The Never Ending Pool

.
Crawdaddy! presents a somewhat mixed review:

Ramblin' Jack Elliott
by j. poet
April 1, 2009
A Stranger Here
(Anti-, 2009)

Ramblin' Jack Elliott is 77, and his legend looms large. Live, his charisma is palpable; even today his boyish charm and dazzling smile can turn an audience of strangers into a group of adoring fans. He doesn't write many of his own tunes, but he breathes new life into ancient folk songs, cowboy tunes, and blues classics. His long, between-song narratives-kaleidoscopic tales of his life and times may sound fantastic, but they're mostly true. His nickname, in fact, doesn't refer to his inability to stay in one place for very long, but rather to his habit of jumping from subject to subject in conversation. He was one of Woody Guthrie's last traveling companions, mentored the young Bob Dylan, and hung out with Pete Seeger, Odetta, Jesse Fuller, Allen Ginsberg, and Jack Kerouac.

Elliott's had a strong cult following on the folk circuit most of his life, but over the past 15 years, he's been getting some mainstream recognition - a Best Traditional Folk Album Grammy for South Coast in 1995 and a National Medal of Arts in 1998. Anti- Records signed Elliott in 2006 and his first album for the label, that year's I Stand Alone, introduced him to generations of listeners that weren't born when he started ramblin'. Elliott has never made a bad album, but there are a few hit-or-miss titles in his back catalog, and A Stranger Here is one of them.

Elliott is at his best without any fancy trimmings, which may be why he's seldom recorded with a band. He's a folksinger, and conveys the simple beauty of traditional songs with his energetic picking and a voice that can whoop and holler, plead and moan, sooth and excite. He's at his best all alone with his guitar and harmonica, rambling at will through the estimated 3,000 songs in his repertoire. He usually plays a couple of country blues numbers at each show or on each record, but for A Stranger Here, producer Joe Henry suggested an entire album of blues, and although Henry picked some great players to back Elliott up - David Hidalgo on guitar and accordion, Van Dyke Parks on piano and vibes, and Jay Bellerose on drums - some of the tunes have an awkward feel. Blind Lemon Jefferson's "Rising High Water Blues" limps along on a plodding beat with little swing. "Death Don't Have No Mercy," made popular by the Rev. Gary Davis, is taken at a funereal pace; Elliott sounds uncomfortable and the band superfluous. He starts to hit his stride on Blind Willie Johnson's "Soul of a Man," a religious blues song about mortality and salvation with a barebones arrangement: Just slide guitar, percussion, and a bit of dark, ambient electronica. Mississippi John Hurt's "Richland Women Blues" gives us the Elliott we're more familiar with. It's also the first stripped-down track, just Dobro and piano, and Elliott turning in a loose, playful, sexy vocal. You can feel him smiling as he sings.

"Grinnin' in Your Face," a Son House tune, is musically similar to "Death Don't Have No Mercy," but works better. Elliott sounds defeated and angry and the minimal backing - bass and percussion - uits the tune. Tampa Red's "The New Stranger Blues" has a ragtime feel with some bright mandolin work from Greg Leisz, Parks' piano accents, and a mischievous vocal from Elliott. For the Furry Lewis ode to drink and excess, "Falling Down Blues," Elliott uses a slurred, drunken tone, and plays some nice country blues guitar. The ambient percussion and keyboard is an interesting production choice, but doesn't add anything to the track. The album closes with two of the strongest tracks, Leroy Carr's "How Long Blues" with Hidalgo's conjunto accordion, slashing slide guitar, a down and dirty rhythm section, and Elliott's weary vocal. "Please Remember Me," a proto-R&B tune from the pen of pianist Walter Davis, sounds like a lament being played at closing time in a dingy bar on the corner of a dead-end street. Elliott turns in another boozy vocal full of anguish and self-pity.

Henry's idea of a program of blues from the Great Depression was in production before the awareness of our current economic situation became front-page news. While the synchronicity of events makes for a convenient hook to hang a review on, the blues is a timeless state and doesn't need to be modernized to sound current. The same is true of Elliott. His weathered, soulful voice and traditional picking style define folk music at its purest and best. The continuing popularity of the blues, folk, and other traditional forms prove how vital they are. People who think they need updating are missing the whole point.

http://crawdaddy.wolfgangsvault.com/Article.aspx?id=12904