Hooker turns old tricks into modern treats

By DAVID SCHNEIDERMAN
Collegian Arts Writer

In a world where most blues perception comes from pop Eric Clapton tunes, the real thing is like a modern myth. People are aware of the old masters as if the blues renaissance is long past, and the names of the greats are little more than vague memories.

Enter John Lee Hooker, the deepest of the deep bluesmen. His signature vamping and droning have influenced the genre for more than four decades. His "children" have grown to the point where they have made Hooker a grandfather. Bonnie Raitt, Keith Richards, Canned Heat and Los Lobos are but a few of the many who have cut their teeth on the Hooker sound.

Hooker's Chill Out will not disappoint any of his kin, or any other blues fan either. The new release is potent, vital and rich in the sonic textures that Hooker has taken from the 12-bar formula and expanded into a career of loss and yearning.

The deep-throated crooning on "Deep Blue Sea" and "Tupelo" showcase the simplicity of the craft, as Hooker strips away the "personnel," (as the liner notes call it) and plays the blues from the heart -- and all alone.

In "Tupelo," a low humming sound permeates the few chords before the lyrics. "The people of Tupelo/Begin to get worried/Lord have mercy." The words are almost a whisper, highlighted by the humming -- a quiet murmur that is the essence of the blues.

Van Morrison adds the rhythm and blues vox, that made him a sensation 30 years ago, to the Hooker composition "Serves Me Right to Suffer/Syndicator."

Morrison's upbeat rhythm compliments the Mississippi blues of Hooker's own ancient voice as the duo pines away about the effects of a life of women.

"Doctor put you on/Milk, Cream and Alcohol/Your nerves are so bad/Just can't sleep at night." And to drive the tune home, Hooker repeats the mantra "My nerves, my nerves are gone," as a man who knows what he sings.

The first track "Chill Out (Things Gonna Change)," opens the album and Hooker's soul with help from visionary guitarist Carlos Santana. The Latin flavor of Santana's own sonic malaise melds perfectly with a man who had the blues before Santana was even born.

"Won't be long/Things gonna change/So lonely," comes the lyric in front of the Latin guitar work. If this is the direction of Hooker's future, things should never change.

Aged to the point where people forget how old he is, Hooker has a firm grasp on the blues, as well as his own spread of influence.

So next time Eric Clapton's "Motherless Child" does not sound quite believable enough, Chill Out with the real thing.