Blind Willie McTell – Atlanta Strut
Most people familiar with the name Blind Willie McTell will probably have learnt it from the Dylan song, named after Willie, that contains the refrain: “no-one can sing the blues like Blind Willie McTell”. Anyone moving from the Dylan song to some of Willie’s recordings might be surprised: Dylan’s song is sombre, while Willie’s own recordings often exude a sprightly charm. Dylan’s voice sounds like sandpaper, while Willie’s voice is both crisp and smooth, like a Crunchie McFlurry.
Willie was born around 1901 in the state of Georgia, and is usually listed as a Piedmont blues player (Piedmont being “a plateau region located in the eastern United States... stretching from New Jersey in the north to central Alabama in the south”, if I remember rightly). The Piedmont blues are distinguished by a chirpy ragtime-like rhythm, and this rhythm becomes infectiously toe-tapping in Willie’s hands. Between 1927 and 1956 Willie recorded 149 songs for various record labels. The 20 tracks collected on this ‘Complete Blues Series’ compilation (which sell cheap, and cover various artists) stretch from 1927 to 1935, and contain some of the most famous recordings.
Perhaps Willie’s most famous song is ‘Statesboro Blues’, which expresses his disgust at being mis-treated by his woman, and the subsequent desire to put on some “travellin’ shoes”. The voice is achingly mournful and hurt, but there is something playful about the guitar-picking, rhythm and lyrics that belie this blues pain. Dylan’s song to McTell has an epic sadness, but in ‘Statesboro Blues’ McTell sounds like an abandoned child who wants some sympathy-loving from his “doggone queen”; like most of McTell’s blues recordings, it walks a tightrope between genuine, soul-dragging sadness and cheeky melancholy. An ironic line in ‘Death Cell Blues’ phrases this differently: “They got me ‘cused for forging [pause] and I can’t even write my name”. It would sound more like a joke if McTell didn’t sound so upset about it.
Half of the tracks on the compilation are blues songs, and all of these blues display a typical relationship between vocals and music. That is, most of the blues songs sound like a duet (or a conversation) between guitar and voice. McTell was one of the first guitarists to use the twelve-string acoustic and this, along with his deft, finger-picking style and bouncy rhythms, give the music a depth and liveliness that is equal to McTell’s charismatic voice. The other ten tracks on the compilation are a miscellaneous bunch, but are mostly up-tempo-good-time or religious songs. ‘Georgie Rag’ and ‘Atlanta Strut’ show McTell at his most blithely entertaining, and his guitar-playing at its most playful and uncomplicatedly cheerful, while ‘God Don’t Like It’ and ‘I Got Religion And I’m So Glad’ are fascinating duets between McTell and his wife, Kate. Throughout the compilation
McTell is a charming host, and by the end of it he feels like a friend. Dylan might have chosen his tribute to McTell to be so epic-sounding because McTell’s songs (his voice, his guitar-playing, and his lyrics) seem to be history. And yet, you’ll find yourself wandering round Sainsbury’s humming “Got three women / Yellow, brown and black” before the history behind the catchiness dawns.
Written by Stuart Mason