Founded by The Rapture and James Friedman, the mighty Throne of Blood records cannot be messed with. They've blogged for us in the past, but we've now decided they're so unbelievably awesome they need their own profile. Everyone bid a warm welcome to James Friedman and his crew of esteemed bloggers! In this post, Throne of Blood signee Call Super riffs passionately on his love of blues music, which makes for a very interesting read indeed.
Around the corner from where I used to live in Camden, north London, was a tiny record called Sounds that Swing. They sold Blues and Bluegrass, Psyche, Rockabilly, Garage Punk and Jazz. American music. I would go there because the music always walked that line between things that make you dance and lose yourself in your emotions at the same time. That, along with a sense of ambition, are the things that I ask of music. It was in Sounds that Swing that I discovered The Big Three Trio.
The Big Three Trio were made up of the well known Willie Dixon on bass, alongside Baby Doo Caston (piano) and Ollie Crawford (guitar). They cut their teeth in the Juke joints of Chicago's Southside, but mixed vocals in harmony to their rough Delta Blues so that they could get gigs in White clubs all over the country. I bought the beautiful Dr. Horse collection, which included their take on Signifying Monkey (a song I first heard sung by Smokey Joe] for one of his albums on Sun.) These songs were songs that sounded like they were recorded late, in a bar around people that needed to dance, but were a little too far gone. That is pretty much what I have always sought to convey in the music I make. A sense that something here is not quite right, but hell I like it, and damn, I also feel pretty on edge with the intensity of it all.
The Big Three Trio were a huge influence on later Rockers such as Chuck Berry, but I found all those later records less interesting, they weren't so exploratory as the electronic and dance records that made up the bulk of my love. They lacked those qualities I was so happy with, they were sharp and slick and cut to the quick in a way that lacked the wayward humanity I needed to drown myself in. Sadly Sounds that Swing has gone now: London itself is too slick to sustain an oddball such as that.