I have a problem with Corey Harris.
You see, Harris is signed to a blues label, yet he eschews being
called a blues artist, and the influences in his music are often
anything but the blues. His latest release,
Greens From The Garden, is further evidence of this, and one
can’t help but think that calling Harris strictly a bluesman would
be like asking Motorhead to perform Beethoven’s Sixth.
Sound like I’m slamming Harris? Actually, I’m not; Harris, with
this album, releases one of the more quirky and curious albums of
the year, though I question whether or not the album would have
been tighter without numerous asides peppered throughout. More on
that in a minute.
Harris stays true to his love of juju music, thanks to a stint
in Cameroon in 1991. While this might not be the typical angle one
would expect from an artist on a blues label, it is a natural fit
for Harris. Tracks like “Eh La Bas” (hmm, second album I’ve heard
this song on in weeks, though Harris’s sounds much closer to the
bone) and “Pas Parlez” shimmer with excitement; you can hear the
exuberance that Harris and his bandmates have in these
performances. (Note to whoever’s in charge of these things at
Alligator: putting the artist credits behind the CD tray makes them
much harder to read.)
But while Harris might not be strictly a blues musician, its
roots can still be clearly heard in tracks like “Basehead,” “Sweet
Black Angel,” “Nola Rag” and “Lynch Blues”. With a wide variety of
musicians (far too many to list here, and to try to list just a few
wouldn’t do the whole crew justice), Harris is able to to create a
style of the blues that is both modern and – dare I say it? – fun
to listen to. Even for someone like myself who loves the blues,
Greens From The Garden is a disc that is a refreshing
eye-opener, though it does take some time to get used to.
For all of this, Harris makes only two mistakes. First is a
reggae-tinged version of “Just A Closer Walk With Thee,” a song
that would have been better had it been shorter – but I don’t see
this as a major mistake. The other is that Harris tries to follow
through with the theme of the album’s title by putting in snippets
about greens featuring family members (?), friends and
acquaintances of Harris. Problem is that you get hit with these far
too often; I don’t think more than three songs elapse before –
wham! – another interlude. One word: Overkill.
Still,
Greens From The Garden makes for a tasty, but unusual, dish
to lay in front of a blues fan that you might know. And while
Harris does succeed in the overall picture, be warned that this
plate is an acquired taste.
