Big Bill Broonzy
The Bill Broonzy Story

To talk about the music of William Lee Conley Broonzy, better known as Big Bill Broonzy, I've decided to start from the end. It's true that he began creating the milestones of blues practically from his recording debut at the end of the '20s, but this last album of his, "The Big Bill Broonzy Story", recorded for Verve (the edition was released in a 5-LP box set), is an exhaustive showcase of Bill's solo technical and interpretative capabilities. He was not only a prominent and central figure of Chicago blues but was also fundamental for being the musician who bridged rural blues and urban blues, uniquely blending folk, spiritual, work songs, and ragtime. However, the interest and charm of this album do not end "just" here. This is also a record-document of significant historical importance, interspersing 35 songs with Broonzy's effective and precious stories, narrated while accompanying himself with small guitar arpeggios. Moreover, he demonstrates being a talented orator, even though he was illiterate. The testimonies gathered here through questions from musicologist Bill Randle (also the producer of this project) present an incredibly interesting historical fresco on blues and the life of this unparalleled musician.
For the album, Randle wanted many of Bill's classics, but in the end, he gave in to the bluesman's requests and let him have carte blanche (and I add: fortunately), so Broonzy decided to record songs from his repertoire that he preferred or felt most connected to. Then he interpreted pieces by other musicians dear to him and some traditional blues to recall his youth, and this, in my opinion, is because Broonzy wanted to outline in these recordings a completely personal path without being influenced by others or the public.
Let's begin. We're in Chicago in a recording studio. It's Friday, July 12, 1957, and it's midnight. Broonzy, in semi-darkness, sits in front of a microphone and holds his acoustic guitar, to which he has practically always been faithful, except for a few recordings with the electric guitar in the '40s, and the use of the violin on other occasions.
The album opens with the traditional "Key To The Highway", immortalized precisely in the 1941 reinterpretation by Big Bill himself, who at the time was accompanied by Washboard Sam on the washboard, Jazz Gillum on harmonica, and Ransom Knowling on bass. In this version with voice and guitar (it's not the first solo variant), it is tackled with profound intensity. It makes us realize that his voice is still harmonious and powerful, always rich in soulful nuances, and proves that he hasn't lost the sparkle of youth. His guitar still has that clean yet determined touch and the brilliant sound with which he has always distinguished himself. Another Broonzy classic is the pained "Southbound Train", where his personal country blues is expressed at a very high level.
Of the traditional "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" with spiritual overtones, he had recorded a version the year before, but this one is much richer in nuances and proves to be decidedly better.
After a series of narratives and more intimate songs, we reach the playful "Goin' Down The Road Feelin' Bad" with its light and carefree air, recorded here for the first time. But the subsequent unreleased track, namely "Makin' My Getaway", brings us back to the more melancholic atmospheres that persistently run through the entire album.
After a brief story, the second CD, which offers less space to the more intimate mood of the first, opens with two more lively unreleased tracks, namely "This Train" and "Hush Hush", but then comes a version of "Backwater Blues" by Bessie Smith that leaves one speechless for its interpretative force, and the cover of "Worried Life Blues", a classic by Big Maceo, is also splendid. Another enchanting piece is "Kansas City Blues", among other covers, my favorites are "In The Evenin'", "The Glory Of Love", and "Louise Blues".
Other masterful interpretations I highlight are "Just A Dream", first recorded with the Don Byas Quartet in 1954, and the traditional "Frankie And Johnny", but every song on this album is indispensable, as it is part of a true life journey, which, with the anecdotes narrated, form a decidedly fascinating narrative continuum.
The album closes with the long and heart-wrenching love song "Hollerin' The Blues".
About a year later, on August 15, 1958, the great Bill died of cancer, and with the recording of this album, which would only be released in '61, he left a true sonic testament of his life but above all of his personal way of understanding the blues.