Wednesday, December 2, 2009

The Black Gladiator - Bo Diddley


One has to wonder what was going through Bo Diddley's head in the late 60's, when he took it upon himself to reinvent the "Bo Diddley beat" for an audience of white hippies. Bo wasn't the only one, however; Muddy Waters went "psychedelic" for his Electric Mud and After The Rain albums, and Howlin' Wolf's This Is Howlin' Wolf's New Album ("He doesn't like it. He didn't like his electric guitar at first either.") sounded like a faceless white acid rock group trying to groom the blues' biggest personality for a crowd of fairweather freaks. These albums, along with Bo's The Black Gladiator, are almost universally regarded as heinous travesties, and considered by many critics to be among the worst albums ever made. Here is where I have to step in and ask you whether you really give two shits about a critic's opinion anyway, because fuck, man, these albums are 100% killer, and Bo's is the best of the bunch. I suppose The Black Gladiator does sound like shit if you approach it from a blues purist's standpoint, which I most certainly don't. Think of this as the marvelous missing link between funky soul and garage rock: it ain't quite James Brown, Stax-Volt, The Rolling Stones, or Quicksilver Messenger Service (although it sounds a little bit like all of those), and it sho' ain't vintage Ellas Otha Bates (there's barely an echo of "Who Do You Love" to be heard here). But it jives, shucks, grooves, and ultimately rocks much harder than most of the "heavy" blues bands that had started popping up around the time the album was recorded. Nothing here deserves to be spoken about with the same reverence as "I'm a Man" or "Mona", but "Black Soul" and "Funky Fly" vamp on into funky eternity, "I Don't Like You" crackles and burns like a deranged, acid-fried version of Lowell Fulson's "Tramp", and "You, Bo Diddley" successfully updates the timeless "shave and a haircut, two bits" pattern that made Bo's career for the peace/love/dope generation. Hot buttered blues, indeed.

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