bo Diddley” signature song. There is less overt star power here, but Diddley is well served by a tight and sympathetic supporting cast centered around Spencer Davis Group alumni Eddie Hardin on organ and guitarist Ray Fenwick, while ELO founder Roy Wood contributes some supple bass work. Bo’s stature, if not his commercial standing, continued into the next rock generation and by 1979 he was knocking ‘em dead as a supporting act on the Clash’s first American tour. Grade: B+
B.B. King in London (1971)
King recorded this LP at London’s famed Olympic Studios in June of 1971 and it was released in November of that year, just prior to a tour of England. It’s a decent outing by the Blues Boy, though not much here that you haven’t heard before from him. He’s supported by a staunch roster of classic-rock supporting players and regulars from the British blues club/festival circuit. Drumming is by the Jims (Gordon and Keltner), the bass work is supplied by the ever-reliable (and ever-available Klaus Voorman), and the second guitar spot (backing up King and his famous Gibson ES-355 named Lucille) rotates between Fleetwood Mac founder Peter Green, John Uribe and Dr. John.
There are a couple of changes of pace which help a lot. The instrumental “Alexis’ Blues” has both Mr. Korner and BB on acoustic guitar while Steve Marriott blows some mean harp. Guest keyboardist Gary Wright gets to do his piano shuffle with King adding some of his piquant picking on this platter (sorry). He also does some fine singing and soloing on his own “Ghetto Woman,” the best of the straight blues number. The tasty string arrangement shows that a lot of care went into the making of the, even if the results are less than revelatory. Grade: B-
Jerry Lee Lewis: The Session…Recorded in London (1973)
As mentioned before, some of these London recordings are held in check by the double dynamic of the headliner’s unfamiliar surroundings and the kid-glove tendencies of the admiring supporting players. In one sense, this was also the case when Jerry Lee Lewis made his way across the pond in 1973. Although only in his late thirties, Jerry Lee was on the cusp of his elder statesman years and initially felt ill-at-ease during the sessions. He had rarely recorded outside of Memphis or Nashville and here he was surrounded by long-haired whipper snappers.
But this was still the same Lewis who was the incorrigible wild man of rock ‘n’ roll and he let it loose with a sprawling, freewheeling, braggadocious double album that yielded his last hit song on the pop charts (“Drinking Wine Spo-Dee-O-Dee”) and cemented his status as an early rock ‘n’ roll icon. The album kicks off with “Drinking Wine,” setting the stage for what’s to come. It’s a great ol’ roadhouse boogie with Jerry leading the charge, singing enthusiastically of hedonistic pursuits and pounding away at his piano in that familiar staccato style. Alvin Lee of Ten Years After, the first of many hotshot guitarists to heed the star’s command to “Pick it, son,” gives some 70s firepower to a 50s-style solo. These “sons” are generally only 5-10 younger than “The Killer” but none of them would dare complain. His offspring include and impressive collection of guitarists (Rory Gallagher, Albert Lee, Peter Frampton, Delaney Bramlett and future Foreigner Mick Jones) and keyboardists (Gary Wright, Tony Ashton and Procol Harum’s Matthew Fisher) and Brian Parrish (then vocalist with Badger) on harmonica. Several of Lewis’ usual band also appear.
When these disparate elements come together the record can be great fun, with the accompanists’ amped-up backing giving Lewis a solid platform to hit his attitudinal sweet spot halfway between blasé and berserk. It’s a rush to hear Gallagher and Frampton trading solos as the man bulls his way thru “Johnny B. Goode” and to have pro’s pro Albert Lee move the crew full-steam-ahead on “Sea Cruise” as Captain Killer runs thru his paces of piano razzle-dazzle, esp. in those sweeping glissandos that flash by like Zorro’s sword. Country and blues numbers are also present as are a couple of more contemporary songs (CCR’s “Bad Moon Rising” and Gordon Lightfoot’s “Early Morning Rain”).
It comes all together for the concluding “Rock & Roll Medley” as the Killer whiplashes thru four Little Richard classics before climaxing with his immortal “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On.” Jerry Lee whoops it up like it’s 1957 and attacks his piano keys with karate-chop comping while Alvin Lee flies off into Woodstock guitar-hero land. It’s a satisfying ending to an entertaining, loosey-goosey record and will be a fun time no matter which of the four sides you drop the needle on. Grade: B+
—Rick Ouellette