The historical details surrounding the recording session that became
Buddy & the Juniors are almost as entertaining -- and oddly satisfying -- as the music itself. Released on Blue Thumb in 1970 on multi-colored wax, this session, was it not for a very real economic necessity due to
Buddy Guy's feud with Vanguard Records, would never have happened. It appears that Vanguard wouldn't pick up the tab for
Guy to fly to New York to mix an album he'd cut with
Junior Mance and
Gary Bartz -- also produced by Cuscuna. Being an ever-enterprising genius, Cuscuna pitched the idea for a recording between
Guy,
Mance, and
Junior Wells to Blue Thumb label boss Bob Krasnow, who jumped at the chance. The all-acoustic
Buddy & the Juniors was recorded on December 18 of 1969, and on December 19, they mixed this album and the Vanguard date! While an acoustic pairing between
Guy and
Wells is a natural one, adding jazz pianist
Mance -- a Chicago native whose early influences were the boogie-woogie recordings of
Meade "Lux" Lewis and
Albert Ammons -- to the mix was risky in terms of interpersonal dynamics, but in retrospect, proved a brilliant idea. The proceedings are informal and raw with plenty of fireworks. The first two tracks -- "Talkin' 'Bout Women Obviously" and "Riffin' (aka A Motif Is Just a Riff)" -- were the last two recorded. They are blazing, hairy, on-the-spot improvisational duets between
Wells and
Guy: the former offers lyrics in a back-and-forth extemporaneous style; the latter develops in intensity as it goes on. The playing by
Guy and
Wells is inspirational. "Buddy's Blues," the first interplay of the trio, has
Mance digging deeply into the
Otis Spann tradition, just rolling inside it, accenting lines, punching chords, and offering beautiful tags to
Wells' harmonica lines.
Wells' vocal on "(I'm Your) Hoochie Coochie Man" meets
Guy's six-string head-on, with
Mance comping and popping a melodic fill underneath each sung phrase. He introduces "Five Long Years" as a piano blues that gets countered in exponential grit by
Guy's vocal and
Wells' punchy harp; he shuffles, fills, trills, and blows straight at the keyboard, creating a forceful gale of dialogue. On the slippery boogie-woogie set closer,
Wells' "Ain't No Need," the listener grasps the deep communication of this trio. Given how earthy, informal, and joyful this acoustic session is, it conveys everything right about Chicago blues. ~ Thom Jurek