Broken chairs

Wish I Was In Heaven Sitting Down - R.L. Burnside (2000)

When R.L. Burnside passed away in 2005, the world lost one of the last true bluesmen. His blues is authentic, his moan well-earned, grinding a life of sharecropping, prison and the grisly murders of close family members.

He recorded very little until the 1990s, at which time he was already in his late sixties. His willingness to be both true to the North Mississippi Hill country blues tradition as mentored by Mississippi Fred McDowell, as well as to being an innovator led to as much acclaim as he would receive in his lifetime.

Fat Possum Records wisely signed him up and let him run ragged in the explosive twilight of his life. Burnside set down some truly masterful albums for this label, both acoustic and electric, whether backed only by his guitar, or in collaboration with the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion.

He caught the attention of a modern audience with innovation not usually associated with a conventional form, liberally embellishing his tracks with scratching and sampling. Purists may tremble, but the looplike blues structure actually lends itself quite well to such sonic accoutrements. Make no mistake anyway, when Burnside sits down to groan and wail old school, he delivers with a veracity attainable only under the weight of hard years.

Wish I Was In Heaven Sitting Down, then, is a nice balance with both sides of a 73-year old Burnside on proficient display. While it certainly lacks the acoustic thoroughness of Too Bad Jim (1992), it doesn't rock as hard as, say, Mr. Wizard (1997), either. Nor does it rely on studio production as exhaustively as Come On In (1998). Wish finds harmony in its broad scope, all the while adding new layers to the Burnside style.

We begin with the molasses moan of "Hard Time Killing Floor", (94/100), as good and gritty an indication of the singer's cred as any. Ostensibly a Skip James cover, Burnside adds the tragic details of his own bio, enlightening his audience as to why his life is always "rougher than ever before". "Two brothers and my father got killed in Chicago," he says matter-of-factly, "that's why I don't like living there." Yeah. No kidding. His vocals plead with the earnest intensity of a fevered warning.

Burnside's slow-burn vocals also highlight "Got Messed Up", (95), (http://www.mediafire.com/?fibv3tg67tk0rat). There is palpable despair in this track, evoked at least in part by its other major player, Johnny Dyer's wicked harmonica. A steady and soothing bassline offsets that with a determined resiliency. The hypnotic atmosphere Burnside creates naturally in his blues is augmented by the production on this track, as well as the entire album. Here we get some wah-tipped guitar, vinyl static and some strange synth thrown in on the bridge.

For an artist with as raucous a reputation as Burnside, this album is surprisingly subdued in its moodiness. "Miss Maybelle", (72), though, feels like the traditional juke joint romp that it is, aside from the spastic scratching, of course. It is followed by the title track, (93), in which Burnside hits his pure roots. The song is unadorned and, as a result, is the most commanding on the album. The woe in this gospel standard is unstated, but the desire for redemption is unmitigated and urgent.

In contrast to the somewhat sombre tone thus far, Burnside's sense of humour is prominently displayed on the next two tracks. Firstly, the rush of the world is mocked in "Too Many Ups", (77), over a bouncy groove with slide guitar, wah, subtle keyboard and even a nice little piano outro. "Nothin' Man", (76), is equally danceable, its satirical bite aimed at the maudlin self-pity that blues degenerates into in its extreme. "I never had a chance ... I wish my mama would have loved me," he deadpans, before Lynwood Slim takes over with some suitably smoking harmonica work.

"See What My Buddy Done", (88), is treated with the respect due a rugged blues warhorse. The guitars are bold and hard, the piano lively and complimentary. The producers prudently leave this one alone. "My Eyes Keep Me In Trouble," (75), amps up the country in country blues. The Hap Walker song, recorded by blues soldiers from Muddy Waters (1955), Big Walter Horton with Carey Bell (1973) to David Wilcox (1983), features a star turn for John Porter's mandolin.

Next, Burnside and crew lay down an unexpected R&B vibe on a cover of his own "Bad Luck City", (92), (http://www.mediafire.com/?u9ce3m9uebn299h). This track is uncharacteristically smooth but builds off the drone rhythms that Burnside is indeed known for. I have never, before or since, heard him sing like he does on the chorus. Affecting his plea with such ardent fervour emphasizes his desperation, yet, to his credit, the man never loses his cool.

He also covers "Chain Of Fools", (73), the Don Covay song made famous by Aretha Franklin on Lady Soul (1968). The vocals are good and gruff, there's more nice harmonica and the guitars are as screechy rocking as they get on Wish. This track suffers a little from overproduction, however, especially at a very distracting 2:46.

Finally, to close, we are treated to "R.L.'s Story", (93), an extrapolation on the events referred to in the album's opening track. We learn that in addition to his father and brothers being brutally murdered after moving to Chicago, the same fate befell two of his uncles as well. Horrifically, all these tragedies occured in the space of one year -- both of his brothers on the same day -- and none of the killers were ever caught. The haunting tale is spun over a sinister background of inconsolable guitar and nightmarish sound effects as thick as a delta flood.

The CD also includes three bonus tracks by labelmates, which feels kind of odd coming after such a piercing closing number as that. Robert Belfour presents "Black Mattie" from What's Wrong With You (2000), Paul Jones "Pucker Up Buttercup", the title track from a 1999 album, and Kenny Brown "Laugh To Keep From Crying", which was rechristened "You Don't Know My Mind" by the time Stingray was released in 2003.

Perhaps we don't get as much of Burnside's signature wild and swinging blues here, but what it lacks in clamour, it makes up for in mood. Anyone can be loud, only a master can be this good.

Wish I Was In Heaven Sitting Down (album): 84/100.