Straight off the Mississippi share cropping life into the studio, Big Bill Broonzy was the real deal architect of early blues. From the '20s to the late '50s Broonzy recorded volumes of blues, hokum, folk and country. Some of that early output sounds suspiciously close to what later became known as rock & roll.

Popular in his day, Broonzy filled in for the recently deceased Robert Johnson at John Hammond's legendary Spirituals To Swing series of Carnegie Hall concerts. He wrote an autobiography, the only original blues pioneer to do so. He also spearheaded the migration to, and growth of, Chicago's burgeoning blues scene. Muddy Waters respected him so much he recorded an album of Broonzy covers.

Today, he is virtually forgotten, however, even receiving only cursory mention in most blues history books.

Partly this is because he died in 1958, too soon to capitalize on the '60s blues revivals. Mainly it's because the very electric blues sound Broonzy helped usher in made his acoustic, country blues style passé. Though he dabbled in electric combos, Broonzy largely remained acoustic and solo throughout.

The loss is that Broonzy was a blues master equal anyone in the game and an American musical treasure on par with Sinatra, Armstrong, Presley or any other still widely known and regarded musical giant.

This 1951 German concert recording - Broonzy also led the blues man-trekking-to-Europe phenomenon, which in turn heavily influenced the '60s British Invasion bands - exists because of Broonzy's loss of stateside opportunity. Things once got so bad he took janitorial work at an Iowa college. And, while it would be wonderful to see such a fate befall most of today's plastic pop stars, it's truly a sad fate for one so genuinely talented. American blues hounds may have tossed acoustic for electric sounds, but Europeans went crazy for both.

No drabness here, Broonzy exudes passion and joy, his warm, avuncular personality seeps through at every turn. Giggling from nerves and delight, Broonzy says, "thank you," about 100 times during the show.

And what a beautiful, rich, gleeful show it is. "John Henry's" intricate picking proves that guitar heroes didn't originate with rock & rolls arrival. Apart minimal guitar accompaniment, "In The Evening" is practically a cappella and feels like Broonzy is serenading in the room ten feet away.

"I Feel So Good," with its soaring vocal and boogie-woogie piano courtesy Graeme Bell is so bouncy happy that I dare anyone to sit still through it.

Broonzy evens parodies blues mythos (this decades before the Wayans brother's In Living Color blues man skits) while introducing "Trouble In Mind" by saying, "If you ever get so blue you wanna kill yourself, this is your song."

The Graeme Bell Band receives too much disc space. They play trad/Dixieland jazz. That, for me, is like opera, easy to appreciate in small doses, but a little goes a long way.

Fortunately, Jasmine Records plans to release a double CD of 1952 British Broonzy concerts soon.

Whether this CD, or a best-of set, every blues fan - hell, any music fan - needs to discover Big Bill Broonzy ASAP. It will rank with hearing Muddy Waters or Elmore James for the first time.
- Matthew Smith

September 2002 Southwest Blues