Review #483: The Anthology: 1947–1972, Muddy Waters
#483: The Anthology: 1947–1972, Muddy Waters
I promise not to bitch about this anthology. Besides, I’m big on the blues right now.
Muddy Waters is widely recognized as the father of the Chicago blues, though he was born in Mississippi. Named “Muddy” by his grandmother, since he loved to mess around in a nearby creek, Waters started out with an acoustic guitar in the Delta. (See “My Home Is In the Delta.”) When he moved to Chicago, he picked up an electric, since, as he said, “When I went into the clubs, the first thing I wanted was an amplifier. Couldn’t nobody hear you with an acoustic.” He later linked up with bassist and songwriter Willie Dixon, who wrote some of his biggest hits. In particular, his hit “Hoochie Coochie Man,” which is full of hoodoo references and a braggadacious attitude — and was later adapted into Bo Diddley’s “I’m a Man.” (My favorite story was how Dixon wrote “I’m Ready” after hearing Waters razzing his harmonica player.) In fact, Dixon’s songwriting relationship with Howlin’ Wolf, a fellow Chicago bluesman, caused a legendary rivalry between the two. Wolf even suspected that Dixon was giving Waters the higher quality songs.
Waters tackled several blues standards, and his versions would more often than not become the new standard. “Rollin’ and Tumblin’” was written by Hambone Willie Newbern, and was also covered by Robert Johnson, but when Cream eventually covered it, they used Waters’ version as their touchstone. Also, fun fact: his version of Red Foster’s “Got My Mojo Working,” first performed by Ann Cole, was at the heart of a number of copyright issues. See also his takes on Big Joe Williams’ “Baby Please Don’t Go,” Son House’s “Walkin’ Blues,” T-Bone Walker’s “My Eyes (Keep Me In Trouble),” Sleepy John Estes’ “Trouble No More,” and several others.
Waters was a guitarist and a harmonica player, but also a terrifyingly profound vocalist. On “I Can’t Be Satisfied,” he works over the dark lyrics like a rubber band. And the evil-sounding laughter on “Close to You” made it feel like he was hitting on me personally. He’s also able to make it sound like he’s having a conversation with his other instrumentalists — see “Standin’ Around Cryin’” and “She Moves Me.” And even though most all of these tracks are decidedly in twelve-bar blues land, his guitar playing is versatile — it’s practically gutter punk on “Don’t Go No Farther.”
He ranges from slower, guitar-bass duets (“Standin’ Here Tremblin’,” “You Gonna Need My Help”) to full band ensembles (“Who’s Gonna Be Your Sweet Man When I’m Gone?”). Every so often, he takes the traditional twelve-bar blues and twists it just a little bit, which must have been revelatory back in the Fifties: see the offbeat “I Want to Be Loved,” “Forty Days and Forty Nights,” and the rollicking end of “Still a Fool.” I’m also partial to “All Aboard (Fathers & Sons)” where he does a successful impersonation of a train.
Waters’ legacy is massive — both the Rolling Stones and my arch nemesis Rolling Stone Magazine named themselves after his legendary song “Rollin’ Stone.” Led Zeppelin famously covered his “You Shook Me.” Hell, even Etta James covers “I Just Want to Make Love to You.” Waters’ even acknowledged his outsized influence in his music, responding to Bo Diddley’s “I’m a Man” with the snarky, politically charged “Mannish Boy.” Several men who played in his band went on to achieve critical success in their own right, such as Little Walter. There’s even a crater on Mercury named after him. If that isn’t success, I don’t know what is.
Fun Fact: His song “Little Geneva” was named after his wife! (Not the Geneva Conventions.)
Least Favorite Songs: “She’s Nineteen Years Old” and “Good Morning Little School Girl,” for obvious reasons.
